“Now what?” Marvin asked. His patience was wearing thin.
“Can you produce a list of all the refrigerator compartments that are occupied at the moment?” Laurie asked.
“Sure, that’s easy,” Marvin said.
“Please,” Laurie said, while gesturing toward Marvin’s computer terminal. “While you’re at it, make two copies.”
Marvin shrugged and sat down. Using a relatively rapid hunt-and-peck style, he directed the computer to produce the list Laurie wanted. He handed the two sheets to her the moment they came out of the printer.
“Excellent,” Laurie said, glancing at the sheets. “Come on!” As she left the mortuary office, she waved over her shoulder. Marvin followed at her heels.
They walked down the stained cement corridor to the giant island that dominated the morgue. On opposite sides were the banks of refrigerated compartments used to store the bodies before autopsy.
Laurie handed one of the lists to Marvin.
“I want to search every compartment that is not occupied,” Laurie said. “You take this side and I’ll take the other.”
Marvin rolled his eyes but took the list. He started opening the compartments, peering inside, then slamming the doors. Laurie went around to the other side of the island and did the same.
“Uh-oh!” Marvin intoned after five minutes.
Laurie paused. “What is it?”
“You’d better come over here,” Marvin said.
Laurie walked around the island. Marvin was standing at the far end of the island, scratching his head while staring at his list. In front of him was an open refrigerated compartment.
“This one is supposed to be empty,” Marvin said.
Laurie glanced within and felt her pulse race. Inside, was a naked male corpse with no tag on its big toe. The number of the compartment was ninety-four. It wasn’t too far away from number one eleven, where Franconi was supposed to have been.
Marvin slid out the tray. It rattled on its ball bearings in the stillness of the deserted morgue. The body was a middle-aged male with signs of extensive trauma to the legs and torso.
“Well, this explains it,” Laurie said. Her voice reflected an improbable mixture of triumph, anger, and fear. “It’s the unidentified corpse. He’d been a hit-and-run accident on the FDR Drive.”
Jack stepped off the elevator and could hear a phone ringing insistently. As he proceeded down the hall he became progressively aware it had to be his phone, especially since his office was the only one with an open door.
Jack picked up speed and then almost missed his door as he slid on the vinyl flooring. He snapped the phone off the hook just in time. It was Lou.
“Where the hell have you been?” Lou complained.
“I got stuck over at the University Hospital,” Jack said. After Jack had last talked with Lou, Dr. Malovar had appeared and had him look at some forensic slides for him. So soon on the heels of his consulting Malovar, Jack didn’t feel he could refuse.
“I’ve been calling every fifteen minutes,” Lou remarked.
“Sorry,” Jack said.
“I’ve got some surprising information that I’ve been dying to give you,” Lou said. “This is one weird case.”
“That’s not telling me anything I didn’t already know,” Jack said. “What did you learn?”
Movement out of the corner of Jack’s eye attracted his attention. Turning his head, he saw Laurie standing in the doorway. She did not look normal. Her eyes were blazing, her mouth was set in an angry grimace, and her skin was the color of ivory.
“Wait a sec!” Jack said, interrupting Lou. “Laurie, what the hell is the matter?”
“I have to talk with you,” Laurie sputtered.
“Sure,” Jack said. “But could it wait for two minutes?” He pointed at the phone to indicate that he was talking with someone.
“Now!” Laurie barked.
“Okay, okay,” Jack repeated. It was clear to him she was as tense as a piano wire about to snap.
“Listen, Lou,” Jack said into the phone. “Laurie just came in, and she’s upset. Let me call you right back.”
“Hold on!” Laurie snapped. “Is that Lou Soldano you’re talking with?”
“Yeah,” Jack said hesitantly. For an irrational instant, he thought that Laurie was overwrought because he was talking with Lou.
“Where is he?” Laurie demanded.
Jack shrugged. “I guess he’s in his office.”
“Ask him,” Laurie snapped.
Jack posed the question, and Lou answered in the affirmative. Jack nodded to Laurie. “He’s there,” he said.
