For efficiency’s sake, he’d spread himself all around the one office, bunching similar tasks for different cases in the same location. He’d even arrogated Chet’s desk, where he’d set up his microscope for examining the histology slides. Taking advantage of the wheels on his desk chair, he moved from station to station.

“My God, I’m homeless,” a voice said, breaking the silence.

Jack glanced up to see Chet looking forlornly at his commandeered desk.

“Ah, the missing ME!” Jack said. “Talk about me going out in the field! Where on earth have you been? I haven’t seen you since early this morning.”

“I told you I was going to the pathology conference,” Chet said.

“You did?”

“Of course I did,” Chet said. “In the ID room this morning over coffee.”

“Sorry, I guess I forgot,” Jack said. He remembered being preoccupied about his planned apology to Laurie. “I’m kinda in a fog. A lot’s going on.”

“It looks like a cyclone hit this office.”

“I suppose it does,” Jack said. “Here, let me get my stuff off your desk.”

“Hey, not on my account,” Chet said. “I’ve just stopped in to pick up my briefcase. It’s got my exercise clothes. I’m heading over to the gym.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to move my junk?”

“Absolutely,” Chet said. He gingerly stepped over folders Jack had strategically placed around the floor. “You should have come to the conference. It was one of the best I’ve attended.”

“Really?” Jack questioned without interest. He’d turned his attention back to the prisoner-in-custody case, whose slides had appeared in a miraculously short time from the histology lab.

“The last seminar was particularly fantastic,” Chet continued. He pulled open the top drawer of his file cabinet and lifted out his briefcase. “It was on zoonoses. You know, diseases of animals that people can get.”

“I know what zoonoses are,” Jack said absently.

“What made it so good was that a number of city veterinarians were on the panel,” Chet said. “I was bowled over by the number of animal diseases which they’re constantly contending with. It’s incredible.”

“No kidding,” Jack said vaguely. He was trying to find the slides of David Jefferson’s brain, particularly the sections of the temporal lobe.

“And I’m not just talking about the ones you hear about in the media like rabies in raccoons. In fact, one of the guys said that just today there was a major die-off of sewer rats in Brooklyn way out in Brighton Beach.”

Jack’s head popped up. “What was that?”

“As usual, you’re not listening to me,” Chet complained.

“I just missed the last part.”

Chet repeated what he’d said about the rats.

“And this was in Brighton Beach?” Jack asked. He stared off.