smile returned.
Laurie arched her eyebrows and shrugged. She was being provocative by suggesting that she didn't believe him, but she didn't care. "Fine and dandy, and now I have more work to do." She turned her attention back to the sheet with the Westchester phone number.
"No doubt," Jack said, refusing to rise to the bait or be dismissed. "How were your cases this morning?"
Laurie looked up but not at Jack. "One was routine and rather uninteresting. The other was disappointing."
"In what regard?"
"I'd promised a couple whose son died at the Manhattan General to find out what killed him and let them know immediately, but the autopsy was clean; there was no gross pathology whatsoever. Now I've got to call and say we have to wait for the microscopic to be available. I know they are going to be disappointed, and I am, too."
"Janice briefed me on that case," Jack said. "You didn't find any emboli?"
"Nothing!"
"And the heart?"
Laurie looked back at Jack. "The heart, the lungs, and the great vessels were all completely normal."
"I'll wager you find something with the heart's conduction system or maybe micro emboli in the brainstem. You took adequate samples for toxicology? That would be my second thought."
"I did," Laurie said. "I'd also kept in mind he'd had anesthesia less than twenty-four hours ago."
"Well, sorry your cases were a letdown. Mine were the opposite. In fact, I'd have to say they were fun."
"Fun?"
"Truly! Both turned out to be the absolute opposite of what everybody thought."
"How so?"
"The first case was this well-known psychologist."
"Sara Cromwell."
"Supposedly, it was a brutal murder during a sexual assault."
"I saw the knife, remember?"
"That was what threw everybody for a loop. You see there was no other wound, and she hadn't been raped."
"How could all the blood that was described come from that single, nonfatal stab wound?"
"It didn't."
Jack stared at Laurie with a slight smile of anticipation. Laurie stared back. She was in no mood to play games. "So where did it come from?"
"Any ideas?"
"Why don't you just tell me?"
"I think you'd be able to guess if you thought about it for a minute. I mean, you did look at how gaunt she was, didn't you?"
"Jack, if you want to tell me, tell me. Otherwise, I have to make my call."
"The blood was from her stomach. It turns out there was a fatal engorgement of food, causing a rupture of her stomach and the lower part of her esophagus. Obviously, the woman had bulimia, and pushed herself over the edge. Can you believe it? Everybody was convinced it was homicide and it turns out to be accidental."
"What about the knife sticking out of her thigh?"
"That was the real teaser. It was self-inflicted, but not on purpose. In her final moments, while she was puking blood and putting away the cheese, she slipped on her own blood and fell on the knife she was holding. Isn't it too much? I tell you: This is going to be a good case to present at our Thursday conference."
For a moment, Laurie stared at Jack's satisfied face. The story had touched a chord in her inner life. There had been a time when she'd had self-esteem problems after her brother's death, causing her to have a brush with anorexia and bulimia. It was a secret she hadn't shared with anyone.
"And my next two cases were equally intriguing. It was a double suicide. Did you hear about it?"
"Vaguely," Laurie responded. She was still thinking about bulimia.
"I tell you, I have to give old Fontworth credit," Jack said. "I'd always considered him less than meticulous, but last night he seemed to have done a bang-up job. With the double suicide, he found a heavy Mag-Lite flashlight on the front seat of the SUV along with the victims and was smart enough to bring it with the bodies. He also noted the driver's-side door was ajar."
"What was important about the flashlight?" Laurie asked.
"Plenty," Jack replied. "First of all, let me say I was a bit suspicious when there was only one suicide note. In
Laurie arched her eyebrows and shrugged. She was being provocative by suggesting that she didn't believe him, but she didn't care. "Fine and dandy, and now I have more work to do." She turned her attention back to the sheet with the Westchester phone number.
"No doubt," Jack said, refusing to rise to the bait or be dismissed. "How were your cases this morning?"
Laurie looked up but not at Jack. "One was routine and rather uninteresting. The other was disappointing."
"In what regard?"
"I'd promised a couple whose son died at the Manhattan General to find out what killed him and let them know immediately, but the autopsy was clean; there was no gross pathology whatsoever. Now I've got to call and say we have to wait for the microscopic to be available. I know they are going to be disappointed, and I am, too."
"Janice briefed me on that case," Jack said. "You didn't find any emboli?"
"Nothing!"
"And the heart?"
Laurie looked back at Jack. "The heart, the lungs, and the great vessels were all completely normal."
"I'll wager you find something with the heart's conduction system or maybe micro emboli in the brainstem. You took adequate samples for toxicology? That would be my second thought."
"I did," Laurie said. "I'd also kept in mind he'd had anesthesia less than twenty-four hours ago."
"Well, sorry your cases were a letdown. Mine were the opposite. In fact, I'd have to say they were fun."
"Fun?"
"Truly! Both turned out to be the absolute opposite of what everybody thought."
"How so?"
"The first case was this well-known psychologist."
"Sara Cromwell."
"Supposedly, it was a brutal murder during a sexual assault."
"I saw the knife, remember?"
"That was what threw everybody for a loop. You see there was no other wound, and she hadn't been raped."
"How could all the blood that was described come from that single, nonfatal stab wound?"
"It didn't."
Jack stared at Laurie with a slight smile of anticipation. Laurie stared back. She was in no mood to play games. "So where did it come from?"
"Any ideas?"
"Why don't you just tell me?"
"I think you'd be able to guess if you thought about it for a minute. I mean, you did look at how gaunt she was, didn't you?"
"Jack, if you want to tell me, tell me. Otherwise, I have to make my call."
"The blood was from her stomach. It turns out there was a fatal engorgement of food, causing a rupture of her stomach and the lower part of her esophagus. Obviously, the woman had bulimia, and pushed herself over the edge. Can you believe it? Everybody was convinced it was homicide and it turns out to be accidental."
"What about the knife sticking out of her thigh?"
"That was the real teaser. It was self-inflicted, but not on purpose. In her final moments, while she was puking blood and putting away the cheese, she slipped on her own blood and fell on the knife she was holding. Isn't it too much? I tell you: This is going to be a good case to present at our Thursday conference."
For a moment, Laurie stared at Jack's satisfied face. The story had touched a chord in her inner life. There had been a time when she'd had self-esteem problems after her brother's death, causing her to have a brush with anorexia and bulimia. It was a secret she hadn't shared with anyone.
"And my next two cases were equally intriguing. It was a double suicide. Did you hear about it?"
"Vaguely," Laurie responded. She was still thinking about bulimia.
"I tell you, I have to give old Fontworth credit," Jack said. "I'd always considered him less than meticulous, but last night he seemed to have done a bang-up job. With the double suicide, he found a heavy Mag-Lite flashlight on the front seat of the SUV along with the victims and was smart enough to bring it with the bodies. He also noted the driver's-side door was ajar."
"What was important about the flashlight?" Laurie asked.
"Plenty," Jack replied. "First of all, let me say I was a bit suspicious when there was only one suicide note. In
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