Eyes Wide Open

“You said you’d look into it,” I said, kind of desperate.

“I said I might look into it. And for the record, I did.”

“You did?” That took me by surprise. “And you didn’t find anything?”

“Tying Walter Zorn to your nephew? No. At least, not anything rational,” he said, sinking back in his chair. “Nothing any sane person would respond to…”

“So try me. What did you find?”

Sherwood gave me another grudging smile. He rubbed his jaw. Not in discomfort; more in exasperation or dismay. “There were possible markings on the victim’s body that brought back something familiar

…”

“Familiar?”

“To something related to your nephew. Something we found on him. If you chose to look at it that way.”

“Now you’re kind of sounding like me,” I said, holding back a smile. “What kind of markings are we talking about? And familiar how? ”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you. It’s one of the details not released to the public yet.”

“For God’s sake, Sherwood, I’m a doctor. I think I understand about confidentiality. I’m not going to divulge anything.”

“Just like you didn’t to that reporter?”

“I know. I get it. I screwed up. Look, I’m sorry,” I said, imploring, “but this is about Evan, detective, not me…”

He looked at me a long time. Then he said, as if against his better instincts, “There were knife wounds…”

“Knife wounds? I thought the cause of death was strangulation?”

“Think of this as a kind of asterisk. And if that gets out, I’ll boot your ass back to Westchester so fast you won’t need a plane.”

“Knife wounds…,” I said, nodding that I got the message. “You said they were familiar. Familiar how?”

“You remember that plastic bag I handed back to your brother? With your nephew’s personal effects in it?”

I nodded. I thought back to what was in it. A few dollars, some loose change, a key chain…

Then it hit me. “ That plastic hologram…, ” I said. Our gazes met. “ An eye? The markings on Zorn resembled an eye!”

Sherwood shrugged without a change in his expression. “If you wanted to see it that way.”

“And how did you see it?” I stared back, suddenly feeling vindicated.

In his gray, noncommittal eyes, I could see the slightest giving in.

Sonovabitch… I felt a surge rush up in me. He’s beginning to have misgivings too!

“Look,” he said, pushing back, “I’m a coroner’s detective, not homicide. I don’t solve crimes any longer. I just see if they warrant an investigation. And this one is about as flimsy as it gets. Beyond flimsy! This Miguel Estrada kid says Zorn and your nephew were talking. You find something in your brother’s past that connects him and Zorn. Three decades ago. There are knife marks on the victim that kind of resemble something we found on your nephew. They’d laugh me out of the squad room.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I know. That’s my problem.”

“Can I see them?” I asked. “These knife marks.”

“Not in the cards.”

“I just thought it might help. To confirm what you thought you saw. So where were they?” I asked. “On the body?”

Sherwood picked up and tapped his pencil. “On the underside of the victim’s tongue.”

“Oh…” The feeling snaked through me that I had stepped in something bad. Houvnanian. His victims carved with symbols. Blood all over the walls. Zorn.

Charlie.

“You have to look into this, Sherwood.”

He pushed the articles back to me. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, doc.”

“Someone, maybe this woman, Susan Pollack, may have had something to do with Evan’s death.”

“There’s nothing tying her into anything, doc. Your nephew still went up on the rock. He jumped off. Or damn well fell while attempting to.” He looked at me unwaveringly.

“You told me no one would talk to me over at homicide. And maybe no one gives a shit about Evan,” I said, “but they damned well might give one about Zorn.”

“Look…” He glanced at his watch. “I got things to do. And you, you’re supposed to be on a plane. Right? ”

I looked back at him unwaveringly. “You really think I’m going anywhere until this is resolved?”

The detective stared at me a long time before he threw the pencil back on his desk and shook his head. “Anyone ever tell you, doc, you make it awfully hard for someone to like you?”

I shrugged. “My wife says it all the time.”

He stood up and grabbed his jacket. “Yeah, well your wife knows what she’s talking about on this one.”

I said I’d call him the next day. And the day after that. Until he looked into the possibility of what those cuts meant.

And until he checked out Susan Pollack.

“I know, I know…,” I said with a smile. “Don’t wait by the phone.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

K athy called when I got in the car. I had just pushed off a procedure on the daughter of a friend. Now I was pushing for a few days more. Her patience was running thin. Mine might have been too, if the situation was reversed.

“It’s time to come home, Jay.”

I didn’t answer for a second. I wasn’t exactly sure how to. “I can’t, Kath. I just can’t.”