“Tell him we’re coming down to see him,” Laurie said.
Jack hesitated. He was confused.
“Tell him!” Laurie repeated. “Tell him we’re leaving right away.”
“Did you hear that?” Jack asked Lou. Laurie then disappeared down the corridor toward her office.
“I did,” Lou said. “What’s going on?”
“Damned if I know,” Jack said. “She just barreled in. Unless I call you right back, we’ll be there.”
“Fine,” Lou said. “I’ll wait.”
Jack hung up the phone and rushed out into the hall. Laurie was already on her way back and was struggling into her coat. She eyed him as she brushed past on her way to the elevators. Jack hustled to catch up with her.
“What’s happened?” Jack asked hesitantly. He was afraid to upset her any more than she already was.
“I’m about ninety-nine percent sure how Franconi’s body was taken from here,” Laurie said angrily. “And two things are becoming clear. First, the Spoletto Funeral Home was involved and second, the abduction was surely abetted by someone who works here. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure which of these two things bothers me more.”
“Jeez, look at that traffic,” Franco Ponti said to Angelo Facciolo. “I’m sure as hell glad we’re going into Manhattan instead of going out.”
Franco and Angelo were in Franco’s black Cadillac, heading west on the Queensboro Bridge. It was five-thirty, the height of rush hour. Both men were dressed as if they were going to a ritzy dinner.
“What order do you want to do this in?” Franco asked.
Angelo shrugged. “Maybe the girl first,” he said. His face twisted into a slight smile.
“You’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?” Franco commented.
Angelo raised his eyebrows as much as his facial scar tissue would allow. “Five years I’ve been dreaming about seeing this broad professionally,” he said. “I guess I never thought I would get my chance.”
“I know I don’t have to remind you that we follow orders,” Franco said. “To the letter.”
“Cerino was never so specific,” Angelo said. “He’d just tell us to do a job. He didn’t tell us how to do it.”
“That’s why Cerino is in jail and Vinnie is running the show,” Franco said.
“I’ll tell you what,” Angelo said. “Why don’t we do a drive by Jack Stapleton’s place. I’ve already been inside Laurie Montgomery’s apartment, so I know what we’re getting ourselves into. But I’m a little surprised by this other address. West One Hundred-sixth Street isn’t where I’d expect a doctor to be living.”
“I think a drive-by sounds smart,” Franco said.
When they reached Manhattan, Franco continued west on Fifty-ninth Street. He rounded the southern end of Central Park and headed north on Central Park West.
Angelo thought back to the fateful day on the pier of the American Fresh Fruit Company when Laurie caused the explosion. Angelo had had skin problems from chicken pox and acne, but it had been the burns he suffered because of Laurie Montgomery that had turned him into what he called a “freak.”
Franco posed a question, but Angelo hadn’t heard him because of his angry musings. He had to ask him to repeat it.
“I bet you’d like to stick it to that Laurie Montgomery,” Franco said. “If it had been me, I sure would
.”
Angelo let out a sarcastic laugh. Unconsciously, he moved his left arm so that he could feel the reassuring mass of his Walther TPH auto pistol snuggled into its shoulder holster.
Franco turned left onto One Hundred-sixth Street. They passed a playground on the right that was in full use, particularly the basketball court. There were lots of people standing on the sidelines.
“It must be on the left,” Franco said.
Angelo consulted the piece of paper he was holding with Jack’s address. “It’s coming up,” he said. “It’s the building with the fancy top.”
Franco slowed and then stopped to double-park a few buildings short of Jack’s on the opposite side of the street. A car behind beeped. Franco lowered his window and motioned for the car to pass. There was cursing as the car did so. Franco shook his head. “You hear that guy? Nobody in this city has any manners.”
“Why would a doctor live there?” Angelo said. He was eyeing Jack’s building through the front windshield.
Franco shook his head. “Doesn’t make any sense to me. The building looks like a dump.”
