Mrs. Wiggins worked at a file cabinet on the right side of the morgue. Taylor took the seat at the carrel.
“Are you turning my morgue into your office?”
“I’m sorry. I need to work somewhere. Till I’m fired, at least.”
“Mind how you go.” She pulled her glasses off. “They don’t really care what I’m up to down here. I like it that way. Did you hear? Susan Hayward died.”
“That’s Marmelli’s problem now. There’s nothing he likes better than picking through wire copy on dead celebs.”
A sly smile. “Just thought you’d want to keep up.”
“I’m dealing with the dead one at a time from now on. Whatever happens.”
Taylor called Harry Jansen’s pay phone again and finally got a break, if a small one. Jansen believed Voichek would show at Joshua Harper’s memorial service the next day. Taylor would definitely attend. Laura walked into the room as he was hanging up. His face warmed.
“Hey, how are you?” His voice was too loud.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Fine. I’m fine.”
“That’s good.”
“Good. We’re both fine.”
Stupid. Stupid. Why do I sound so stupid? At least Laura came down to see me. Now, how to make sure I don’t blow the whole thing?
“Were you able to get to Bellevue?”
“Yes. Quirk is pissed off at you.”
He chuckled. “Why?”
“He’s in a load of shit, of course. For not trying hard enough to ID the kid.”
“Just what that chucklehead deserves. I didn’t bring that down on him. His incompetence did.”
“Maybe, but I agreed with him. About you, that is. He was pleased to hear it. I think he believed helping me might somehow hurt your career.”
“What career?”
“I left that part out. He started in by telling me they never get female reporters in the morgue. Made that obvious by leering. I sat quite demurely, sounded appalled at all his horrifying coroner talk, and crossed and re-crossed my legs a few times.”
“I didn’t think women’s libbers went in for that approach.” He looked at her legs.
“Are you kidding?” She crossed them and smiled. “I want this story as much as you do. So, what do you do in a man’s world? Use a man’s weakness against him.”
“What would Katherine Graham say?”
“That she’s got boys out getting her stories for her. Now, do you want the headlines or not?”
“By all means.”
“Declan ingested barbiturates,” Laura said. “Maybe enough to kill him. Certainly more than you’d take for medicinal or recreational purposes. It put him out a good long time. For now, they’re sticking with exposure as cause of death.”
Taylor nodded at this news. “He was knocked out by an overdose. That means someone soaked him down and dumped him outside. He was unconscious in sub-zero weather. Someone was trying to hide the murder as an accidental death.”
“Possible.” Laura gave the either way signal with her hand. “The police are still calling it a suspicious death. They want to call it murder. They need to call it murder. They can’t yet. They don’t know Declan didn’t take the pills himself.”
“No way,” Taylor said. “He was killed. Really great reporting.”
Laura flipped further back into her notebook. “I didn’t do so well with the Eli kids. They’ve got a cop posted at the school’s front door now. I waited, saw Carolyn Bancroft leave and tried to get her to stop. She waved me off and jumped into a chauffeured Town Car. I couldn’t find Reginald Morton and got nowhere with Dickie Bennett. At least he didn’t run away from me.”
“Was he still wearing that camera?”
“Sure. He said he told you everything he knows and had nothing to add. ‘Not one word.’ ”
Taylor frowned at this. “He told me nothing.”
“It was odd. He looked uncomfortable.”
“I’m sure he wants to talk about something. Doesn’t know how to start.”
“Took my card at least.”
Taylor smiled. “The autopsy info alone is gold.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine—”
“No you won’t. Upstairs they’re talking about you like you’re already gone.” She nodded her head to the ceiling as if the newsroom were right on top of them. “Marmelli asked Worthless for a replacement.”
“That lazy bastard. Obits is hardly enough work for him. Look, Worth can chuck me out on my ass. He’s going to have to hire me back when we nail this story.”
He wanted her to have confidence. He wasn’t sure he did. The phone rang, and Mrs. Wiggins answered.
“Taylor, for you.”
“Worth’s tracked you down.” Laura stared at the phone like it might bite.
“He’s not that smart.” Taylor took the receiver. “Yes.”
“The man himself,” said Pickwick. “I see, working out of the newspaper’s morgue. How very poetical. Quite so.”
“How did you find me?”
“Please, I’m Pickwick. You did well with my tip. I don’t have a lot of time today. It’s a bit busy.”
“With what?”
“That would be telling. Why do you always ask the obvious? You should be asking the right questions. I must say I even surprised myself with this one. It’ll make you happy. Take down this address. Joanna Kazka, 67 Ontario Street in Albany.”
“Who’s that?”
“That’s the mother of Peter Pan’s little friend.”
“Tinker Bell?”
“Quite so.”
“How do I know—”
Dial tone. Goddammit.
Without explaining, Taylor sent Laura upstairs to the newsroom to get the Criss+Cross Directory for Albany. A reporter’s best friend, the directory was a reverse phone book that listed phone numbers by their street addresses. He dialed 67 Ontario and got the bartender at a place called Skipper’s Bar & Grill. Yes, a mother and daughter lived in an apartment above the bar. No, he didn’t know if they had a phone. No, he wouldn’t go upstairs and get the mother.