“For what?”
“I don’t know,” Lou said. “You tell me.”
“Cerino wouldn’t want to extort me or any of my employees. I’m taking care of the man. I’m helping him.”
“These organized-crime people think differently than normal people,” Lou said. “They consider themselves special and above the law: in fact above everything. If they don’t get exactly what they want, they kill you. If they do get what they want but decide they don’t like you or they owe you too much money, they kill you.”
“Well, I’m certainly giving them what they want.”
“Whatever you say, Doc. I’m just trying to explore all the angles. You’ve got one dead secretary and somebody whacked her rather brutally. And whoever did it didn’t want anyone finding out who she was anytime soon. I want to know why.”
“Well, all I can tell you is I’m quite certain Marsha’s disappearance, or death, hasn’t anything to do with Mr. Cerino. Now if you’ll kindly excuse me, I have patients to attend to. If you have any additional questions, perhaps you should contact me through my attorney.”
“Sure, Doc, sure,” Lou said. “I’ll be on my way. But a word to the wise: I’d be very careful where Paul Cerino is concerned. The Mafia may seem glamorous when you read about them or see them in the movies, but I think you’d develop a different point of view if you got a glimpse of what Mrs. Schulman looks like now. And one last piece of advice. I’d be careful about sending him a bill. Thank you for your time, Doctor.”
Lou walked out of the building, embarrassed to an extent that he had come. It had been a worthless encounter that had only annoyed him. He couldn’t stand pompous silver-spoon-fed fools like Jordan Scheffield. If he got into trouble with Paul Cerino, it was his own fault. He was so full of his own self-importance that he couldn’t see the danger.
Half an hour later Lou arrived at his office at police headquarters. For a moment he stood on the threshold, surveying the mess within. His digs were a far cry from Jordan Scheffield’s posh surroundings. The furniture was the usual gray metal, city issue with the burns from innumerable cigarettes left on the edges and with stains from spilled coffee. The floor was dried and cracked linoleum. The walls had been painted years previously in a pale green that had blistered from a water leak from the floor above. Papers and reports were stacked on every horizontal surface, since the file cabinets were full.
Lou had never thought much about his office, but today it seemed oppressively dingy. It was irrational, he knew, but he got mad at the smug doctor all over again.
Just then Harvey Lawson, another detective lieutenant on the force, interrupted Lou’s thoughts. “Hey, Lou,” Harvey called, “you know that broad you were talking about yesterday? The one from the medical examiner’s office?”
“Yeah?”
“I just heard she called Internal Affairs. Made some beef about two uniformed guys stealing from an overdose scene. What do you think of that?”
Tony and Angelo were back in Angelo’s Town Car. They were parked across the street from the Greenblatt Pavilion of Manhattan General Hospital. The Greenblatt Pavilion was the fancy part of the hospital where pampered, wealthy patients could order from special menus that included amenities such as wine, provided their doctors permitted such treats as part of their diet.
It was 2:48 in the afternoon and Tony and Angelo were exhausted. They’d hoped to sleep after their busy night, but Paul Cerino had other plans for them.
“What time did Doc Travino say we should pull this off?” Tony asked.
“Three o’clock,” Angelo said. “Supposedly that’s the time there’s most confusion in the hospital. That’s when the day shift of nurses are getting ready to leave and the evening shift is just coming on.”
“If that’s what the doc says, it’s good enough for me.”
“I don’t like it,” Angelo said. “I still think it’s too risky.” He surveyed the vicinity with wary eyes. There was a lot of activity and plenty of cops. In the ten minutes they’d been parked there, Angelo had spotted three squad cars cruising by.