Remains Silent mm-1

by Michael Baden

  Abbot, Cohen, Fronz, Giordano, Levine, McAuliffe, Murray, Pavlin, Rodgers, Snell, Tracy… He raised his head and threw down the pen. The truth hit him with the force a pilot feels when his plane breaks the sound barrier. He raced through the remaining pages, skipping U and V.

  There it was. Baby Joseph.

  Winnick.

  ***

  Manny had slept with her previous best lover, Mycroft. Kenneth had brought the precious poodle home from Rose’s, and their mutual delight with the reunion was expressed in an orgy of kisses, hugs, and exclamations of delight.

  Now, rested and healing nicely, she was determined to spend the day on her own work. She had the Martin settlement conference on her schedule this morning, and it couldn’t be adjourned. Kenneth had called early to make sure she wasn’t going to be late for court; he would bring the file in the car with him.

  The phone rang as she was going out the door.

  “Ms. Manfreda?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Lawrence Travis in the ME’s office. Dr. Rosen called from upstate. He wants to apologize for not calling you himself, but he’s at a crime scene where there’s no cell service. He needs to show you something important, and then he wants to take you to dinner. He wants you to meet him at Bellevue later- around six o’clock.”

  Manny would be finished with the Martin hearing by three; it would give her the rest of the afternoon to catch up.

  “No problem. In his office?”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Manfreda, could you repeat what you just said?”

  “Where does he want me to meet him? At his office?”

  “In the morgue. He says he’s found something relevant to the bones. I have no idea what he meant, but he said you’d understand.”

  “I sure do.”

  The morgue. How exciting.

  ***

  Dora and Joseph Winnick lived in a small but neatly kept and freshly painted two-story house on a modest farm in Hillsdale, New York, not forty miles from Albany. Jake had no trouble finding it, having been given precise driving instructions. He had called, told them his name, and was greeted with the honor accorded to the Queen of England. Wally’s boss? They had heard so much about him; Wally had never been so happy or so fulfilled. Dr. Rosen was welcome. On such short notice, would it be acceptable if they served a simple salad for lunch?

  It was more than acceptable, he had assured them, and arrived to find a platter of chicken, meats, and cheeses along with greens, radishes, mushrooms, cucumbers, spectacular bread, and a homemade apple pie, still warm from the oven.

  Wonderful people, Jake thought, touched by their generosity and warmth. No wonder Wally’s so kind, so giving. He spent much of the meal answering questions about himself; only when he had forced down a second portion of pie was he able to ask about Wally.

  “Joseph’s brother William- deceased now, alas- worked as a groundskeeper at Turner Hospital,” Dora said. She was a birdlike creature in her late seventies with a face, skin, and stance as testaments to a life lived mainly outdoors. “Joseph and I couldn’t have children of our own. One day a Dr. Ewing called- the dearest man- and asked if we were interested in adopting a newborn baby.”

  Joseph, tall, lean, and equally weathered, took his wife’s hand. “Seems William had mentioned our plight to Dr. Ewing. Warned us that the child had a physical defect, a clubfoot, but was sound of mind and heart. Would we like to visit the hospital and see him?”

  Dora’s eyes sparkled at the memory. “He had the sweetest face! Couldn’t have been a month old, but he waved his little hands at us, as though to say hello, and I picked him up, and- well, he just seemed to fit.”

  “We didn’t care about the clubfoot, and even if we did, we didn’t have the money to fix it,” Joseph said, continuing the narrative seamlessly, as though the two had rehearsed it. “We knew the boy’d have some problems, but is there a human being in the world who doesn’t?”

  Dora looked at Jake, almost daring him to disagree. “It made us cherish him all the more. He got teased at school something awful- made him a loner, I think- leastways he didn’t have many friends when he was little and no girlfriends in high school, but he was always so good-natured, so uncomplaining, that we didn’t really worry about him.”