“Amendola said he was a little strange,” Angelo said. “Apparently, he rides a bike from here all the way down to the morgue at First Avenue and Thirtieth Street every day.”
“No way!” Franco commented.
“That’s what Amendola said,” Angelo said.
Franco’s eyes scanned the area. “The whole neighborhood is a dump. Maybe he’s into drugs.”
Angelo opened the car door and got out.
“Where are you going?” Franco asked.
“I want to check to make sure he lives here,” Angelo said. “Amendola said his apartment is the fourth floor rear. I’ll be right back.”
Angelo rounded the car and waited for a break in the traffic. He crossed the street and climbed to the stoop in front of Jack’s building. Calmly, he pushed open the outer door and glanced at the mailboxes. Many were broken. None had locks that worked.
Quickly, Angelo sorted through the mail. As soon as he came across a catalogue addressed to Jack Stapleton, he put it all back. Next, he tried the inner door. It opened with ease.
Stepping into the front hall, Angelo took a breath. There was an unpleasant musty odor. He eyed the trash on the stairs, the peeling paint, and the broken light bulbs in the once-elegant chandelier. Up on the second floor, he could hear the sounds of a domestic fight with muffled screaming. Angelo smiled. Dealing with Jack Stapleton was going to be easy. The tenement looked like a crack house.
Returning to the front of the house, Angelo took a step away to determine which underground passageway belonged to Jack’s building. Each house had a sunken corridor reached by a half dozen steps. These corridors led to the backyards.
After deciding which was the appropriate one, Angelo gingerly walked its length. There were puddles and refuse which threatened his Bruno Magli shoes.
The backyard was a tumult of decaying and collapsed fencing, rotting mattresses, abandoned tires, and other trash. After carefully picking his way a few feet from the building, Angelo turned to look at the fire escape. On the fourth floor two windows had access. The windows were dark. The doctor wasn’t at home.
Angelo returned and climbed back into the car.
“Well?” Franco asked.
“He lives there all right,” Angelo said. “The building is worse on the inside if you can believe it. It’s not locked. I could hear a couple fighting on the second floor and someone else’s TV on full blast. The place is not pretty but for our purposes it’s perfect. It’ll be easy.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Franco said. “Should we still do the woman first?”
Angelo smiled as best he could. “Why deny myself?”
Franco put the car in gear. They headed south on Columbus Avenue to Broadway then cut across town to Second Avenue. Soon they were on Nineteenth Street. Angelo didn’t need the address. He pointed out Laurie’s building without difficulty. Franco found a convenient no-parking zone and parked.
“So, you think we should go up the back way?” Franco said, while eyeing the building.
“For several reasons,” Angelo said. “She’s on the fifth floor, but her windows face the back. To tell if she’s there, we have to go back there anyway. Also she’s got a nosy neighbor who lives in the front, and you can see her lights are on. This woman opened her door to gawk at me the two times I was up at Montgomery’s front door. Besides, Montgomery’s apartment has access to the back stairs, and the back stairs dump directly into the backyard. I know because we chased her out that way.”
“I’m convinced,” Franco said. “Let’s do it.”
Franco and Angelo got out of the car. Angelo opened up the backseat and lifted out his bag of lock-picking tools along with a Halligan bar, a tool firefighters use to get through doors in cases of emergency.
The two men headed for the passageway to the backyard.
“I heard she got away from you and Tony Ruggerio,” Franco said. “At least for a while. She must be quite a number.”
“Don’t remind me,” Angelo said. “Of course, working with Tony was like carrying around a bucket of sand.”
Emerging into the backyard, which was a dark warren of neglected gardens, Franco and Angelo carefully moved away from the building far enough to see up to the fifth floor. The windows were all dark.
“Looks like we have time to prepare a nice homecoming,” Franco said.
Angelo didn’t answer. Instead, he took his lock-picking tools over to the metal fire door that led to the back stairs. He slipped on a tight-fitting pair of leather gloves, while Franco readied the flashlight.
