“But not only gangsters get hurt when crime wars break out,” Lou yelled. “Besides, organized crime reaches way down into our lives. In a city like New York it is all around us. Take trash collection-”

“I don’t care about trash collection!” Laurie yelled. “That’s the most stupid comment that I-”

All of a sudden Laurie stopped in midsentence. She realized she’d become angry, and that getting angry at Lou was ridiculous.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice,” Laurie said. “I sound like I’m mad at you, but I’m not. I’m just frustrated. I can’t get anyone else to share my concern about these particular overdose deaths-not even you-and I think future deaths are preventable. But at the rate I’m going we’re like to have forty more ODs before anybody blinks about them.”

“And I’m sorry for raising my voice,” Lou said. “I suppose I’m frustrated too. I need some kind of break. Plus I have the police commissioner breathing down my back. I’ve only been a lieutenant on homicide for a year. I want to save lives, but I also want to save my job. I like being a policeman. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“Speaking of police,” Laurie said, changing the subject, “I had a little shock last night I wanted to share with you. I’d like your advice.”

Laurie described the experience she’d had the night before at Stuart Morgan’s apartment. She tried to be as objective as possible since there had been no hard evidence. Yet as she told the story, especially with the three dollars remaining in the money belt, she became even more convinced that the uniformed patrolmen had stolen things from the Stuart Morgan apartment.

“That’s too bad,” Lou said dejectedly.

There was a pause. Laurie looked at Lou expectantly.

“Is that all you can say?” Laurie questioned finally.

“What else can I say? I hate to hear stories like that, but it happens. What can you do?”

“I thought you’d demand to know the names of the officers involved so that you could reprimand them and-”

“And what?” Lou asked. “Get them fired? I’m not going to do that. You have to expect a little thievery once in a while with the kind of money the typical uniformed patrolman pulls down. A few bucks here and there. It’s like incentive pay. Remember, police work is Godawful frustrating as well as dangerous. So it’s not so surprising. Not that I personally condone it, but you have to expect some.”

“That sounds like convenient morality,” Laurie said. “When you start allowing the “good guys’ to break the law, where do you stop? And not only is this kind of thievery morally objectionable, it’s also a disaster from a medical-legal point of view. These guys mucked around with a scene, distorting and destroying evidence.”

“It’s bad and it’s wrong, but I’m not about to make an issue about this kind of illicit behavior at a drug overdose scene. I’d feel differently if it had been a homicide. I’m sure the officers would too.”

“I can’t believe what a double standard you have! Any drug user can drop dead as far as you’re concerned, and if cops steal from a victim before the M.E. arrives, so much the better.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Lou said, “but this is just the way I feel. You asked me how I felt, I’ve told you. If you want to pursue the matter, I suggest you call Internal Affairs at police headquarters and tell the story to them. Me, I’d rather concentrate on serious bad guys.”

“Once again I can’t believe I’m hearing you correctly,” Laurie said. “I’m floored. What am I, too naive?”

“I take the fifth amendment,” Lou said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “But I tell you what. Why don’t we discuss it further this evening. How about dinner tonight?”

“I have plans,” Laurie said.

“Of course,” Lou said. “How silly of me to think you might be available. I suppose it is Dr. Roses again. But don’t tell me. What’s left of my ego couldn’t take it. With his limo and all, he’s probably taking you to those places where I couldn’t afford to check my coat. Like I said yesterday, let me know if your lab decides to do any of the tests that might show anything. Ciao!”

With that, Lou got up and left the room. Laurie was happy to see him go. He could be so irritating. If he wanted to take personally her turning him down for that evening, he was welcome to. What did he expect her to do? Drop everything?

She was about to call Internal Affairs as Lou had facetiously suggested, but before she could pick up the receiver, the phone rang. It was Jordan returning her call.

“I hope you didn’t call to cancel for tonight,” he said.

“Nothing like that,” Laurie said. “It’s about your secretary, Marsha Schulman.”

“You mean my former secretary,” Jordan said. “She didn’t show up or call this morning either, so I’m in the process of replacing her. I already have a temp.”

“I’m afraid she’s dead,” Laurie said.

“Oh, no!” Jordan said. “Are you serious?”

Laurie explained how she had made the identification of the headless corpse with the chest X-ray, and the fact of the two surgeries.

“The forensic medical investigators are following up to make the identification even more certain,” Laurie said, “but with what we have already, I think we can be quite confident.”

“I wonder if that bastard husband was involved,” Jordan wondered aloud.

“I’m sure the police will be looking into the possibility,” Laurie said. “Anyway, I thought you should know.”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Jordan said. “What horrible news.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of sad tidings,” Laurie said.

“It’s not your fault,” Jordan said. “And I had to be told. Anyway, I’ll still see you at eight.”

“Eight it is.”

Laurie hung up and dialed Internal Affairs. She spoke to a disinterested secretary who took down the details of her story, promising to pass them along to her boss.

Laurie sat at her desk to compose her thoughts before returning to the autopsy room for her last case. She was beginning to feel overwhelmed. It felt as if every aspect of her life-personal, professional, ethical-was spinning out of control.

“I’m Lieutenant Lou Soldano,” Lou said politely. He passed his credentials to the bright-eyed secretary at the reception desk.

“Homicide?” she asked.

“That’s right,” Lou said. “I’d like to speak with the doctor. I only need a few minutes of his time.”

“If you’ll have a seat in the waiting room, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Lou sat down and idly flipped through a recent edition of The New Yorker. He noticed the drawings on the walls, especially one that was blatantly pornographic. He wondered if someone had actually chosen them or if they had come with the office. Either way, thought Lou, there was no accounting for some people’s taste.

Other than the drawings, Lou was impressed with the waiting room. The walls were paneled with mahogany. A tasteful, inch-thick oriental carpet covered the floor. But then Lou already knew the good doctor did quite well for himself.

Lou looked at the faces of the patients who paid for this opulence, plus the limo and the roses. There were about ten in the waiting room, some with eyepatches, some who looked totally healthy, including one middle-aged woman draped in jewels. Lou would have loved to ask her what she was there for, just to get an idea, but he didn’t dare.

Time passed slowly as one by one the patients disappeared into the depths of the office. Lou tried to contain his impatience, but after three-quarters of an hour, he began to get irritated. He began to think it was a deliberate snub on Jordan Scheffield’s part. Although Lou didn’t have an appointment, he’d expected to be seen relatively quickly, perhaps to schedule a future visit if it were needed. It wasn’t every day a detective lieutenant from Homicide dropped by someone’s office. Besides, Lou hadn’t planned on taking much of the doctor’s time.