  It was Joseph’s turn. “It was his brains saved him. Wally could read by the time he was five, and I don’t think he’s stopped reading since. But he was at loose ends when he finished Columbia Medical School. I think he wanted to get even farther away from people, so he went out to Santa Fe and worked there with kids less fortunate than he.”

  With children more handicapped than he was.

  “Then he got enough gumption to come back to New York City,” Dora said. “Think how brave that was. Not only to come back but to practice medicine in a city environment, surrounded by other health-care professionals.”

  Brave indeed. “Did you ever locate his birth parents?”

  “My goodness, yes!” Dora exclaimed, as though the question surprised her. “His birth father, that is. The mother died in childbirth.”

  Jake held his breath. “What was his name?”

  “Why, Peter Harrigan. Didn’t Dr. Harrigan tell you Wally was adopted?”

  “He did, only he didn’t tell me he was the father.”

  “Strange,” Joseph said. “Pete was right fond of the boy. Maybe he was afraid you’d tell Wally.”

  Pete? “Then you knew Dr. Harrigan personally?”

  “Of course! He was Wally’s teacher when Wally came to New York. He contacted us then but made us promise not to tell Wally who he was until he had passed his class. Pete had married and had a daughter. He didn’t want his new family to know about his past life, or Wally to know he was his father’s pupil. He’s the one who told us about Wally’s birth mother. He loved her, he said, and, as I say, she died in childbirth before they could be married. He and Wally got along real well. They didn’t see each other all that often, but when Pete came, he and Wally’d have these long talks about medicine and about life. And of course he got him the job with you. Said you were his best friend.”

  I was. We had those same talks. Pete must have found the Winnicks the same way I did. And his lie was a gentle one. Jake felt a catch in his throat. The emotion he had held in abeyance since his arrival threatened to overflow, and he asked his hosts to direct him to the bathroom, where he washed his face and stood with his hands on the sink until he had mastered his feelings. Ewing kept his promise; there’s humanity even in monsters. And Pete- Pete was a good man. At least he tried to make up for his sins in the only way he could- through Wally. He’s served his penance. I can love him again, even if I can’t forgive him for the experiments at Turner.

  He returned to the dining area. Dora had cleared the dishes; Joseph had stepped outside for a cigarette but reentered when he saw Jake.

  “I’m afraid I’ve terrible news,” he told them gently. “Pete’s dead.”

  “No!” Dora covered her mouth with her apron. “When? And why didn’t Wally tell us?”

  “Two weeks ago. Pete had cancer, and maybe Wally didn’t want to upset you.”

  “Did Dr. Harrigan suffer?” Joseph asked.

  “Only at the end. I saw him just before he died. We talked about Wally.”

  “God rest his soul,” Dora whispered. “Thank you for telling us.”

  Jake shook Joseph’s hand and kissed Dora. “And thank you,” he said as he left, “for being such good parents.”

  ***

  It was after two. Jake called Manny. Kenneth picked up and told him the Martin hearing was lasting longer than expected and he wasn’t sure what time she’d get back. “But she’s definitely coming in. You wouldn’t believe the pileup of papers.”

  “As a matter of fact, I would,” Jake said, thinking with horror about his own desk and what awaited him when Pederson gave him clearance to return.

  Should I tell Elizabeth about the child? Pete never told her. Why should I play messenger?
He sat in his car without starting the motor. Because she could be hurt by this professionally, if it’s revealed publically and she’s in the dark. Pete would have wanted me to take care of her. She’s Wally’s half sister, but she’s Pete’s daughter, first. He called her office. She hadn’t come in today, a woman with the voice of a drill sergeant told him. In fact, she hadn’t been in all week. Ever since her husband had been hurt in an automobile accident.

  Good. It’ll be easier to talk to her at home.

  The Markis house, fronted by a circular driveway cut through immaculate grass, looked as much like feudal England as twenty-first-century New Jersey. Jake had never been here before; Elizabeth had been living far more modestly when he dated her. Now he registered only that it seemed far too grand to be inhabited by anyone he knew except the mayor, an impression verified by a marble foyer, circular stairs leading to the heavens, and a butler in uniform who asked him if he was expected.

