“What a terrible experience for you,” Laurie sympathized. “But you have to remember that occult medical problems are always found in such cases. I imagine we’ll be seeing Mrs. O’Connor tomorrow, and I’ll be sure to let you know what it was. Sometimes knowing the pathology makes it easier to deal with the death.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Jordan said.
“I suppose my day wasn’t as bad as yours,” Laurie said. “But I’m beginning to understand how Cassandra felt when Apollo made sure that she was not to be heeded.”
Laurie told Jordan all about her overdose series and that she was sure there would be more cases if no appropriate warnings were issued. She told him how upsetting it had been that she’d been unable to convince the chief medical examiner to go public with the story. Then she told him she’d gone to the police, and even they refused to help.
“Sounds frustrating,” Jordan said. “There was one good thing about my day,” he said, changing the subject. “I did a lot of surgery, and that makes me and my accountant very happy. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been doing double my normal number of cases.”
“I’m glad,” Laurie said. She couldn’t help but notice Jordan’s propensity for turning the conversation to himself.
“I just hope it keeps up,” he said. “There are always fluctuations. I can accept that. But I’m getting spoiled at the current rate.”
Once they had finished their meal and their places were cleared, the waiter rolled a tempting dessert trolley to their table. Jordan selected a chocolate cake. Laurie chose berries. Jordan had an espresso, Laurie a decaf. As she stirred her coffee, she discreetly glanced at her watch.
“I saw that,” Jordan said. “I know it’s getting late. I also know it’s a “school night.’ I’ll get you home in a half hour if we can make the same deal we made last night. Let’s have dinner again tomorrow night.”
“Again?” Laurie asked. “Jordan, you’re sure to get sick of me.”
“Nonsense,” Jordan said. “I’m enjoying every minute. I just wish it weren’t so rushed, and tomorrow is Friday. It’s the weekend. Maybe you’ll even have some news about Mary O’Connor. Please, Laurie.”
Laurie couldn’t believe she was being asked to dinner for a third night in a row. It was certainly flattering. “All right,” she said at last. “You have yourself a date.”
“Wonderful,” Jordan said. “Have any suggestions for a restaurant?”
“I think you have a lot more experience,” Laurie said. “You pick.”
“Okay, I will. Shall we say nine o’clock again?”
Laurie nodded as she sipped her decaf. Looking into Jordan’s clear eyes, she thought of Lou’s negative description of the man. For a second Laurie was tempted to ask how the meeting with the detective lieutenant had gone, but decided against it. Some things were better left unsaid.
9
* * *
11:50 p.m., Thursday
Manhattan
“Not bad,” Tony said. He and Angelo were just leaving an all-night pizza joint on Forty-second Street near Times Square. “I was surprised. The place looked like such a dump.”
Angelo didn’t answer. His mind was already on the job that lay ahead.
When they arrived at the parking garage, Angelo nodded toward his Town Car. The garage owner, Lenny Helman, paid money to Cerino. Since Angelo usually collected it, he parked for free.
“Better not have scratched the car,” Angelo said after the attendant drove the car up to the curb. Once he was satisfied there wasn’t a mark on its highly polished surface, Angelo got in. Tony did the same. They pulled out onto Forty-second Street.
“What’s next?” Tony asked, sitting sideways so he could look directly at Angelo. The light from the glittering neon marquees of the neighborhood movie theaters played over Angelo’s gaunt face, making him look like an unraveled mummy in a museum.
“We’re going to switch to the “demand’ list,” Angelo told him.
“Great,” Tony said with enthusiasm. “I’m getting tired of the other. Where to?”
“Eighty-sixth,” Angelo said. “Near the Metropolitan Museum.”
“Good neighborhood,” Tony said. “I’ll bet there’ll be souvenirs for the taking.”
“I don’t feel good about it,” Angelo said. “Wealthy neighborhood means fancy alarms.”