Blindsight

“Nobody’s cleaned in here yet,” Carl said as he followed Laurie through the door. Laurie noticed a musty, almost fishy smell as she entered the apartment.

Laurie surveyed the living room. An antique butler’s-style coffee table with only three legs lay at an odd angle. The fourth leg was on the floor just by it. Magazines and books were haphazardly scattered across the carpet; it looked as if they had been spilled when the leg was broken. A crystal lamp lay smashed between an end table and the couch. A large, old-master oil painting hung askew on the wall.

“A lot of damage,” Laurie said. In her mind’s eye she tried to imagine the kind of seizure that could have resulted in such breakage.

“That’s just the way it looked when I came in here last night,” Carl said.

Laurie started toward the kitchen. “Who found the bodies?” she said.

“I did,” Carl said.

Laurie was surprised. “What brought you in?”

“The night doorman called me,” Carl said.

Laurie was going to ask about him next. She hoped to speak to him, too, and said so. “Why did he call you?” she asked.

“He said another tenant had called him to report strange noises coming from 10F. The caller was worried that someone was hurt.”

“What did you do?” Laurie asked.

“I came up here and rang the bell,” Carl said. “I rang it several times. Then I used my passkey. That’s when I found the bodies.”

Laurie blinked. Her mind was mulling over this scenario, and something wasn’t making sense. She could remember reading an hour earlier in the investigator’s report that both bodies had significant rigor mortis, even the woman in the bedroom. That meant that they had to have been dead at least several hours.

“You said the tenant called down to the doorman because sounds were coming out of the apartment at that time? I mean at the same time he was calling.”

“I think so,” Carl said.

Laurie began to wonder how the other victims in her series had been found. Duncan Andrews and Julia Myerholtz had been found by their lovers. But what about the others? Laurie had never considered the question before now. Now that she thought about it, she did recognize one strange thing: all the victims had been found relatively quickly. Their bodies were discovered in a matter of hours whereas in many cases single people who unexpectedly died in their apartments weren’t found for days, sometimes only after the smell of decay had alerted neighbors.

The scene in the kitchen was all too familiar. The contents of the refrigerator had been strewn helter-skelter across the floor. The refrigerator door was still ajar. Laurie noticed that the smell of spoiled milk and rotting vegetables permeated the air.

“Someone is going to have to clean this up,” Carl said.

Laurie nodded. Leaving the kitchen, she looked into the bedroom. Again she started to feel incredibly sad. Seeing the apartment where these people had lived made them all the more real. It was easier to remain dispassionate down at the medical examiner’s office than it was in the deceased’s home. Laurie felt her eyes well with tears.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” Carl asked.

“I’d like to speak to that night doorman,” she said, pulling herself together.

“That’s easily arranged,” Carl said. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Laurie said, gazing around the apartment. “Maybe you shouldn’t let anyone clean this place up just yet. Let me talk to the police.”

“They were here last night too,” Carl said.

“I know,” Laurie said. “But I’m thinking of someone a little higher on the ladder in the homicide department.”

Downstairs Carl got the night doorman’s phone number for Laurie. The man’s name was Scott Maybrie. He even offered to allow Laurie the use of his phone if she wanted to call immediately.

“Wouldn’t he be asleep at this time?” Laurie asked.

“It won’t hurt him,” Carl insisted.

Carl’s tiny apartment was on the first floor and faced the street, in contrast to VanDeusen’s, which had faced out over the East River. Carl allowed Laurie to sit at his cluttered desk amid notes to plumbers and electricians. Being particularly helpful, Carl even dialed Scott’s number and handed Laurie the phone. As she’d feared, the man’s voice was hoarse with sleep when he answered.

Laurie identified herself and explained that Carl had suggested she call. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about the VanDeusen case,” she continued. “Did you see Mr.

VanDeusen or his girlfriend last night?”

“No, I didn’t,” Scott said.

“Carl told me that one of the other tenants called you about noises coming from the VanDeusen apartment. What time was that?”

“Around two-thirty, three o’clock,” Scott said.

“Which tenant called?” Laurie asked.

“I don’t know,” Scott admitted. “He didn’t say.”

“Was it one of the immediate neighbors?” Laurie suggested.

“I really don’t know. I didn’t recognize the voice, but that’s not unusual.”

“What did he say exactly?” Laurie asked.

“He said there were strange noises coming from 10F,” Scott said. “He was concerned someone might be hurt.”