  “No,” said Jake, who had purposely not heralded his arrival, fearing she would not let him come, “but this is an emergency. I’m Jacob Rosen, a friend of her late father’s and medical examiner for New York City.”

  This last seemed to work, for the butler gave a little bow and went upstairs. Soon Elizabeth appeared, dressed in a simple black sheath. Manny would know the designer. “Jake,” she said, her tone frosty. “This is a surprise.”

  “I’m sorry to intrude. Truly. But I’ve found out things about your father you ought to know.”

  “About his death? I told you I’m not-”

  “About his life. His early life.”

  She sighed. “I can’t spare much time. Daniel is hurt, you know.”

  “Your office told me. An automobile accident?”

  “Yes. A truck exploded on the Jersey Turnpike. He got caught in the blast. A broken rib, cuts and bruises- he can hardly walk- and the noise temporarily deafened him. He still can’t hear.”

  “I’m so sorry. Do you want me to take a look at him?”

  She glanced at him scornfully. “We have our own doctor. Why don’t we go into the library? It’s comfortable there.”

  He followed her through heavy oak doors into a room that seemed to Jake larger than the reading rooms of most New York branch libraries, where they sat facing each other in two identical wing chairs.

  “Did your father say anything to you when you visited him before he died?” Jake asked. “Anything he hadn’t told you before?”

  She hesitated. “No. Why?”

  “Because when I saw him I thought he wanted to confess to me.”

  “Confess what?”

  “I didn’t know. It’s what prompted my question to you.”

  “He only told me he was dying of cancer.”

  I’ll bet that’s not all.

  Her eyes were steely, suspicious. “Yes. Mom told us. Her name was Isabella. She was a nurse at a hospital where he worked in upstate New York.”

  “Turner.”

  “That’s right. Died of pneumonia, Dad said.”

  “Did you know Pete and Isabella had a child?”

  Her head snapped back. “A child?”

  “Yes, a boy. Congratulations. You have a brother- a halfbrother.”

  Her expression grew fearful. I wonder why. “The boy’s alive?”

  “The man’s alive, very much so.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. He works for me. Would you like to meet him?”

  “He- he works for you?”

  “Yes. He’s a doctor. His name’s Dr. Walter Winnick- Winnick’s the name of his adoptive parents. Pete recommended him to me, and I took him on. He’s loyal and hard-working. Invaluable.”

  She bit her lip so hard it turned white, but she met his eyes. “I’d love to meet him. Maybe after the Monmouth case is closed, and after the elections.”

  “That would be fine. You intend to run for governor?”

  “I don’t know. The feelers are out. It’s a question of fundraising.”

  “Good luck, Elizabeth. I mean that sincerely.”

  “Thanks. Is that all you have to tell me?”

  “For the moment. Whatever else can wait.”

  She stood. “Then-”

  The door behind them opened. Elizabeth wheeled, her face red with fury. “Not now!” she shouted.

  Too late. Jake had turned also. Daniel Markis was at the door, and Jake got a good look at him. His face was unblemished, his stance upright. He was dressed in slacks and a sports shirt. Can hardly walk? I’ve never seen a man beat it so fast in all my life. Markis isn’t bedridden, but he may be deaf; Elizabeth had to shout. He faced her. She cowered. All right. Gloves off. He grabbed her arm.

  “Let go!” she screamed. “What are you doing?”

  “Making you listen. When you see your half brother, Elizabeth, don’t be too upset. He has a clubfoot, you see. When you give a pregnant woman mescaline, deformities to the fetus are inevitable. Pete didn’t tell you the whole truth. She wasn’t a nurse, she was a patient. And she didn’t die of pneumonia. She died of mescaline poisoning. And your father was involved with the program that administered it.”

  She screamed again, the sound reverberating through the room. He heard a car door open and close, the sound of tires on gravel. If you set off a claymore mine from behind, the unidirectional balls don’t hit you but the blast’ll damage the auditory nerve. That’s what happened to Markis! He raced past Elizabeth, pushed aside the butler who appeared in the doorway, and dashed to his car. Markis was that “woman.” Elizabeth must have known. My God.

