Chromosome 6. Chapter 7, 8, 9
CHAPTER 7
———
MARCH 5, 1997
7:25 A.M.
NEW YORK CITY
THE combination of cheap red wine and little sleep slowed Jack’s pace on
his morning bicycle commute. His customary time of arrival in the ID
room of the medical examiner’s office was seven-fifteen. But as he got
off the elevator on the first floor of the morgue en route to the ID
room, he noticed it was already seven twenty-five, and it bothered him.
It wasn’t as if he were late, it was just that Jack liked to keep to a
schedule. Discipline in relation to his work was one of the ways he’d
learned to avoid depression.
His first order of business was to pour himself a cup of coffee from the
communal pot. Even the aroma seemed to have a beneficial effect, which
Jack attributed to Pavlovian conditioning. He took his first sip. It was
a heavenly experience. Though he doubted the caffeine could work quite
so quickly, he felt like his mild hangover headache was already on the
mend.
He stepped over to Vinnie Amendola, the mortuary tech whose day shift
overlapped the night shift. He was ensconced as usual at one of the
office’s government-issued metal desks. His feet were parked on the
corner, and his face hidden behind his morning newspaper.
Jack pulled the edge of the paper down to expose Vinnie’s Italianate
features to the world. He was in his late twenties, in sorry physical
shape, but handsome. His dark, thick hair was something Jack envied.
Jack had been noticing over the previous year a decided thinning of his
gray-streaked brown hair on the crown of his head.
‘Hey, Einstein, what’s the paper say about the Franconi body incident?’
Jack asked. Jack and Vinnie worked together on a frequent basis, both
appreciating the other’s flippancy, quick wit, and black humor.
‘I don’t know,’ Vinnie said. He tried to pull his beloved paper from
Jack’s grasp. He was embroiled in the Knicks stats from the previous
night’s basketball game.
Jack’s forehead furrowed. Vinnie might not have been an academic genius,
but about current news items, he was something of a resident authority.
He read the newspapers cover to cover every day and had impressive
recall.
‘There’s nothing about it in the paper?’ Jack questioned. He was
shocked. He’d imagined the media would have had a field day with the
embarrassment of the body disappearing from the morgue. Bureaucratic
mismanagement was a favorite journalistic theme.
‘I didn’t notice it,’ Vinnie said. He yanked harder, freed the paper,
and reburied his face.
Jack shook his head. He was truly surprised and wondered how Harold
Bingham, the chief medical examiner, had managed such a media coverup.
Just as Jack was about to turn away, he caught the headlines. It said:
Mob Thumbs Nose at Authority. The subhead read: ‘Vaccarro crime family
kills one of its own then steals the body out from under the noses of
city officials.’
Jack snatched the entire paper from the surprised Vinnie’s grasp.
Vinnie’s legs fell to the floor with a thump. ‘Hey, come on!’ he
complained.
Jack folded the paper then held it so that Vinnie was forced to stare at
the front page.
‘I thought you said the story wasn’t in the paper,’ Jack said.
‘I didn’t say it wasn’t in there,’ Vinnie said. ‘I said I didn’t see
it.’
‘It’s the headlines, for crissake!’ Jack said. He pointed at them with
his coffee cup for emphasis.
Vinnie lunged out to grab his paper. Jack pulled it away from his grasp.
‘Come on!’ Vinnie whined. ‘Get your own freakin’ paper.’
‘You’ve got me curious,’ Jack said. ‘As methodical as you are, you’d
have read this front-page story on your subway ride into town. What’s
up, Vinnie?’
‘Nothing!’ Vinnie said. ‘I just went directly to the sports page.’
Jack studied Vinnie’s face for a moment. Vinnie looked away to avoid eye
contact.
‘Are you sick?’ Jack asked facetiously.
‘No!’ Vinnie snapped. ‘Just give me the paper.’
Jack slipped out the sports pages and handed them over. Then he went
over to the scheduling desk and started the article. It began on the
front page and concluded on the third. As Jack anticipated, it was