At first Angelo’s hands shook from sheer anticipatory excitement of coming face-to-face with Laurie Montgomery after five years of smoldering resentment. When the lock resisted Angelo’s efforts, he made a point to control himself and concentrate. The lock responded, and the door opened.
Five floors up, Angelo didn’t bother with the lock-picking tools. He knew that Laurie had several dead bolts. He used the Halligan bar. With a quiet splintering sound, it made short work of the door. Within twenty seconds, they were inside.
For a few minutes, the two men stood motionless in the darkness of Laurie’s pantry so that they could listen. They wanted to be certain there were no sounds suggestive that their forced entry had been noticed by any of the other tenants.
“Jesus Christ!” Franco forcibly whispered. “Something just touched my leg!”
“What is it?” Angelo demanded. He’d not expected such an outburst, and it caused his heart to flutter.
“Oh, it’s only a goddamn cat!” Franco said with relief. All at once, both men could hear the animal purring in the darkness.
“Aren’t we lucky,” Angelo said. “That will be a nice touch. Bring it along.”
Slowly, the men made their way from the pantry through the dark kitchen and into the living room. There they could see significantly better with the city night light coming through the windows.
“So far so good,” Angelo said.
“Now we just have to wait,” Franco said. “Maybe I’ll see if there’s any beer or wine in the refrigerator. Are you interested?”
“A beer would be nice,” Angelo said.
At police headquarters, Laurie and Jack had to get ID badges and go through a metal detector before they were allowed to go up to Lou’s floor. Lou was at the elevator to welcome them.
The first thing he did was take Laurie by the shoulders, look her in the eye, and ask what had happened.
“She’s okay,” Jack said, patting Lou reassuringly on the back. “She’s back to her old, rational, calm self.”
“Really?” Lou questioned, still giving Laurie a close inspection.
Laurie couldn’t help but smile under Lou’s intense scrutiny. “Jack’s right,” she said. “I’m fine. In fact, I’m embarrassed I made us rush down here.”
Lou breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I’m happy to see both of yo
u. Come on back to my palace.” He led the way to his office.
“I can offer you coffee, but I strongly advise against it,” Lou said. “At this time of day the janitorial staff considers it strong enough to clean out sink drains.”
“We’re fine,” Laurie said. She took a chair.
Jack did likewise. He glanced around the spartan quarters with an unpleasant shiver. The last time he’d been there about a year ago, it had been after he’d narrowly escaped an attempt on his life.
“I think I figured out how Franconi’s body was taken from the morgue,” Laurie began. “You teased me about suspecting the Spoletto Funeral Home, but now I think you’re going to have to take that back. In fact, I think it’s time that you took over.”
Laurie then outlined what she thought had happened. She told Lou that she suspected that someone from the medical examiner’s office had given the Spoletto people the accession number of a relatively recent, unidentified body as well as the location of Franconi’s remains.
“Often when two drivers come to pick up a body for a funeral home, one of them goes in the walk-in cooler while the other handles the paperwork with the mortuary tech,” Laurie explained. “In these instances, the mortuary tech prepares the body for pickup by covering it with a sheet and positioning its gurney in a convenient location just inside the cooler door. In the Franconi situation, I believe the driver took the body whose accession number he had, removed its tag, stashed the body in one of the many unoccupied refrigerator compartments, replaced Franconi’s tag with that one, and then calmly appeared outside the mortuary office with Franconi’s remains. All the tech did at that point was check the accession number.”
“That’s quite a scenario,” Lou said. “Can I ask if you have any proof of this or is it all conjecture?”
“I found the body whose accession number Spoletto called in,” Laurie said. “It was in a compartment which was supposed to be vacant. The name Frank Gleason was bogus.”
“Ahhhh!” Lou said, becoming much more interested. He leaned forward on his desk. “I’m beginning to like this very much, especially considering the matrimonial association between the Spoletto and the Lucia people. This could be something important. It kind’a reminds me of getting Al Capone on tax evasion. I mean, it would be fantastic if we could get some of the Lucia people on body theft!”