“So you’re here for the autopsies?” Laurie asked.

“Yeah,” Lou said. “Maybe I can get a job here after I’m fired from the police department. I’m spending as much time here as in my office.”

“Who’s doing the cases?” Laurie asked.

“Dr. Southgate and Dr. Besserman,” Lou said. “How are they, all right?”

“They’re excellent. Both are very experienced.”

“I’d kinda hoped you’d be doing them,” Lou said. “I was beginning to think we worked well together.”

“Well, you’re in good hands with Southgate and Besserman,” she assured him.

“I’ll let you know what we find,” Lou said. He fumbled with his hat.

“Please do,” Laurie answered. All of a sudden she had that same feeling that she’d gotten on previous days. Lou seemed to become painfully self-conscious, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“Well… I’m glad I ran into you,” Lou said, avoiding Laurie’s eyes. “Well… I’ll see you. ’Bye.” Lou turned and started back toward the police liaison office.

For a second Laurie watched Lou’s lumbering gait and again was impressed by a sense of the man’s loneliness. She wondered if he had intended asking her out once again.

For a minute after Lou disappeared from view, Laurie forgot where she’d been headed. But her anger returned the minute she remembered Calvin’s attempt to get her off her overdose series. With a renewed sense of purpose, she marched to Calvin’s office and knocked on the open door. She was inside facing him before he had a chance to say a word.

She found Calvin seated behind a mountain of paperwork. He looked up over the tops of his wire-rimmed reading glasses that were dwarfed by his broad face. He didn’t seem happy to see her. “What is it, Montgomery?”

“There were two more overdoses last night similar to the kind that I am interested in,” Laurie began.

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know,” Calvin said.

“I know this is scheduled as a paper day for me, but I would appreciate it if you would let me do the autopsies. Something tells me these cases are related. By my doing them all, maybe I’ll make some connections.”

“We went over this on the phone,” Calvin said. “I told you I think you are getting carried away. You’ve become less than objective.”

“Please, Dr. Washington,” Laurie pleaded. She hated to beg.

“No! Goddamn it!” Calvin exploded. He slammed an open palm on his desk, sending some of his papers flying. He stood up. “George Fontworth is doing the overdoses, and I want you to stick to your own work. You’re behind in signing out some of your cases as it is. I don’t think I need to tell you. Now, I don’t need this kind of aggravation. Not with the pressure this office is under.”

Laurie nodded, then walked out of the office. If she weren’t so enraged, she would probably have been in tears. Leaving Calvin’s office, she went directly to Bingham’s.

This time Laurie waited to be asked in. Bingham was on the phone, but he waved her in.

Laurie got the impression Bingham was speaking to someone at city hall, since his side of the conversation reminded her of speaking with her mother. Bingham was saying “yes,” “certainly,” and “of course” over and over.

When he finally hung up and peered at Laurie she could tell he was already exasperated. It was not an opportune time for her visit. But since she was already there, and there was no one else to whom she could appeal, Laurie pressed on.

“I’m being deliberately prevented from further involvement with these upscale overdose cases,” she said. She tried to sound firm but her voice was filled with emotion. “Dr. Washington will not let me perform the relevant autopsies that have come in today. He made sure I wasn’t called to any of the scenes last night. I don’t think barring me from these cases is in the best interests of the department.”

Bingham put his face in his hands and rubbed, particularly his eyes. When he looked up again at Laurie his eyes were red. “We’re dealing with a lot of bad press about possibly mishandling a Central Park murder case; we’ve got a rash of brutal, professional homicides that are on top of the usual nighttime New York mayhem; and on top of that, you’re in here causing trouble. I don’t believe it, Laurie. Truly I don’t.”

“I want to be allowed to pursue these cases,” Laurie said evenly. “Now there are at least fourteen. Someone has to be looking at the whole picture. I think I’m the person to do it. I’m convinced we’re on the brink of a widespread disaster. If there is a contaminant, and I’m convinced there is, we must issue a public warning!”

Bingham was incredulous. Gazing up at the ceiling and throwing his hands up in the air, he muttered to himself: “She’s been on the staff for about five months and she’s telling me how to run the department.” He shook his head. Then he turned his attention back to Laurie. This time he sounded a lot fiercer.

“Calvin is an able administrator. In fact, he is more than able. He’s excellent. What he says goes. You hear me?! That’s it; the issue is closed.” With that, he turned his attention to the pile of letters stacked in his in-box.

Laurie headed straight for the lab. She decided it was better to keep moving. If she paused to think about these last two interviews, she might do something rash she’d later regret.

She was looking for Peter Letterman but ran into John DeVries instead. “Thanks for putting in a good word for me with the chief,” she said sarcastically. As angry as she was, she couldn’t contain herself.

“I don’t like to be pestered,” John said. “I warned you.”

“I wasn’t pestering,” Laurie snapped. “I was merely asking you to do your job. Have you found a contaminant?”

“No,” John said. He pushed past her without giving her the courtesy of a more detailed reply.

Laurie shook her head. She wondered if her days at the New York Medical Examiner’s Office were numbered.

She found Peter over in the corner of the lab, working on the largest and newest of the gas chromatographs.

“I think you should try to avoid John,” he said. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t looking for him,” Laurie answered.

“I haven’t found any contaminant, either,” Peter said. “But I’ve been running samples on this gas chromatograph. It has what they call a “trap.’ If we’re going to pick something up, this is the apparatus that will do it.”

“Keep at it,” Laurie said. “We’re up to fourteen cases now.”

“I did learn something,” Peter said. “As you know, cocaine naturally hydrolyzes to benzoylecgonine, ecgonine methyl ester, and ecgonine.”

“Yes,” Laurie said. “Go on.”

“Each batch of cocaine that is made has a unique percentage of these hydrolysates,” Peter said. “So by analyzing the concentrations, you can make a pretty educated guess as to the origin of the samples.”

“And?” Laurie asked.

“All the samples that I’ve recovered from the syringes have the same percentages,” Peter said. “That means the cocaine has all come from the same batch.”

“Meaning the same source,” Laurie added.

“Exactly,” Peter said.

“That’s what I suspected,” Laurie said. “It’s nice to have it documented.”

“I’ll let you know if I find any contaminant with this machine.”

“Please do,” Laurie said. “If I had proof of a contaminant I think Dr. Bingham would make a statement.” But as she returned to her office, Laurie wondered if she could be sure of anything.

“Don’t hold my arm!” Cerino shouted. Angelo had been trying to guide him through the entrance to Jordan Scheffield’s office. “I can see more than you think I can.” Cerino was carrying his red-tipped cane but wasn’t using it. Tony came in last and pulled the door shut.

One of Jordan’s nurses guided the group down the corridor, making sure that Cerino was comfortably seated in one of the examination chairs.