Robin Cook - Blindsight

“As in Mafia?” Dorothy asked with horrified disbelief.

“Absolutely,” Jordan said. “God is my witness. Honest-to-goodness mobsters. In fact just this month I’ve been seeing a Paul Cerino, who is obviously connected to the underworld over in Queens.”

Laurie choked on her white wine at Jordan ’s mention of Paul Cerino’s name. Hearing it for the second time that day startled her. The conversation stopped as everyone looked at her with concern. She waved off their attention and managed to say she was all right. Once she could speak again, she asked Jordan what he was treating Paul Cerino for.

“Acid burns in his eyes,” Jordan said. “Someone had thrown acid into his face. Luckily he had been smart enough to rinse his eyes with water almost immediately.”

“Acid! How dreadful,” Dorothy said.

“It’s not as bad as alkali. Alkali can eat right through the cornea.”

“Sounds ghastly,” Dorothy said.

“How are Cerino’s eyes doing?” Laurie asked. She was thinking of Frank DePasquale’s right eye, wondering if that could be the beginning of the break that Lou had been hoping for.

“The acid opacified both corneas,” Jordan said. “But the fact that he washed his eyes out saved the conjunctiva from extensive damage. So he should do well with corneal transplants which we’ll be doing soon.”

“Does it frighten you to be involved with these people?” one guest asked.

“Not at all,” Jordan said. “They need me. I’m of use to them. They wouldn’t harm me. In fact I find it all rather comical and entertaining.”

“How do you know this Cerino is a mobster?” one of the other guests asked.

Jordan gave a short laugh. “It’s pretty apparent. He comes in with several bodyguards who have obvious telltale bulges in their suits.”

“Paul Cerino is a known mobster,” Laurie said. “He’s one of the midlevel bosses of the Vaccarro crime family, which is currently warring with the Lucia organization.”

“How do you know that?” Dorothy asked.

“This morning I autopsied a gangland-style execution victim. The authorities believe the murder was a direct result of the feud, and they would like nothing better than to associate the killing with Paul Cerino.”

“How hideous!” Dorothy said with disdain. “Laurie, that’s enough! Let’s talk about something else.”

“This isn’t appropriate dinner conversation,” Sheldon agreed. Then, turning to Jordan, he added: “You’ll have to excuse my daughter. Since she abandoned her medical education and went into pathology, she’s somewhat lost her sense of etiquette.”

“Pathology?” Jordan questioned. He looked over at Laurie. “You didn’t tell me you are a pathologist.”

“You didn’t ask me,” Laurie said. She smiled to herself, knowing that Jordan had been too busy talking about his own affairs to have asked about hers. “Actually I’m a forensic pathologist currently working for the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner here in New York.”

“Maybe we should talk about this season at Lincoln Center,” Dorothy suggested.

“I don’t know much about forensics,” Jordan said. “We only had two lectures on it in medical school and before them we were told that the material would not be on the exam. So guess what I did?” Jordan pretended to fall asleep by snoring and allowing his head to drop onto his chest.

Sheldon laughed at Jordan ’s antics. “We only had one lecture and I cut it,” he confessed.

“I think we should change the subject,” Dorothy said.

“The problem with Laurie,” Sheldon said to Jordan, “was that she didn’t go into surgery, where she could have been dealing with the living. We have a gal in the thoracic program who’s unbelievable, as good as a man. Laurie could have done equally as well.”

It took every ounce of self-restraint Laurie possessed not to lash out at her father’s inane, sexist remark. Instead, she calmly defended her specialty. “Forensics very much deals with the living, and it does it by speaking for the dead.” She told the story of the curling iron and how knowledge of the cause of that fatality could potentially save someone else’s life.

When Laurie finished, there was an uncomfortable pause. Everyone looked down at their place settings and toyed with their flatware. Even Jordan seemed strangely subdued. Finally Dorothy broke the silence by announcing that dessert and cognac would be served in the living room.

By the time the group had reassembled in the living room, Laurie was uncomfortable enough to consider leaving. As she watched the others fall effortlessly into conversations, she debated taking her mother aside and making the excuse that it was a “school night.” But before she could decide, a discreet maid hired for the evening appeared at Laurie’s side with her serving tray filled with brandy snifters. Accepting a cognac, Laurie turned her back on the group. With drink in hand, she slipped down the hall and into the den.

“Mind if I join you?” Jordan had followed her from the living room.

“Not at all,” Laurie said, mildly startled. She thought her exit had not been noticed. She tried to smile. She sat in a leather club chair while Jordan leaned comfortably against a massive rear-projection TV. Sounds of laughter drifted in from the living room.

“I didn’t mean to make fun of your specialty,” he said. “I actually find pathology fascinating.”

“Oh?” Laurie said.

“I enjoyed the story about the curling iron,” he added. “I had no idea you could get electrocuted with such an appliance unless you dropped it in the tub while you were taking a bath.”

“You might have said so at the time.” She knew she wasn’t being polite, but she wasn’t feeling particularly hospitable just then.

Jordan nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I felt a little inhibited by your parents. It’s pretty obvious they are not wild about your specialty choice.”

“Is it that obvious?” Laurie asked.

“Indeed,” Jordan said. “I couldn’t believe your father’s remark about that woman in their thoracic program. And your mother kept trying to change the subject of the conversation.”

“You should have heard my mother’s comment the day I told her I was going into forensics. She said: “What will I tell people at the club who ask me what you do?’ That gives you a pretty good idea of her feelings. And my father, the quintessential cardiac surgeon! He thinks that anything other than surgery, specifically thoracic surgery, is for the weak, the timid, and the retarded.”

“Not an easy pair to please. It must be hard on you.”

“Frankly, I’ve caused them some heartache through the years. I was a pretty rebellious kid: dating rough types, riding motorcycles, staying out late, the usual. Maybe I trained my parents to be wary of everything I do. They’ve never been particularly supportive. In fact they’ve kind of ignored me, especially my father.”

“Your father certainly speaks highly of you now,” Jordan said. “Practically every time I run into him in the surgical lounge.”

“Well, it’s news to me,” Laurie said.

“Anybody want more cognac?” Sheldon called. He’d stuck his head into the den, waving the bottle of cognac.

Jordan said no. Laurie merely shook her head. Sheldon told them to give a yell if they changed their minds. Then he left them.

“Enough,” said Laurie. “This is much too serious a conversation. I didn’t mean to put a damper on the evening.” She actually was sorry she’d revealed so much to Jordan. It wasn’t like her to confide in a relative stranger this way, similar to what she’d done with Lou Soldano. But she’d been feeling vulnerable all day, ever since she’d been assigned Duncan Andrews.