Robin Cook - Blindsight

“Mr. Cerino…” Jordan said in a conciliatory tone, but Paul cut him off.

“I think I’ve made myself clear, Doc. I’m counting on you not to go blabbing anymore. Am I right?”

Jordan nodded. His hands were trembling.

“Now, Doc, I don’t mean to make you nervous. I want you in nothing but good shape. ’Cause that’s what you’re going to put me in: good shape. I was very pleased when your nurse called this morning to say I could come in for my operation.”

“I’m glad, too,” Jordan said, trying to regain some of his professionalism and composure. “You’re lucky your chance came up so quickly. The waiting period has been much shorter than usual.”

“Not short enough for me,” Paul said. “In my line of work you have to have all your senses and then some. There are any number of sharks who’d love to put me out to pasture or worse. So let’s get it over with.”

“Fine by me,” Jordan said nervously. He laid Cerino’s record on the lens stand. Straddling a small wheeled stool, he pushed up to Cerino’s ophthalmic examination chair. Swinging around the slit lamp, he motioned for Cerino to put his chin on the chin rest.

Reaching below with a trembling hand, Jordan switched on the slit lamp. As he did so he got a whiff of garlic from Cerino’s breath.

“I understand you’ve been doing more surgery than usual lately,” Paul said.

“That’s true,” Jordan replied.

“As a businessman myself I would imagine you’d like to do as much surgery as possible,” Cerino said. “I imagine that’s where the big bucks are.”

“That’s also true,” Jordan said. He moved the slit lamp’s beam so that it fell across Cerino’s badly scarred cornea.

“I have some ideas about keeping your surgery up,” Cerino said. “Would that interest you?”

“Of course,” Jordan said.

“Fix me up first, Doc,” Cerino said. “If you do, we’ll remain friends. Then who knows? Maybe we can do some business.”

Jordan wasn’t certain he wanted to be friends with this guy, but he certainly didn’t want to be enemies. He had a feeling Paul Cerino’s enemies didn’t last too long. He was determined to do his best by Cerino. And he’d already made up his mind: he wouldn’t be sending the man a bill.

Laurie put down her pen and leaned back in her desk chair. She’d been struggling to keep her mind on her paperwork, but she wasn’t making much headway. Her thoughts kept drifting back to those drug overdoses. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t down in the autopsy room working on the two cases that had come in overnight.

She’d resisted the temptation to sneak down and watch as Fontworth went about his business. Calvin would have exploded if he’d seen her.

Laurie looked at her watch. She decided it was late enough to slip downstairs to see if Fontworth had turned up anything. No sooner had she stood up than Lou walked in.

“On your way out?” he asked.

Laurie sat back down. “It’s probably better if I don’t.”

“Yeah?” said Lou.

She could tell he wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

“It’s a long story,” Laurie said. “How are you doing? You look exhausted.”

“I am,” Lou admitted. “I’ve been up since three. And doing autopsies with people other than you is just plain work.”

“Are they finished?” Laurie asked.

“Hell, no,” Lou said. “I’m the one who’s finished. I couldn’t stand up any longer. But it will probably take the two doctors all day to finish the four cases plus the dog.”

“The dog?”

“Clipper,” Lou said. “At one of the homes the killer shot the dog as well as the man and the woman. But I’m only kidding. They’re not autopsying the dog.”

“Find out anything useful?” Laurie asked.

“I don’t know. The caliber of the bullets looks similar to the cases in Queens, but we’ll have to wait to hear what Ballistics says before we’re certain they’re from the same guns. And of course Ballistics is weeks behind.”

“No ideas yet?” Laurie asked.

Lou shook his head. “Afraid not. The Queens cases suggested a restaurant connection, but the two cases downstairs have nothing to do with the business. One guy was a big-shot banker who’d contributed heavily to the mayor’s campaign. The other is an executive for one of the big auction houses.”

“Still no organized-crime association?” Laurie asked.

“Nope,” Lou said. “But we’re still working on it. There’s no question that these were professional hits. I’ve got two more investigative teams on these two Manhattan cases.

Between the three teams in Queens and these two new ones, I’m running out of manpower. The only positive break so far is that the housekeeper at one of the homes is still alive. If she makes it, we’ll have our first witness.”

“I’d like to get a break with my series,” Laurie said. “If only one of these overdoses wouldn’t die. I wish I had some manpower to try to find the source of the coke that’s killing all these people.”

“You think it’s from a single source?”

“I know so,” Laurie said. She explained how Peter had determined it scientifically.

Just then Lou’s beeper sounded. Lou checked the number. “Speaking of manpower,” he said, “that’s one of my boys. May I use your phone?”

Laurie nodded.

“What is it, Norman?” Lou asked once he got through. Laurie was flattered that Lou put the call on speakerphone so she could hear.

“Probably nothing,” Norman said. “But I thought I’d tell you anyway. I’ve found one note of commonality in these three cases: a doctor.”

“Really?” Lou said. He rolled his eyes at Laurie. This wasn’t exactly the break he had been looking for. “That’s not the sort of association that’s going to be much help in this kind of murder case, Norman.”

“I know,” Norman said. “But it’s the only thing that’s turned up. Remember you told me that Steven Vivonetto and Janice Singleton were both terminal?”

“Yeah,” Lou said. “Was one of the Kaufmans terminally ill too?”

“No, but Henriette Kaufman had a medical condition she was being treated for. And she was seeing the same doctor that Steven Vivonetto and Janice Singleton were seeing.

Of course, Steven and Janice were seeing about a dozen doctors. But there was one doctor who was seeing all three.”

“What kind of a doctor?” Lou asked.

“An eye doctor,” Norman said. “His name is Jordan Scheffield.”

Lou blinked. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. He glanced at Laurie. Her eyes registered equal surprise.

“How did you find this out?” Lou asked.

“Just by accident,” Norman replied. “After you told me about Steven and Janice being terminal, I looked into everybody’s health. I didn’t even realize the connection until I got back to my office and started going over all the material that had been coming in. Do you think it’s important?”

“I don’t know,” Lou said. “It’s certainly weird.”

“You want me to follow up on it in any way?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to follow up. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you. Meanwhile keep the investigation going.”

Lou hung up the phone. “Well, it’s a real small world. Either that or that boyfriend of yours really gets around.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Laurie said irritably.

“I’m sorry,” Lou said. “I forgot. Your male acquaintance who happens to be a friend.”

“You know, the night that Marsha Schulman disappeared, Jordan told me that his office had been broken into. Someone had gone through his records.”

“Some had been stolen?” Lou asked.

“No,” Laurie said. “Apparently some had been copied. I had him check Cerino’s record; it was one of the ones that had been disturbed.”