“Sometimes I think you are the most irritatingly arcane person I know. But let me add another reason why people will fight you tooth and nail about alternative medicine: Alternative medicine doesn’t seem scary. If you say a handful of people die every year from going to an alternative-medicine therapist, they won’t blink an eye. Thousands upon thousands more people die who go only to conventional medical doctors than the people who go to a chiropractor. In fact, people who go to chiropractors want to believe in chiropractic specifically because they don’t want to go to conventional doctors, where they might get a diagnosis that will involve discomfort and pain and possibly death. At the chiropractor, that never happens. Everything is optimistic, every complaint can be treated, and it doesn’t hurt, and even if it is placebo, who cares?”

There was another period of silence until Jack said, “You’re right!”

“Thank you. Now let’s get back to our respective work, because we’re on city time. And one last thing, keep the forensic tips coming, because this last one on Sam Parkman was right on target.”

“But isn’t there going to be a problem with the Parkman case about the blood being circumstantial evidence? I mean, there’s no way to prove when the wife’s blood got on the shirt. The defense can argue it was a month ago or a year ago.”

“That’s not going to be a problem. The cheerleader girlfriend is singing at the top of her lungs, trying to avoid being considered an accomplice. The DA is very happy and considers the case a slam dunk.”

After Jack hung up the phone, he sat unmoving for a time. What little wind he’d had remaining in the sails of his alternative-medicine crusade was gone. Again, he felt discouraged. He took all his notes and dumped them back into the large envelope. Then, instead of returning it to his center drawer, he opened his bottom drawer containing the framed photo of Laurie and JJ, and tossed it in. He then kicked the drawer shut.

Prepared to get down to real work, Jack reached for his inbox with the intention of lifting out the material onto his blotter to begin to sort it. But his hand never made it. His phone’s jangle again pierced the room’s stillness. Sure it would be Lou with another thought about the alternative-medicine issue, Jack answered the phone as informally as he did earlier. But the caller wasn’t Lou. It was perhaps one of the last people in the world Jack expected to hear from.

Chapter 16

16

11:30 A.M., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2008
NEW YORK CITY

Dr. Jack Stapleton, I presume!” The clear, mellifluous tenor voice came over the receiver like a breath of fresh air. It was somehow familiar to Jack, and his brain desperately scanned though its auditory memory bank.