She listened to the sounds of the night. The crickets were out in full force, and she thought she heard an owl.
Creepy.
With you.
She followed him to the pathology lab, where he headed to a machine the size of a microwave and switched it on. Its for making frozen sections. Works in a matter of minutes. During surgery, for example, you use it to make sure youve removed enough of a cancerous organ. Normally, Id wait for the permanent slides made from the paraffin blocks, but that takes a couple of days and I want to look at this tonight.
Something was bothering him. His demeanor was grim, perplexed. Why?
I think the cause of death is related to the liver. Theres her jaundice, the fact that the livers wrinkled and underweight a thousand grams instead of the normal twelve hundred fifty or so. But the only way to pinpoint the cause is to look at the liver under a microscope, and I want to do it before we leave. Jake inserted the liver section in the machine.
I guess I still dont understand. Struck by his manner, she realized there were to be no more jokes. Why do her kids feel so strongly about an autopsy? Do they think she was killed?
First off, he said, the next of kin can request a private autopsy, even if the authorities dont think its necessary.
That doesnt answer the question.
Actually, I doubt if Mrs. Alessiss children would have thought of it if she hadnt been smitten with my brother, Sam. He talked me up to her; she told her kids about my work. Voilr.
The machine beeped. He carefully cut a thin sliver of tissue from the frozen block of liver tissue, as though it were deli meat. This is called a microtome blade, he explained. Its very sharp. Ill put the tissue section on a slide, add some dye, put a cover slip over it, and its ready to go. He inserted the slide under the microscope and adjusted the focus. After a minute he stood, that same troubled expression in his eyes. Here. Take a look for yourself.
Im fine right where I am.
Dont be a baby, youve been through an autopsy. This is just a slide. Besides, I may need you as a corroborating witness.
That did it. She felt a surge of excitement, even pleasure, and put her eye to the microscope. What am I looking for?
You see those pink pie-shaped areas? Theyre called the liver lobules. Normally, under this stain each cell nucleus is blue, surrounded by pink cytoplasm.
But some of them
Are a mess. His voice was hoarse. He was pacing now, clearly fighting to keep his emotions under control. You can see where the nuclei have been destroyed. Its dead tissue, what we call necrotic. Because its in the center of the liver, we refer to this kind of damage as centrilobular necrosis.
And what does it mean?
It means, he said, that Mrs. Alessis was poisoned.
IT TOOK HER until they had once again gone outside and he had changed into civilian clothes for her to adjust to the shock. Murder was as much her territory as his, and its presence focused her mind.
What was the poison? she asked.
Probably carbon tetrachloride. There arent many that could cause this particular harm to the liver.
You mean the cleaning agent?
Youve heard of it?
It was once used by dry cleaners. There were lawsuits by families of people who died from inhaling its fumes, so it was banned.
Exactly right, he said. Good for you.
The compliment made her absurdly pleased. And you really think Mrs. Alessis died from it?
Jake took a sip of the coffee he had bought from a hallway vending machine on his way out and poured the rest on the ground. Its a clever method. You have to be able to get close enough to give it surreptitiously. The victim doesnt die until a couple of days later. And since the compound itself can no longer be detected through toxicology tests in the body after three days, no ones really hunting a killer.
Could this have been an accident?
He shrugged. Unlikely, but of course possible. We should go to her apartment to see if she has older cleaning products there containing the poison.
You want to go
now
?
Absolutely. I told her family Id want to look at the place where she died, and now theres an urgent reason. Whats wrong? Are you tired?
Strangely, she wasnt. She rejected a sarcastic answer. Why should I be tired?
Jake smiled at her; Manny got the feeling it was genuine. Youre a trouper, he said.
* * *
Baby, darling, honey, sweetheart, Manny called, approaching the Porsche. She opened the door. Mycroft shied away, whimpering. Dont be afraid. Its Mommy. She turned to Jake. What have you done to my dog?
He held out his hands, palms up. Nothing. I swear.
Then why is he acting like this? She made kissy noises. Mycroft leaped from the car and hid under it.
I cant imagine.
The odor of her jacket wafted up. Oh, Jesus, she said. I smell like death.
Then Mycroft must be an unusual animal. Dogs usually like clothing thats been in the autopsy room.
What? Why?
They think it smells like food.
That, she said, is the most disgusting thing Ive ever heard.
But its true. Its not you hes scared of
I should say not!
The idea!
its somebody or something else.
They peered into the dark. Manny turned on the headlights. The bushes in front of the car were indented, as though someone had fled through them.
