They made it to the car without incident. Angelo was thinking it was a good thing he’d gone in. Trigger-happy Tony would have left a trail of bodies in his wake.

Angelo was just pulling away from the curb when Tony confided in him. “Smothering wasn’t bad. But I still like shooting them better. It’s surer, quicker, and definitely more satisfying.”

Lou took out a cigarette and lit up. He didn’t even feel like smoking particularly. He was just interested in killing time. The meeting was to have started half an hour earlier but officers were still drifting in. The subject was the three gangland-style executions that had occurred in Queens overnight. Lou had thought the cases would have inspired a sense of urgency in the department, but three detectives were missing.

“Screw them,” Lou said finally, referring to the missing officers. He motioned to Norman Carver, a detective sergeant, to start. Norman was nominally in charge of the investigation, although in point of fact the three units covering the cases were acting independently.

“I’m afraid we don’t have much,” Norman said. “The only link we’ve established between the three cases, other than the manner of murder, is that each of the men was involved in the restaurant business in one way or another, either as an owner, partner, or supplier.”

“That’s not much of an association,” Lou commented. “Let’s review each case.”

“The first one was the Goldburgs in Kew Gardens,” Norman said. “Both Harry and Martha Goldburg were shot dead in their sleep. The preliminary report suggests two guns were involved.”

“And Harry’s occupation?” Lou asked.

“Owned a successful restaurant here in Manhattan,” Norman said. “Place is called La Dolce Vita. East side. Fifty-fourth. He was partners with an Anthony DeBartollo. So far we’ve come up with no problems, financial or personal, involving the partnership or the restaurant.”

“Next,” Lou said.

“Steven Vivonetto of Forest Hills,” Norman said. “Owned a chain of fast-food joints all over Nassau County called Pasta Pronto. Again no financial problems that we’ve come across, but these are all just preliminaries.”

“And finally.”

“Janice Singleton, also of Forest Hills,” Norman said. “Married to Chester Singleton. He has a restaurant-purveyor business and was recently picked up by the Vivonetto chain as a supplier. Again, no financial problems. In fact things had been looking up with the Pasta Pronto account.”

“Who’d been supplying the Pasta Pronto before Singleton?” Lou asked.

“Don’t know that yet,” Norman said.

“I think we should find that out,” Lou said. “Did the Singletons and the Vivonettos know each other personally?”

“We haven’t established that yet,” Norman said. “But we will.”

“What about any organized-crime associations?” Lou asked. “The way these people were killed certainly suggests as much.”

“That’s what we thought when we started,” Norman said. He glanced around at the five other men in the room. They all nodded. “But we’ve found almost nothing. A couple of the restaurants that Singleton supplied have some loose association, but nothing major.”

Lou sighed. “There’s got to be some connection linking the three.”

“I agree,” Norman said. “The slugs we got from the medical examiners suggest that Harry Goldburg, Steven Vivonetto, and Janice Singleton were shot with the same gun, Martha Goldburg from another. But that’s not the ballistics report. It’s just from preliminary examination. But they were all the same caliber. So we have a strong suspicion the same people were behind all three murders.”

“What about burglary?” Lou asked.

“Relatives of the Goldburgs say that Harry had a big gold Rolex. We haven’t found it. Also his wallet could not be located. But at the other scenes, nothing seems to have been taken.”

“Seems that the answer has to be in the restaurant connection,” Lou said. “Get detailed financial statements on all the operations. Also try to find out if these guys had been subjected to extortion or other threats. And do it sooner rather than later. The commissioner is on my back.”

“We’ve got people working around the clock,” Norman said.

Lou nodded.

Norman handed a typewritten sheet to Lou. “Here’s a summary of what I just told you. Sorry for the typos.”

Lou read it over quickly. He took a thoughtful drag on his cigarette. Something big and bad was going on in Queens. There was no doubt about it. He wondered if these murders could have had anything to do with Paul Cerino. It seemed unlikely. But then Lou thought of Marsha Schulman. He wondered if any of the deceased were acquainted with her husband, Danny. It was a long shot, but there was a chance he was the connecting thread.

8

3:00 p.m., Thursday

Manhattan

After getting a cup of coffee from the ID office that looked more like sludge than coffee by that time of the day, Laurie pushed her way into the Thursday afternoon conference which was held in the conference room connected to Bingham’s office. This was the one opportunity for all the city’s medical examiners to get together and share cases and discuss diagnostic problems. Although the office of the chief medical examiner handled deaths in the Bronx as well as Manhattan, the boroughs of Queens, Brooklyn, and Staten Island had their own offices. Thursday was the day they all got together. Coming to the conference was not an option. As far as Bingham was concerned, it was a command performance.

As usual, Laurie took a seat near to the door. When the discussions became too administrative or political for her taste, she liked to slip away.

The most interesting part of these weekly conferences usually occurred before the meeting was called to order. It was in these casual conversations beforehand that Laurie was able to pick up interesting tidbits and details of particularly baffling or gruesome cases. In that respect, this Thursday’s meeting proved no different.

“I’d thought I’d seen it all,” Dick Katzenburg told Paul Plodgett and Kevin Southgate. Dick was a senior medical examiner assigned to the Queens office. Laurie’s ears perked up.

“It was the weirdest homicide I’d seen,” Dick continued. “And God knows I’ve seen some strange ones.”

“Are you going to tell us or do we have to beg?” Kevin asked, obviously as eager for the story. Medical examiners loved to swap “war stories” that were either intellectually stimulating or grotesquely bizarre.

“It was a young guy,” Dick said. “Done in a funeral home with the aspirator that they use for embalming.”

“He was bludgeoned to death?” Kevin asked. So far he was unimpressed.

“No!” Dick said. “With the trocar. The aspirator was running. It was as if the kid was embalmed alive.”

“Ugh,” Paul said, obviously impressed. “That is weird. It reminds me of the case-”

“Dr. Montgomery,” a voice called.

Laurie turned. Dr. Bingham stood before her. “I’m afraid there is something else I have to discuss with you,” he said.

Laurie felt queasy. She wondered what she’d done now.

“Dr. DeVries came to see me,” Bingham said. “He complained that you have been coming in his lab bothering him about some test results. Now I know that you are eager for those results, but you’re not the only one waiting. Dr. DeVries is swamped right now. I don’t think I have to tell you. But don’t expect special treatment. You’re going to have to wait like everyone else. I’ll thank you not to harass Dr. DeVries any further. Do I make myself clear?”

Laurie was tempted to say something like DeVries had a hell of a way of going after more funding, but Bingham turned away. Before Laurie had a chance to dwell on this, her third reprimand in four days, Bingham called the meeting to order.