Free Critical by Robin Cook Page B

early,” Vinnie added sarcastically and with seeming disrespect. In point of fact, there was enough mutual respect between Vinnie and Jack to allow for such teasing banter, and technically they were breaking the rules. By decree from Chief Bingham, autopsies were supposed to start at seven-thirty sharp, although they never did. Jack was always early, thanks in part to Vinnie’s willingness to cut short his coffee break while all the other medical examiners, including Laurie, were always late because Bingham or the deputy chief, Calvin Washington, were rarely there to enforce the edict.
    â€œThe supersleuth wants the super mortuary tech down in the pit,” Jack said to the back of Vinnie’s paper. Defiantly, Vinnie had gone back to his reading.
    Laurie asked Riva if she could do David Jeffries’s autopsy.
    â€œOf course,” Riva said. “But it’s going to be a busy day. You’ll have to take at least one more. Do you have a preference?”
    â€œSure,” Laurie said absently. She was back to rereading David Jeffries’s history.
    â€œCome on, Vinnie,” Jack called, leaning on his crutches at the doorway leading into the communications room. Vinnie had become reabsorbed in his paper.
    â€œI’m here!” a voice called out. “The day can now officially begin.”
    All eyes turned to the door leading out to the main part of the ID room. Even Vinnie, who was passive-aggressively avoiding Jack, lowered his paper to see who had arrived. It was Chet McGovern, Jack’s office mate. “Have you guys left anything mildly interesting? Hell, I’d have to camp here overnight to avoid getting your rejects.” After ditching his coat on an empty chair, he stepped behind Riva to paw through some of the folders. Jokingly, as if a schoolmarm, Riva hit his hand using a foot-long wooden ruler.
    â€œYou’re in a good mood, sport,” Jack said. “What’s the occasion? How come you’re here so early?”
    â€œI couldn’t sleep. I met a woman last night at my health club who’s an impressive businesswoman. I had the feeling she’s a CEO or something. I woke up this morning early, trying to figure out how to get her to go out with me.”
    â€œAsk her,” Laurie suggested.
    â€œOh, sure, in case I hadn’t thought of that.”
    â€œAnd she said no?”
    â€œSort of,” Chet said.
    â€œWell, ask her again,” Laurie said. “And be direct. Sometimes you men can be rather vague to protect your fragile egos.”
    Chet saluted, as if Laurie were his superior officer.
    â€œCome on! You lazy good-for-nothing,” Jack said after returning to where Vinnie was sitting and snatching his paper out of his hands. Vinnie scrambled after Jack, who managed to keep the newspaper away from Vinnie until they reached the clerical room beyond communication. There was a brief tug-of-war amid laughter.
    The battle for the newspaper over, Jack gave Vinnie the John Doe case file and asked him to put up the body, meaning prepare the body for the autopsy. Meanwhile, Jack stuck his head into Sergeant Murphy’s closetlike NYPD office. The aging, amiable cop looked up from his computer screen. He’d been assigned to the OCME forever. Jack was fond of the man, as was everyone else. Murphy was one of those rare individuals who managed to get along with everyone. Jack admired the trait and wished some of it could rub off on him. Over the years, he’d become progressively intolerant of perfunctory bureaucrats with mediocre administrative or professional skills, and he was unable to hide his feelings, as much as he tried. In his mind, there were too many such tenured people hiding out in the OCME.
    â€œHave you seen Detective Soldano?” Jack asked.
    â€œHe was here earlier but left to go down to the morgue,” Sergeant Murphy said.
    â€œDid he ask you about the unidentified floater that came in last