* * *
Theresa Alessis had lived in the basement apartment of a two-family house on a run-down street three blocks from downtown Turner. The upper floors were vacant; a sign out front said 2 APTS 4 RENT. Manny didnt imagine thered be many takers. Even in the dark she could see that the paint was flaking and the front lawn overgrown.
Are you sure this is okay? she asked, as they crept their way down the uneven concrete stairs that led to Mrs. Alessiss front entrance.
Yes. Why are you whispering?
Because its three oclock in the bloody morning.
Jake fumbled with a flowerpot outside the door and produced a key. Right where her son said it would be.
He unlocked the door, reached in, and groped for a switch. The lights blazed on, as startling as a scream in the darkness.
The small apartment was shabby but neat. An ornate cross Manny recognized as Greek Orthodox dominated the wall over the couch, and a china cupboard contained what appeared to be a large collection of sewing thimbles.
My grandparents were tailors, Manny said, touched. These thimbles make me feel a certain kinship with Mrs. Alessis. Even a responsibility.
A coincidence, Jake said. My grandparents were tailors, too. He didnt add that, as union members, they had been beaten nearly to death because they belonged to the ILGWU.
Maybe its fate that were in this together. . . .
Oh!
Jake came to her side. What is it?
Manny lifted a photograph of Theresa from a doily-covered end table. The beaming woman stood next to a young lady in a graduation gown. It seems so odd to see her alive. She glanced at him for a reaction. That probably sounds stupid to you.
Not at all, he said, without irony.
I just . . . I had such an intimate look at her, and I dont even know her. It seems wrong, somehow. And here I am, looking through her things. . . .
To find the reason for her death. Were investigating what looks to be a murder. If we solve it, thats the best thing we can do for her children.
Put so bluntly, it wiped away sentiment. Youre right. I dont know what Im talking about. Sometimes I get sappy when Im overtired. She took a deep breath. So what are we looking for?
To begin with, any cleaning products containing carbon tetrachloride she might have breathed in or swallowed.
Ill start with the bathroom.
It was right off the living room. Jake watched as she bent down to investigate the cabinet under the sink, granting him a view of an alluring tush.
Tantalizing.
There was no other word for it. He felt an unfamiliar quickening of desire.
Whoa.
She straightened.
Looks pretty good standing up, too.
He moved to the kitchen to conduct his own search.
Ive found something, she called, not masking her excitement.
A bottle with a skull and crossbones marked DANGER: CARBON TETRACHLORIDE?
She came into the kitchen, carrying a bottle. This. Our Mrs. Alessis kept it hidden next to the Ajax.
Jake was accustomed to surprises and good at maintaining outward calm. But this time he gasped.
Do you have any idea how much this stuff costs? she asked.
He knew precisely how much. It was a fifth of Johnnie Walker Blue.
It belonged to Pete Harrigan, he told her, recalling his friends pleasure at the gift. Elizabeth must have told Mrs. Alessis she could have it. Its great stuff. I should know. Im the one who gave it to him. Jake stared down at the floor.
Yuck!
He looked at her. She had unscrewed the top and was holding the bottle away from her.
Whats wrong?
This scotch has gone bad. Its rancid.
Nonsense. Scotch is scotch. It doesnt turn the way wine does.
She handed him the bottle. He sniffed it. Son of a bitch! His hand trembled as he set it on the table. You just found our poison.
Manny sat down heavily. Good lord! She examined the bottle. Wait a minute. Why would anybody drink something that smelled like this?
Because it didnt. Theresa Alessis died yesterday. That means she drank from the bottle two or three days ago. The carbon tetrachloride has been building up in the headspace ever since. But if you opened the bottle often enough and let the gas escape, you might not notice the odor. Only about an inch is left. What she drank was enough to kill her.
He doesnt know Im in the room, Manny realized. The look in his eyes said his brain was running at full speed, and he frowned with a concentration she had not seen before, even during the autopsy.
Handsome. Almost beautiful.
What are you thinking? she asked.
He was startled into awareness of her. Im thinking about the color of Pete Harrigans eyes.
JAKE DIDNT WANT to waste a moment. Weve got to get to Harrigans cottage, he said. Grab your keys.
But youve already been there, I thought. You were there just last week.
Yes, to clear out the study and get rid of the furniture. This time were looking for something different. He grabbed her wrist and started out the door.
She shook her arm free but kept up with his pace. Fatigue, excitement, bewilderment, and foreboding created a volatile cocktail in her stomach. You think he was poisoned, dont you?