Blindsight

Hanging up the phone, Laurie pondered the thought of calling Bingham. Believing it would be an exercise in futility at best, and might get her fired at worst, she gave up the idea. He clearly stated that he intended to do nothing, at least not until he spoke with the commissioner of health.

Laurie’s eyes moved from the phone to the open newspaper. Slowly the idea of leaking the story herself began to occur to her. She’d had a bad experience with giving her opinion to Bob Talbot the last time, but in all fairness to him, she’d not specifically said her remarks were confidential.

With that thought in mind, she got out her address book to see if she had his number. She did, and she gave him a call.

“Well, well,” he said when he heard it was Laurie. “I was afraid I was never going to hear from you again. I didn’t know what else to do beyond apologizing.”

“I overreacted,” Laurie admitted. “I’m sorry I never got back to you. It was just that I got an awful chewing out by the chief over your story.”

“I apologize again,” Bob said. “What’s up?”

“This might surprise you,” Laurie said, “but I may have a story for you, a big story.”

“I’m all ears,” Bob said.

“I don’t want to talk on the phone,” Laurie said.

“Fine by me,” Bob said. “How about I buy you dinner?”

“You’re on,” Laurie said.

They met at P. J. Clark’s on the corner of Fifty-fifth and Third. They were lucky to get a table on a rainy Sunday evening, especially one by the far wall where they could talk above the usual hubbub. After a clear-eyed Irish waiter took their order and slid two brimming draughts in front of them, Laurie began.

“First, I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing talking to you. But I’m desperate. I feel I have to do something.”

Bob nodded.

“I want you to promise me you will not use my name.”

“Scout’s honor,” Bob said, holding up two fingers. Then he took out a note pad and a pencil.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Laurie said. She was hesitant at first, but once she began explaining recent events, she warmed up a bit. She began with Duncan Andrews and her first suspicions and took him through to the double death of George VanDeusen and Carol Palmer. She emphasized that all the victims were single, educated, successful people with no hint of drug use or illegal activity in their pasts. She also mentioned the pressure brought to bear on the medical examiner to keep a lid on the Duncan Andrews case in particular.

“In a way it’s too bad he was the first. I think part of the reason Bingham keeps rejecting my series theory is because the series began with him.”

“This is unbelievable,” Bob said when Laurie had to pause with the arrival of their food. “I haven’t seen anything about this in the media at all. Nothing. Zip.”

“There was a mention of the double death in this morning’s Times,” Laurie said. “But it was in the second section. It got barely a squib. But you’re right, there’s been no mention of the other cases.”

“What a scoop,” Bob marveled. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll have to move on it if I’m going to make tomorrow morning’s paper.”

“But there’s more,” Laurie said. She went on to tell him that the cocaine involved was coming from one source, was probably contaminated with a trace of a very lethal compound on top of being extremely potent, and was probably being distributed by a single pusher who somehow came in contact with upscale young people.

“Well, that’s not exactly true,” Laurie corrected herself. “It might be two people. On most of the cases that I’ve investigated, two men have been seen going into the victim’s apartment.”

“I wonder why two?” Bob asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Laurie admitted. “There are a lot of mysteries about this whole affair.”

“Is that it?” Bob questioned. He was eager to leave. He hadn’t even touched his food.

“No, that’s not all,” Laurie said. “I’ve begun to get the feeling that these deaths are not accidental, that they are deliberate. In other words they are homicides.”

“This keeps getting better and better,” Bob said.

“All of the bodies were found shortly after death,” Laurie said. “That in itself is unusual. Single people who die alone are usually not found for days. In all the cases I’ve investigated, a phone call led to the discovery of the body. In two cases the victims called their significant other beforehand. In all the others, an anonymous tenant in the victim’s building called the doorman to complain about strange sounds emanating from the victim’s apartment. But here’s the catch: based on medical evidence, these complaints about noise came several hours after the time of death.”

“My God!” Bob said. He looked up at Laurie. “What about the police?” he asked. “Why haven’t they gotten involved in all this?”

“Nobody buys my series theory. The police aren’t the least suspicious. They consider these cases to be simple drug overdoses.”

“And what about Dr. Harold Bingham? What has he done?”