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 written from a sarcastic, mocking point of view. It cast equal aspersion on the police department and the medical examiner’s office. It said the whole sordid affair was just another glowing example of the gross incompetence of both organizations.

Laurie breezed into the room and interrupted Jack. As she removed her coat, she told him that she hoped he felt better than she.

“Probably not,” Jack admitted. “It was that cheap wine I brought over. I’m sorry.”

“It was also the five hours of sleep,” Laurie said. “I had a terrible time hauling myself out of bed.” She put her coat down on a chair. “Good morning, Vinnie,” she called out.

Vinnie stayed silent behind his sports page.

“He’s pouting because I violated his paper,” Jack said. Jack got up so Laurie could sit down at the scheduling desk. It was Laurie’s week to divvy up the cases for autopsy among the staff. “The headlines and cover story are about the Franconi incident.”

“I wouldn’t wonder,” Laurie said. “It was all over the local news, and I heard it announced that Bingham will be on Good Morning America to attempt damage control.”

“He’s got his hands full,” Jack said.

“Have you looked at today’s cases?” Laurie asked, as she started glancing through the twenty or so folders.

“I just got here myself,” Jack admitted. He continued reading the article.

“Oh, this is good!” Jack commented after a moment’s silence. “They’re alleging that there is some kind of conspiracy between us and the police department. They suggest we might have deliberately disposed of the body for their benefit. Can you imagine! These media people are so paranoid that they see conspiracy in everything!”

“It’s the public who is paranoid,” Laurie said. “The media likes to give them what they want. But that kind of wild theory is exactly why I’m going to find out how that body disappeared. The public has to know we are impartial.”

“I was hoping you’d have a change of heart and given up on that quest after a night’s sleep,” Jack mumbled while continuing to read.

“Not a chance,” Laurie said.

“This is crazy!” Jack said, slapping the page of newsprint. “First they suggest we here at the ME office were responsible for the body disappearing, and now they say the mob undoubtedly buried the remains in the wilds of Westchester so they will never be found.”

“The last part is probably correct,” Laurie said. “Unless the body turns up in the spring thaw. With the frost it’s hard to dig more than a foot below the surface.”

“Gads, what trash!” Jack commented as he finished the article. “Here, you want to read it?” He offered the front pages of the paper to Laurie.

Laurie waved them off. “Thanks, but I already read the version in the Times,” she said. “It was caustic enough. I don’t need the New York Post’s point of view.”

Jack went back over to Vinnie and quipped that he was willing to return his paper to its virginal state. Vinnie took the pages without comment.

“You are awfully sensitive today,” Jack said to the tech.

“Just leave me alone,” Vinnie snapped.

“Whoa, watch out, Laurie!” Jack said. “I think Vinnie has pre-mental tension. He’s probably planning on doing some thinking and it’s got his hormones all out of whack.”

“Uh-oh!” Laurie called out. “Here’s that floater that Mike Passano mentioned last night. Who should I assign it to? Trouble is I don’t think I’m mad at anyone and to forestall guilt I’ll probably end up doing it myself.”

“Give it to me,” Jack said.

“You don’t care?” Laurie asked. She hated floaters, especially those which had been in the water for a long time. Such autopsies were unpleasant and often difficult jobs.

“Nah,” Jack said. “Once you get past the smell, you got it licked.”

“Please!” Laurie murmured. “That’s disgusting.”

“Seriously,” Jack said. “They can be a challenge. I like them better than gunshot wounds.”

“This one is both,” Laurie commented, as she put Jack down for the floater.

“How delightful!” Jack commented. He walked back to the scheduling desk and looked over Laurie’s shoulder.

“There’s a presumptive, close range shotgun blast to the upper-right quadrant,” Laurie said.

“It’s sounding better and better,” Jack said. “What’s the victim’s name?”

“No name,” Laurie said. “In fact, that will be part of your challenge. The head and the hands are missing.”

Laurie handed Jack the folder. He leaned on the edge of the desk and slid out the contents. There wasn’t much information. What there was came from the forensic investigator, Janice Jaeger.

Janice wrote that the body had been discovered in the Atlantic Ocean way out off Coney Island. It had been inadvertently found by a Coast Guard cutter which had been lying in wait under the cover of night for some suspected drug runners. The Coast Guard had acted on an anonymous tip, and, at the time of the discovery, had been essentially dead in the water with their lights out and radar on. The cutter had literally bumped up against the body. The presumption was that it was the remains of the drug runner/informer.

“Not a lot to go on,” Jack said.

“All the more challenge,” Laurie teased.

Jack slipped off the desk and headed for the communications room en route to the elevator. “Come on, grouchy!” he called to Vinnie. He gave Vinnie’s paper a slap and his arm a tug as he passed. “Time’s a wasting.” But at the door he literally bumped into Lou Soldano. The detective lieutenant had his mind on his goal: the coffee machine.

“Jeez,” Jack commented. “You should try out for the New York Giants.” Some of his coffee had sloshed out onto the floor.

“Sorry,” Lou said. “I’m in sorry need of some Java.”

Both men went to the coffeepot. Jack used some paper towels to dab at the spill down the front of his corduroy jacket. Lou filled a Styrofoam cup to the brim with a shaky hand, then sipped enough to allow for plenty of cream and sugar.

Lou sighed. “It’s been a grueling couple of days.”

“Have you been partying all night again?” Jack said.

Lou’s face was stubbled with a heavy growth of whiskers. He had on a wrinkled blue shirt with the top button undone and his tie loosened and askew. His Colombo-style trench coat looked like something a homeless person would wear.