Робин Кук - Genesis

“Twenty-Third and Second,” she said.

“ D’accord ,” the driver said agreeably.

She sat back and redid her seat belt. The reason she had suddenly changed her destination was that she felt she was on a roll from having spoken with Madison. Even though it was rather late, a little after nine, she thought it wasn’t too late to see if she could also talk with Kera Jacobsen’s possibly nosy neighbor, Evelyn Mabry. Short of Kera having another close friend with whom she might have shared information about a secret lover, which Madison said she didn’t have, the neighbor might be the only person who could confirm the possibility. Despite the hour, Aria thought it was worth the chance.

After paying the fare in cash since she’d been burned before using a credit card in a taxi, Aria climbed out and looked up at the building. It was a nondescript six-story brick structure almost identical to its immediate neighbors on both sides. The only difference was a bit of architectural detail framing the double front door. To Aria’s encouragement the four windows on the right side of the fourth floor were illuminated, suggesting that Evelyn Mabry was home and hopefully not in bed.

Wasting no time since it was now almost 9:30, Aria entered through the building’s outer door into the foyer to confront the clustered mailboxes. It took her a moment to find the box for 4A. When she did, she immediately pressed the buzzer. Hoping for the best, she waited. After several minutes of silence, she was about to press it again when the speaker crackled to life.

“Who is it?” a disembodied voice said in a less-than-friendly tone. “It’s almost ten o’clock at night!”

“My name is Dr. Aria Nichols,” she said, going up on her tiptoes to get closer to the speaker in hopes of being heard. “I’m a medical examiner from the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner here in New York. I’m sorry for the late hour, but I need to speak with you right away about the death of Kera Jacobsen.”

Silence reigned for what seemed like a discouraging length of time. Finally, Aria said: “Evelyn Mabry. Do I have to call the police to become involved here? This needn’t take but fifteen minutes of your time.”

“What kind of name is Aria?” Evelyn questioned.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Aria said. She slapped a hand to her forehead in frustration. It never failed that dealing with the public was such a damn pain in the ass. It was the reason she couldn’t stand patients.

“Are you a man or a woman?” Evelyn said.

“A woman, last time I checked,” Aria said with annoyance.

“Why do you need to talk to me again? I already talked to the investigator and the police.”

“An autopsy was done today, which raised additional questions that we feel only you may be able to answer.”

A raucous buzz suddenly filled the foyer to announce that the inner door had been unlocked electronically. Aria lunged for the door lest she miss being able to pass through. With a sense of relief, she was inside and able to summon the elevator. As she rose up, she was reminded of not being fond of old elevators, especially small ones like the one she was in. It repeatedly clunked against the walls of the shaft as if it was just freely dangling on its cable. She was relieved when she was able to exit on the fourth floor.

As she walked down to ring the bell for 4A she tried to breathe shallowly. The corridor smelled like a century’s worth of grilled onions. After ringing the doorbell, she again had to wait longer than she would have expected.

“Who is it?” a muffled female voice demanded through the door. Without the electronic interference of the PA system downstairs, Aria could hear a strong Brooklyn accent. Although Aria was tempted to say something sarcastic, she controlled herself and merely repeated her name. Looking at the peephole at eye level, she detected a subtle movement, suggesting Evelyn was giving her the once-over. Aria was tempted to wave or make an impatient gesture, but she restrained herself and did nothing. Being this close to speaking with the woman in person, she didn’t want to ruin her chances. Nor did she want the woman to ask her to provide some official identification, which was a worry that had suddenly popped into her mind as the seconds ticked by.

Finally, it was apparent that Aria had passed muster as there was the sound of multiple locks and chains being undone. The door opened three or four inches but with a remaining chain in place. There was also a bloodshot eye and part of a nose visible. Aria didn’t move or say anything, allowing Evelyn to inspect her further. Twenty or so seconds later, the door closed again, the final chain was removed, and the door reopened significantly wider. Aria got a partial view inside and it was apparent the woman was a hoarder as David Goldberg had described. She could see the room beyond was completely filled with all sorts of junk, including a vast number of cardboard boxes of varying sizes, dozens of old suitcases, and stacks upon stacks of newspapers and magazines. There was even a grocery cart that was overflowing with old clothes among the mounds of clutter. There was so much stuff that no normal furniture could be seen, and only a narrow path passed through it all.

“What do you want to ask me?” Evelyn said. She was wearing an aged housecoat. Her hair was in curlers covered by a clear plastic shower cap, and some kind of light-colored cream covered her face save around her eyes, giving her a racoon look. She made no move to invite Aria to come inside, which didn’t bother her in the slightest. The smell wafting out of the apartment was worse than what was in the hallway.

“We need to know more about the late-night visitors to Miss Jacobsen’s apartment,” Aria said. “You told the medical-legal investigator, Mr. Goldberg, that you heard people arrive and leave, usually during weeknights. Is that fair to say?”

“That’s what I told him,” Evelyn agreed. “But over the last month or so it had stopped. Thank God.”

“Was this one person or a group that showed up?”

“I think it was one person,” Evelyn said.

“You also said that you didn’t know if it was a man or a woman.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, that troubles me,” Aria said. “I notice that your peephole here in your door looks out into the hall directly toward Miss Jacobsen’s door. Are you trying to tell me you never looked out when you heard this late-night visitor arrive or leave? That’s a little hard to believe.”

“I might have looked out once or twice,” Evelyn said defensively. “But only when the visitor arrived. I’m in bed by ten sharp every night.”

“And when you did look out on these rare occasions when the visitor arrived, was it a man or woman you saw?”

“It was usually a man.”

“Usually or always? Remember, I don’t want to have to get the police involved, but I will if I think you are not cooperating.”

“It was a man.”

“Would you guess it was the same man each time? The light here in the hall is bright enough for you to have an idea.”

“I think it was the same man. It always looked like the same hat and coat. It was a camel coat. My husband, God rest his soul, had one like it.”

“That’s very helpful, Evelyn,” Aria said. “How about the hat? How would you describe it?”

“It was just a hat, a man’s hat.”

“Was it like a baseball hat or a dress hat?”

“A dress hat, I guess. My husband never wore a hat.”

“One last question, Evelyn, and I would like you to think before you answer. Would you recognize this man if you saw him on the street? Did you ever see his face or at least his profile?”

Evelyn blinked a few times, giving Aria the feeling that she was thinking or trying to think. Aria didn’t interrupt whatever process was going on.