A vacation? Dr. Rosen, you know I never
Im not suggesting one. I need someone to do a little snooping for me upstate.
Snooping. Sounds great. His slow, careful gait brought him to Jakes desk. Details?
Theres a mall being built in a town called Turner in Baxter County.
Where Dr. Harrigan lived! Ive visited him there.
Then you know it. Good. I think the malls a boondoggle, a scam to enrich town officials at citizens expense. The developer is R. Seward Reynolds, out of Albany, and if my guess is right, theres a payoff coming to the sheriff his names Fisk and maybe to Mayor Stevenson and to a woman named Crespy who runs the historical society. He paused. Wallys homely face was staring at him with the intensity of an acolyte.
Anyway, Jake went on, at least for the moment, my interest is in Fisk, not the others. I want you go up there, study the public records, see what you can find. Competitive bids if any, kickbacks, the sheriffs handprints on a project he has no business being linked to. That sort of thing.
Wally was taking notes. This is outside an MEs usual jurisdiction, he said. Does it have anything to do with Dr. Harrigan?
Only indirectly. Jake had decided to tell Wally nothing about his suspicions. He didnt want to upset his assistant before he was sure. When I saw him last, Pete told me he was positive there was fraud going on, and it really rankled. I told him Id look into it. He smiled. You are my eyes and ears.
Wally blushed. One more question: How does a man with a clubfoot go about snooping inconspicuously?
The question troubled Jake; he had thought about it. Make up an excuse for your being there. A research paper on the area. A study of mental hospitals. Whatever. If theres a hint of trouble, beat it back here.
Wally stood. When do I leave?
Jake looked at his watch. How about half an hour ago?
* * *
It was nearly six oclock in the morning when Manny finally pulled her Murphy bed out of the wall. Fully clothed, she lay down on top of her rose silk quilt to take a nap before she washed and dried her hair. For the first time, she appreciated the cocoonlike nature of her tiny studio. It felt protective. The tops of her white beech modular units were stacked with shoe boxes,
lots
of shoe boxes. Her kitchen a perfect size for take-out containers was behind a shoji screen. Manny had decided to live in the best building on Central Park South. The outside world, her adversaries, would see success in her address. And she would feel successful every time she walked through the lobby.
The rest of the apartment was impeccably decorated. No matter how small the project, do it right, her mother had told her. Her fax, printer, notebook, and flat-screen TV, in a neat row on the marble table across from her bed, composed her working area. Framed historical legal documents dotted the walls above the contemporary Italian-design sofa.
Still, nothing made her comfortable now; visions of Mrs. Alessis filled her head. At last, with Mycroft cuddled tightly in her arms, she drifted off.
After two hours of haunted sleep, Manny leaped out of bed. Eight oclock. No time for her hair; she had to walk Mycroft. She threw on her black Donna Karan microfiber dress and matching black boots with rubber soles so she could sprint the four blocks to her breakfast appointment. She was cold when she went outside with Mycroft, so back at her apartment she put on her black TSE cashmere swing coat and at the last moment, for color, added a hunter-green Etro fox-fur collar.
To look at me youd never know I spent last night with a corpse.
She reached Le Parker Meridien hotel only ten minutes late. A woman who had to be Patrice Lyons Perez was waiting in the lobby.
Oops. Wrong clothes. I should have dressed appropriately.
She had wanted to cheer her new client by taking her to a fancy breakfast at the Meridien, but now that she saw her perched on the edge of a squarish modern chair, she realized she hadnt done her a favor. Hollow-eyed and gaunt, clad in a long yellow polyester dress covered with pink roses, she seemed miserable and out of place. An old blue parka lay on the arm of the chair, and she looked around the lobby as though wanting to flee.
Manny put on a smile and extended her hand. Patrice. Im Philomena Manfreda. Its nice to meet you in person.
Patrice stood. The small hand she put in Mannys was limp and soft.
Like Play-Doh.
Hi, she said.
Thanks for coming all this way. Im so sorry Im late. Did you have any trouble getting to midtown from Queens?
Actually, Im not staying with my moms cousin. Im staying here.
Good grief. Does she know how much it costs?
At the Meridien?
Dr. Rosen fixed it up for me after I told him where we were meeting for breakfast. He paid for the room in advance.
Patrices teeth were bad, but her smile was so genuine and childlike it made Manny catch her breath.
He took care of everything, Patrice continued.
Nice of him, Manny said.
And not surprising. The man has his good qualities as well as his faults.
Hes a wonderful man.
I wouldnt go that far.
Are you hungry?
Very. All I had for dinner was a slice of pizza. It was the only thing I could find in this neighborhood that seemed . . . affordable. And it was still expensive, at least compared to home.
You shouldve ordered room service.
Oh, no, Patrice said gravely. That wouldnt be right. Im not a freeloader, Ms. Manfreda.
She followed Manny around the corner to a place that was classically Manhattan: counter stools, a pressed-tin ceiling, immigrant Greek owners. But the ambiance seemed lost on Patrice, who ordered a poached egg, plain white toast, and tea.
