Just beyond the Queensboro Bridge, the traffic snarled with backed-up cars vying to get onto the ramp leading to the FDR Drive north. Jack was reduced to slaloming between stopped cars, buses, and trucks until he was able to worm his way across the grid-locked 63rd Street intersection. Breaking away from the pack, he stood up on his pedals to regain his speed.

From that point north, Jack had no trouble. At the corner of 82nd Street and Second Avenue, Jack went up onto the sidewalk and dismounted. He secured his bike and helmet to a No Parking sign. When he walked into Elios, he was only three minutes late.

Jack stood by the mahogany bar just inside the door and took in the scene. Waiters in freshly laundered white aprons scurried about, making sure the linen-topped tables were in order. There were few customers sprinkled around the narrow but deep interior. To Jack's immediate right was a round table occupied by a loud group, several of whom Jack vaguely recognized as TV people, even though he didn't own a TV. At first, he didn't see Laurie and thought he was the first to arrive.

The owner, an elegantly tall woman, approached him; when Jack said he was there for a reservation under the name of Montgomery, she took his leather bomber jacket, which she immediately handed to an unoccupied waiter, and motioned for Jack to follow her. Halfway into the dining room, he saw Laurie at a table to the right, engrossed in conversation with a mustached waiter. In front of her was a bottle of sparkling Italian water, but no wine. He knew how much Laurie liked wine, and in the past, if he was ever late for a dinner together, she always went ahead and ordered a bottle. Why she didn't on this occasion, he had no idea.

Jack leaned over and gave Laurie a fleeting kiss on the cheek before he even thought about whether he should do it or not. He then shook hands with the waiter who was a remarkably friendly chap. As Jack sat down, the waiter asked him if he wanted any wine.

"Yeah, I guess," Jack said. He looked at Laurie.

"You go ahead," Laurie said pointing to her water glass. "I'm going to stick with this."

"Oh?" Jack questioned. He was already slightly off guard at a dinner date where he had no idea what to expect. He waffled for a moment, then told the waiter to bring him a beer. If Laurie wasn't going to drink wine, he wouldn't, either. He thought it was a matter of principle, even if he had no idea what the principle was.

"I'm glad you got here safely," Laurie said. "I was hoping after that courier case you'd rethink the advisability of courting death on a daily basis."

Jack nodded but didn't respond. To him, Laurie looked radiant. She was wearing one of his favorite outfits, and he wondered if she had chosen it on purpose. Not only had she changed clothes, she had washed her hair. At the OCME, Laurie wore her hair either piled on top of her head or in a French braid, but tonight it was down and cascaded over her shoulders to form a soft frame around her face.

"You look great," Jack said.

"Thank you. You look good, too."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Jack said with obvious disbelief. He looked down at his wrinkled chambray shirt, mildly spotted, dark blue knitted tie, and slightly grease-stained jeans. Next to Laurie's splendor, he felt like the poor relation.

While the waiter was off getting Jack's beer, they made small talk about the numerous times they had been at the restaurant. Laurie mentioned the time she had brought Paul Sutherland into Elios for a surprise meeting with Jack and Lou when she was thinking of marrying the man.

"Well, that wasn't my favorite night here," Jack admitted.

"It wasn't mine, either," Laurie agreed. "The reason it comes to mind is that just yesterday, Lou brought it up out of the blue and said that you and he were jealous."

"Really? Well, what does Lou know?"

"I have to tell you, just so you know, I never thought you were jealous."

The waiter returned with Jack's beer and a basket of bread. "Would you like to hear the specials now, or do you want to wait?"

"I think we'll wait for a few minutes," Laurie responded.

"Just give a yell," the waiter said agreeably. Jack and Laurie watched him head back into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry about suggesting this afternoon that having dinner with you was a sacrifice," Jack said when they looked back at each other. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It was supposed to be funny."

"Thank you for your apology. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have reacted as I did. I'm afraid I'm not seeing much humor in things lately."

"Well, I didn't get a chance to tell you that Mulhausen was clean, just as you suspected. There was no pathology whatsoever on gross. And talking about Lou, you should know that I told him that I was coming around to your serial-killer idea and that his department might want to look into it."

"Really? And what did he say?"

"He wanted to know what the official OCME position was, and I told him."

"And?"

"He said under the circumstances, with neither the OCME or the hospital taking a stand and the mayor's office tangentially involved, his hands were, in a sense, tied."

"I'm going to try to change all that by coming up with a list of suspects."

"Actual suspects! Whoa! That would certainly alter the landscape. And strange that you should say that. I had a new thought along those lines."

"This should be interesting."

"Although the deaths in your series seem counterproductive to the actuarial interests of managed care, there are a couple of ways they could be related to the managed-care phenomenon."

"I'm listening."

"Managed care has had to be aggressive, taking over practices and hospitals in an often hostile way. Your serial killer could be someone as angry at AmeriCare as I am. I have to admit I'd harbored some murderous thoughts after AmeriCare gobbled up my practice. If it weren't for AmeriCare, I'd still be a conservative ophthalmologist back in the Midwest, walking around in a glen plaid suit and struggling to put a couple of girls through college."

"No matter how many times you tell me the story of your former life, I find it hard to picture. I'm sure I wouldn't recognize you."

"I wouldn't recognize myself!"

"But your point is well taken. A physician who has admitting privileges at Manhattan General and Saint Francis Hospital is one of the profiles that is being considered. What's your other idea?"

"Managed-care competition! It's a dog-eat-dog business world out there in the medical arena. As the two local giants in the industry, National Health and AmeriCare have bumped heads in the past with some strikingly underhanded machinations coming to light. I know National Health has generally conceded New York to AmeriCare, but they could have had a change of mind. Causing AmeriCare a major PR disaster, which your series will be sooner or later, would undoubtedly be a boon to National Health. And as long as I'm thinking in this vein, any individual or group who wanted AmeriCare stock to tumble could be involved, because once your series hits the media, investors are going to turn away in droves."

"Good points!" Laurie conceded. "I really hadn't thought of either one of those ideas. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Jack took a long pull on his beer, drinking it directly from the bottle. Laurie sipped her sparkling water. The restaurant was awakening from its daytime slumber. A few more patrons were seated. A bar crowd had materialized, raising the noise level with excited chatter and bursts of laughter.

Noticing the break in Jack and Laurie's conversation, the waiter came over to ask if they'd like to order appetizers. After Laurie and Jack exchanged glances to see if either objected, they both nodded, which keyed off an impressive performance on the waiter's part. He rattled off a long list of appetizer specials, explaining each in painstaking detail. Despite the enticing recital, Laurie ordered an arugula salad, and Jack settled on calamari. Both were from the regular menu.