“No, I’m a social worker at NYU Medical Center.”
“In a worst-case scenario, we may need you for identification purposes,” Johnson said. “As the nine-one-one caller and a friend of the apartment’s occupant, we have to ask you to stay. Maybe you should make a call to let people know you will be delayed.”
At that moment the door to 4A opened and a middle-aged, frizzy-haired, mildly overweight woman in a housedress appeared. Her expression was one of shocked disdain. “What’s going on?” she demanded.
“We’ve been called to check on your neighbor, ma’am,” Goodhouse said as he hooked his radio microphone back to its shoulder loop. “Have you seen her over the last couple of days?”
“No, not for several days,” the woman said. “I saw her Friday. Is she in trouble?”
“We hope not,” Goodhouse said. “Have you noticed anyone visiting lately, anybody at all?”
“No,” the woman said. “But she does have frequent late-night visitors, or she used to have them. But I don’t pay any attention. I got my own problems.”
“Thank you for your help,” Goodhouse said.
The woman eyed the people in her hall and then shut the door without another word.
“She’s a sweetheart,” Johnson said. “I’ll go down and wait for ESU to let them in the building.”
Madison was beside herself, wondering what to do. She wasn’t even sure who she should call. What made the situation worse was that the department was already in disarray because of Kera’s unexpected absence.
“How well do you know Miss Jacobsen?” Goodhouse asked. “It is ‘Miss,’ is it not?”
“She is unmarried,” Madison said. She thought it best if she called her immediate supervisor rather than the head of the department and took out her phone to make the call.
“I know her reasonably well,” she added as she pulled up the number in her contacts. “But, to be truthful, I hadn’t seen much of her for a few months.”
“Did you two have a falling-out?” he asked.
“Not to my knowledge,” Madison said. “She just became less available as far as I was concerned.”
“Any steady boyfriends that you knew of?”
“No,” she said without hesitation. “At least not here in New York. She had a steady boyfriend in LA, where she grew up, but they broke up before she came to New York.”
“Do you know if she was in contact with this former boyfriend?”
“I don’t think so,” Madison said. “But I don’t know for sure. What I do know is that he was the one to break off the relationship.”
At that moment the elevator door opened, and Johnson steppedout, accompanied by two additional uniformed police officers. Although their uniforms were blue, they were somewhat different from Johnson’s and Goodhouse’s, with less paraphernalia. They also hadESUemblazoned on their backs. Madison pressed against the wall of the hallway as they passed. These two new policemen were more obviously seasoned than Johnson and Goodhouse in both appearance and comport. The first one, a heavyset African American, was carrying a tool that Madison had never seen before. It was a weird-looking crowbar with a right-angled point and a narrow shovel-like extension at one end and a claw at the other.
Without the slightest hesitation, the officer stepped up to the door of 4B and with lightning speed popped the door open. Madison blinked at how easy the man made it seem. In the next instant a whiff of the putrid smell drifted out into the hallway while all four policemen disappeared into Kera’s apartment. She could hear them talking but couldn’t make anything out. She heard a window being opened, followed by an increase in the smell of decomposition. Madison felt a new wave of nausea spread over her, which she struggled to suppress.
A few minutes later the two ESU officers came out of the apartment. Neither spoke as they passed Madison, although they both acknowledged her with a nod. Madison didn’t respond. She felt numb. Although she still didn’t want to admit it, in her heart of hearts she knew what she was facing. Somehow it didn’t seem possible that someone she’d gotten to know and like, who was in the prime of her life, might actually be gone forever. For a time, she felt paralyzed and overwhelmed. She couldn’t even cry.
All at once she became aware of the phone still clutched in her hand. She needed to make the call to her supervisor, but before she could initiate the call, Johnson came out of the apartment. His expression told her what she didn’t want to hear.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that your friend is deceased,” he said,confirming Madison’s worst suspicions. “Did you know she was a drug user?”
“I had no idea,” Madison said. “Is that... what killed her?”
“Looks like an overdose, which we cops see too much of on a daily basis. It’s an ongoing tragedy.”
“Am I going to have to see her?” she asked, horrified at the idea and dreading it. She didn’t even like seeing dead rabbits on the side of the road, much less a dead human friend.
“We’re going to need identification,” Johnson said. “Normally we call EMS to come and pronounce, to be absolutely sure, but in a case like this where the victim’s been deceased for a couple of days, the lieutenant at the precinct had us call the medical examiner directly. Their investigator will be here shortly. The ME will certainly need an ID, and I understand your friend has no family in the area.”
“So, Iwillhave to see her,” Madison said reluctantly.