Manny had coffee. It was all she had ingested since dinner, and all she wanted. The smell of formaldehyde still lingered in her head.
Patrice retrieved a worn manila envelope from her bag and laid it down carefully, making sure the table was clear of spills. I didnt want to put these in the mail. Theyre letters from my dad. I told Dr. Rosen about them, and he thought they might help.
Theres an appealing eagerness here.
Manny was beginning to like her. When your father was at Turner, did he ever call you? Was he allowed to do that?
A few times, she said, but not very often. Not at all in the couple of months before he stopped writing.
When he did call, did he ever mention anything about friends he mightve had there? People he spent time with?
He told me stories sometimes, fun stuff about people going on vacations. But I think he made most of it up.
Do you remember anything about a girl in her late teens or early twenties?
Patrice bowed her head. Thats why Mom died heartbroken. She believed hed run off with another woman. She sat up straighter. But I dont.
Manny leaned forward. Patrice, there were other skeletons found with your fathers. Two were men. One was female, a young female.
She seems angry now. Why?
I want to find out about my father. I loved him and my mother. But he hurt us when he left. She turned her wrists upward, displaying healed, thin parallel scars.
A suicide attempt. Maybe more than one.
And I hurt Mom when I ran away from home. . . . She paused, evidently reliving the past. Dr. Rosen said that since four bodies were found, maybe it was an old graveyard.
He doesnt really think so. The bodies werent properly buried, just put in the ground. Its one of the facts that makes us wonder if the four were mistreated.
What do their families say?
We dont know. The other remains havent been identified yet.
How awful!
Please dont cry.
Do you think somebody will find out who they are?
Dr. Rosens working on it. In the meantime, Ill try to make sure that no remains are disposed of until theyre identified. The remains may be vital to our case, and I want to make sure to preserve them. Oh, and dont worry about the cost. I wont ask you to pay for anything unless we get a monetary award, in which case my firm gets one-third.
Patrice squinted at her.
Anger again, more overt.
I
knew
it, she said. I knew somebody like you wouldnt just
help
me. Im not after money. I just want to find out what happened to my dad.
I know. And I sympathize. But if we find out he was mistreated in the hospital, wouldnt you want to make whoevers responsible pay?
She thought about it. If somebody did something really wrong, could he still go to jail? Thatd be the way to make him pay, not by getting money from him.
Maybe. But after all this time, criminal behavior would be hard to prove, and the perpetrator might be dead. The only way to get satisfaction is to sue the government. It doesnt mean youre greedy. It just means you want to hold the system accountable. And maybe itll keep another family from suffering the way you have. Your father was a hero; he fought for his country. The circumstances of his death are important. I want both for you to have the truth and for the person who did this to be punished. The way to get at that person, dead or alive, is through a lawsuit. But I wont mislead you. Its going to be a tough fight.
It was a speech Manny had given many times before, and it had the virtue of being true. Justice, immediate or long delayed, had to be fought for, particularly if the victim was unable to fight for herself. The part of the settlement she received in Patrices case, assuming she won, would pay for the losing fights and broken hearts, including her own.
She watched relief flow into Patrices face.
Ive gotten through.
Do you remember your father ever telling you he was being treated with electroshock therapy?
Patrice gasped. No. Is that what killed him?
Might have. Dr. Rosen says its a possibility.
He died during his treatment? And they put him in the ground so nobody would know theyd screwed up?
Healthy anger now. Were allies.
I dont know, Manny said, squeezing Patrices hand. But together were going to find out.
KENNETH BOYD was standing on the sidewalk in front of Mannys office when she drove up. Dressed in his black velveteen jacket with a fuchsia and orange brocade silk lining, he looked ready to escort her to the opera rather than a day in court.
He slid into the passenger seat of the Porsche.
Who
was sitting in this seat, or perhaps I should ask
what
you were doing in it? With this much legroom, you either had a date with a basketball player or you
Manny laughed. Stop right there. Actually, the seat was occupied by Dr. Rosen.
The
Dr. Rosen? The traitorous, lying, moneygrubbing, amoral son of a bitch?
The very one. Do you want to know what I was up to?
Of course I do, girlfriend! Spit it out. That is, if its suitable for my delicate ears.
I was with a naked body.
I knew it! Shocking, but about time.
A
dead
naked body. I assisted Dr. Rigor Mortis, as you call him, at an autopsy. I was with him when he sliced open
No more! Kenneth shouted. Unsuitable! He stared at her. You gotta be careful who you consort with. I know you watch out for me, but remember, I watch out for you, too. He handed her the papers he had prepared for her. The petition.
She glanced through it. Youre a godsend. There isnt another paralegal who could have drafted this so quickly.
I can be buttered up day or night. But a petition to stop the state from burying bones? That message you left for me before you met with Perez was wacko, even for you.
Not really. The Baxter County judge agreed to hear my application to preserve the skeletons on an emergency basis. I called the lawyer for Baxter County and community hospital to tell him what Im doing, and hell be in court, kicking and screaming, to try to stop me. She started the car. By the way, youll have to get the passenger window replaced. Ill fill you in as we drive up to Turner.