“How depressed?” Raymond asked.

“Depressed enough to attempt suicide on two occasions,” Daniel said. “And they weren’t just childish bids for attention. They were bona fide attempts, and the only reason she’s still with us is because she was discovered almost immediately and because she’d tried drugs the first time and hanging herself the second. If she’d had a gun she surely would have succeeded.”

Raymond groaned out loud.

“What’s the matter?” Daniel asked.

“All suicides are medical examiner cases,” Raymond said.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Daniel said.

“This is the kind of loose end I was referring to,” Raymond said. “Damn! Just our luck!”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings,” Daniel said.

“It’s not your fault,” Raymond said. “The important thing is that we recognize it for what it is, and that we understand we can’t sit idly by and wait for catastrophe.”

“I don’t think we have much choice,” Daniel said.

“What about Vincent Dominick?” Raymond said. “He’s helped us once and with his own child ill, he has a vested interest in our program’s future.”

Dr. Daniel Levitz stared at Raymond. “Are you suggesting… ?”

Raymond didn’t reply.

“This is where I draw the line,” Daniel said. He stood up. “I’m sorry, but I have a waiting-room full of patients.”

“Couldn’t you call Mr. Dominick and just ask?” Raymond said. He felt a wave of desperation wash over him.

“Absolutely not,” Daniel said. “I might take care of a number of criminally connected individuals, but I certainly don’t get involved with their business.”

“But you helped with Franconi,” Raymond complained.

“Franconi was a corpse on ice at the medical examiner’s office,” Daniel said.

“Then give me Mr. Dominick’s phone number,” Raymond said. “I’ll call him myself. And I’ll need the Carlsons’ address.”

“Ask my receptionist,” Daniel said. “Just tell her you’re a personal friend.”

“Thank you,” Raymond said.

“But just remember,” Daniel said. “I deserve and want the percentages that are due to me regardless of what happens between you and Vinnie Dominick.”

At first the receptionist was reluctant to give Raymond the phone number and the addresses, but after a quick call to her boss, she relented. Wordlessly, she copied the information onto the back of one of Dr. Daniel Levitz’s business cards and handed it to Raymond.

Raymond wasted no time getting back to his apartment on Sixty-fourth Street. As he came through the door, Darlene asked how the meeting with the doctor had gone.

“Don’t ask,” Raymond said curtly. He went into his paneled study, closed the door, and sat down at his desk. Nervously, he dialed the phone. In his mind’s eye, he could see Cindy Carlson either scrounging around in the medicine cabinet for her mother’s sleeping pills or hanging out in the local hardware store buying a length of rope.

“Yeah, what is it?” a voice said on the other end of the line.

“I’d like to speak to Mr. Vincent Dominick,” Raymond said with as much authority as he could muster. He detested the necessity to deal with the likes of these people, but he had little choice. Seven years of intense labor and commitment were on the line, not to mention his entire future.