Robin Cook - Vector

“Did you ever meet Flash Thomas?” Jack asked.

Laurie shook her head. “Not that I recall.”

“He’s another one of the basketball regulars,” Jack explained. “His sister suddenly and inexplicably died sometime last night.”

“How awful,” Laurie said. “Did they want you to look into it?”

Jack nodded. “It’s quite a story. Do you want to hear it?”

“I’d love to,” Laurie said. “But first maybe I’ll take you up on the offer of something to drink. I’d love a glass of water.”

While Jack went into the kitchen, he started telling the story of his afternoon. Laurie settled back and was instantly entertained. When she heard about Randolph Sanders’s antics, she was indignant. “The nerve of sending the body out!” she said with emotion. “After you went to the effort of going all the way out there.”

Jack shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t all that surprised. In my estimation, he’s always had a chip on his shoulder towards us Manhattan MEs.”

“I think he feels as if he’s been unfairly passed over either as the Brooklyn chief or the deputy chief over here,” Laurie said.

“He’s been passed over, all right, but for good reason,” Jack added.

When Jack got to the part about forcing his way into the funeral home to get the body fluid samples from Connie Davydov, Laurie found herself laughing so hard, she choked on her water.

Jack went on to tell Laurie about all the possible causes of death he’d come up with. He ended by admitting that Peter Letterman had found nothing; all the assays were negative, even the stomach contents.

“Interesting,” Laurie said while she pondered all the points Jack had raised. “Too bad you couldn’t have done a quick autopsy.”

“I was lucky to get the skin sample,” Jack said. “But what specifically would you have been looking for, other than the usual?”

“The EMTs specifically said she was cyanotic?” Laurie questioned.

“Yup,” Jack said. “And they found low arterial oxygen when she got to the hospital to confirm it. That’s why I thought the culprit was some drug that had depressed her respiration. I was so sure that when Peter reported he’d come up with zilch, I was stunned.”

“I would have liked to make sure she didn’t have a congenital right-to-left shunt that had reopened.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Jack said.

“Well, it would explain the clinical situation.”

“Any other ideas?” Jack asked. “Does any particular kind of poison or drug overdose come to mind?”

“If Peter didn’t find anything in her stomach contents, I can’t imagine what it could be,” Laurie said. “But did you consider methemoglobinemia?”

“No, but isn’t that rather rare?” Methemoglobinemia was a condition where the hemoglobin was rendered incapable of carrying oxygen.

“Well, you’re asking me for something that causes cyanosis,” Laurie said. “You should at least consider the nitrates and nitrites which can cause methemoglobinemia. Even the sulfonamides.”

“But wouldn’t that only be with someone who was congenitally susceptible?” Jack asked.

“Probably in relation to the sulfonamides,” Laurie said. “But not necessarily with the nitrates and nitrites. Still, if you want to be complete, you have to consider it.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Jack said. “I’ll ask Peter to assay for them in the morning. Anything else?”

Laurie thought for a few more minutes, but then shook her head.

“There’s one more twist to this story,” Jack said. He then went on to tell Laurie about the rat die-off in the same Brooklyn neighborhood where Connie Davydov had lived.

“Do you think there’s an association?”

Jack shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, but it is a curious coincidence.” He told Laurie that Connie apparently lived in an old cottage in an enclave of similar buildings. He mentioned his idea about the plumbing being primitive.

“Seems like a far-fetched connection to me. If something deadly leaked up from the sewer, why would it only be in one house?”

“You got me,” Jack admitted. “But let’s go on to my other mystery.” Next, Jack told Laurie about Ted’s further analysis of the tiny glittering star. “It’s as if the star were made of flypaper and dropped into a bowl of anthrax spores.”

“Why is it that you get all the interesting cases?” Laurie teased.

“Come on!” Jack said. “I’m serious. Can you explain it? Remember, I cultured all around the star, including the blotter it was sitting on and the desk itself. The PCR test is so sensitive it can detect as little as just a few spores. Everything was clean.”

“You’ve stumped me again,” Laurie said. She glanced at her watch. “Wow! It’s after midnight, and I’m keeping us both up.” She got to her feet.

“Are you going to be okay?” Jack asked. “You’re welcome to stay here. You can have the bed. Half the time I fall asleep out here on the couch anyway.”

“Thanks for the offer,” Laurie said. “You’ve been very hospitable, but I really should go home. I don’t have clothes for tomorrow or anything else.”

“It’s your call,” Jack said. “You’re more than welcome. But if you do go, at least promise me you’ll give me a buzz when you get home. It’s late to be wandering around even your neighborhood.”

“Will do,” Laurie said. She gave Jack a sustained hug.

Jack accompanied Laurie down the stairs and walked her to the corner. It was much easier to catch a cab on Central Park West.

As Laurie rode downtown she thought about the evening. She was thankful for Jack’s hospitality and friendship. Talking with him — even just about work — had calmed her down considerably and provided her with some perspective. What had disturbed her most about the episode with Paul was her inability to have a dialogue with him. She didn’t think of herself as being so rigid that she couldn’t agree to disagree on certain points, although that didn’t include his possibly selling illegal weapons But if she and Paul couldn’t communicate, then Laurie saw no future for the relationship irrespective of their apparent day-to-day compatibility.

By the time Laurie got to her own street, her thoughts had turned to the case Jack had told her about, and she smiled anew about his experience in the funeral home. She hoped he’d not get into trouble for it or for the visit to the Brooklyn ME’s office. She was well aware that Harold Bingham and Calvin Washington had little patience for Jack s maverick methods despite their appreciation of his intelligence and competence

As Laurie undid the myriad locks on her door, her neighbor’s door creaked open. As per usual, Laurie caught a fleeting glimpse of Debra Engler’s frizzy gray hair and bloodshot eye. Debra saw fit to remind Laurie of the lateness of the hour.

Laurie didn’t respond. Her neighbor’s nosiness at any hour of the day or night was the only thing Laurie couldn’t stand about her living arrangement. She slammed her apartment door in protest and redid all the locks. She’d been directly rude to the woman on several occasion and had even told her to mind her own business, all without success.

Laurie petted Tom-2 and took off her coat in that order. Her affectionate Burmese was insistent and would have climbed up her leg if she tried to execute the two moves in reverse order. She even had to put the purring cat on her lap while she phoned Jack.

“Are you still awake?” Laurie questioned when Jack answered with a sleepy-sounding voice.

“Mostly,” Jack answered.

“I’m checking in, as requested,” Laurie said. “I’m home safe.”

“I wish you’d stayed,” Jack said.