Jack tried Shawn’s office number but got a busy signal. Foiled for the moment, he turned to locating all the material on the teenage shooting death in Central Park, where the hands had not been bagged by the tour doctor. Jack wanted to stay on Bingham’s good side, and one way was to sign out that case as soon as possible, as he had asked. Once Jack had the necessary information, he was able to complete the paperwork in less than twenty minutes and e-mail Bingham saying that he’d done so.

Trying Shawn again, he got through but instead of getting his old friend, he got Shawn’s secretary. It seemed that Shawn was out of the office but was due back shortly.

Jack decided not to wait. “Can you tell me when the museum closes?” he asked the secretary. “I think I’ll stop in and wait for him.”

“Nine p.m., but I’ll be leaving at four-thirty.”

“Would you take a message for him? Please tell him Dr. Jack Stapleton is coming in for a visit. I can’t make it before you leave, but I should be there before, say, four-forty-five.”

After hanging up, Jack took a few minutes to straighten up his very messy office. While he did so he located the paperwork and slides on the suicide case Lou had called about. He knew the DA would be looking for it. When he was finished, he grabbed his damp bomber jacket from behind the door and his bike helmet from atop the file cabinet and was out the door.

Chapter 18

18

4:21 P.M., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2008
NEW YORK CITY

The sky was clear and the sun near the western horizon when Jack emerged from the OCME and turned northward on First Avenue. The temperature had dropped to a bracing level, and his cheeks burned as he raced the traffic uptown.

At 81st Street he turned west, and soon had the Metropolitan Museum of Art directly before him.

With its tan, neoclassical façade brightly illuminated against the coal black of Central Park, the huge building momentarily took Jack’s breath away. As night had now fallen, the building looked like a jewel on a square of black velvet.

Jack checked his watch. It was exactly quarter to five. Hurrying forward and up the front steps, he entered the renowned museum, asking himself why he didn’t take advantage of its treasures. Somewhat guiltily, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been there.

The huge multistory lobby was filled with people. Jack had to wait at the large oval information booth in the center of the room to talk to one of the museum’s employees. When he asked for the location of Shawn Daughtry’s office, he was given a map with the route drawn with a marker.