  He called Manny’s office from the car.

  “Ms. Manfreda’s office.”

  Shit. Kenneth. “Where’s Manny?”

  “She came back from court early and left half an hour ago. Went to do some shopping- she says her clothes are rags- and then she was going to meet you, as requested, at the morgue. Another romantic rendezvous among the corpses, I gathered. She was so excited about her afternoon- she could make the trunk shows at Bergdorf’s- she left her cell phone on her desk.”

  “Me? What are you talking about?”

  “She said someone from your office called and told her to meet you at Bellevue, in the morgue, later this afternoon. Said you’d found something and wanted to show it to her there.”

  Jake felt cold fear settle in the pit of his stomach.

  A MAN IN A hospital coat came up to her in the Bellevue lobby, wearing a Secret Service-type transmitter in his ear. “Ms. Manfreda?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Lawrence Travis. Dr. Rosen asked me to escort you to the morgue. He’s in an urgent meeting he couldn’t avoid, but he’ll meet you as soon as he’s finished.”

  He’s probably with Pederson, deciding his fate. “I can find the morgue easily enough. No need to come with me.”

  “It’s no trouble. It’s the old morgue, a creepy place. I promise you’ll be grateful for the company.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

  They took the elevator to the basement, where he led her down a cheerless, brightly lit corridor until they came to a door. She shivered. “It’s cold down here.”

  “It’ll be warmer inside,” Travis said. He opened the door. Manny saw a wall of numbered silver metal boxes, four boxes high and about fifteen rows wide.

  A gurney holding a corpse stood in front of them.

  “This is where we keep the bodies until the funeral director picks them up or they go to potter’s field,” Travis explained as they entered. “We refrigerate the bodies that have to remain here for a while. They’re on trays in the drawers at the back. One body per tray, about half of them in use at any one time, unless there’s been a disaster and the corpses pile up.”

  He’s enjoying himself. Creepy is right.

  “All unidentified and unclaimed bodies in Manhattan end up here before going to Hart Island for burial. Can’t recognize most of them- they’re too decayed. Many are old people who’ve outlived their friends
and relatives. The police have a Missing Persons Bureau office in the back there, next to the old autopsy room. It’s hardly ever manned, though.”

  “The old autopsy room? Is that where Dr. Rosen wants to meet me?” He didn’t answer her. She asked again.

  “I guess so. He just told me the old morgue.”

  “Since there’s an old one, there must be a new one. Why wouldn’t he meet me there?”

  Travis shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him. This used to be the ME morgue, but now they’re across the street in their own building, where Dr. Rosen works.”

  Suspicion leeched into her brain. “Have you been working for Dr. Rosen a long time?”

  “No, ma’am. Three-four weeks is all. I heard him give a lecture on blood splatter and decided he was the person I wanted to be transferred to.”

  Manny’s ears tingled. “A lecture on what?”

  “Blood splatter.”

  Blood splatter. Jake’s laughed a dozen times at laymen who make that mistake: “Splatter is a sound, not the description of blood evidence. Spatter is the word for evidence.“ This man’s never been to Jake’s lecture. This man’s not with the ME’s office. She turned to face him, fear whipping at her like a cold wind. She looked intently at his feet. Through his paper booties she could see lizard boots. It’s the same person who attacked me outside my office! “I warned you, Ms. Manfreda, not to continue your investigation.”

  She had felt his breath before- at Turner. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “Daniel Markis.” His voice was unnaturally loud.

  “Elizabeth’s husband!” Manny understood. Jake had told her Markis was in Elizabeth’s thrall, so much in her shadow he was practically invisible. She must have sent him to Turner; he was the “cleaning lady” outside her office. “Jake says you’re a high school football coach.”

  “What?”

  She raised her voice. “A high school coach.”

  He grinned. “Among other things. Mostly, I work for my wife.”