Eye Sleuth (9 page)

“Anything else?” Riley asked.

I wasn’t going to mention the list I’d made but I changed my mind. Perhaps one of the detectives would say something helpful, so I took a chance and I described the three points I’d written down. Riley nodded as if he’d expected me to do something like that.

“We may never know,” Riley said. “We contacted the victim’s family but they weren’t all that forthcoming, for whatever reason. Remember, this is police business. If you find any clues, as you put it, you must get in touch with us immediately.” He leaned forward to emphasize his words.

“Detective Riley is correct, Dr. Kamimura,” Riley’s partner said gravely. “You must leave this matter in the hands of the police. It is our responsibility now, as is your safety. Your intrusion might jeopardize yourself and others as well as impede our activities.”

Good grief. Had the man swallowed a dictionary? I left but my feeling was very different from the way I’d felt after the first interview. Clearly, I was part of a process. Obviously, Riley was dedicated to his work and I could empathize with that. After this second, mercifully brief interview, I didn’t feel a suspect, just someone who had to be interviewed. Still, even though both detectives had told me to keep my nose out of their business, I was determined to do what I could to find some answers––it was my business, too. Riley and Zeissing were sworn to protect and serve and they might lay down the law but damned if I’d play the passive part of the hunted. Time for me to do some hunting. How, what and where I didn’t know, but I was fairly sure I wasn’t going to get any answers or help from the police.

Heading back to my office, I felt a lot better than I had before the interview.

“Are you going to join us at lunchtime, Yoko? ”

It was Matt Wahr, the college finance manager. He was in the hall outside Allan’s office and the IT specialist himself, Allan Barnes, stood in the doorway directly behind Matt.

“I’m ordering sandwiches. Want your usual?” Allan asked.

Allan’s current toy, a Bluetooth earpiece, was perched on his ear. Ever the techie, Allan had gone through a dizzying array of cell phones and other gadgets in his quest to keep up with the latest. He often had several of his latest toys in his pockets or, in this case, on his body.

“Sure,” I said.

“Make that two for the egg salad on a hard roll,“ Allan said, switching off his ear gizmo with a flick of his finger.

I hid a smile at his trick of ordering the sandwich I favored––I never make egg salad. If Allan was trying to ingratiate himself with me, he’d have to think again. The weekly casual lunch, a get-together for most of us, was helpful for catching up with college news plus the food from the deli on Lexington Avenue was tasty. I don’t know what they added to the egg salad but it was deliciously different from anything I’d ever had so I could put up with Allan. The food would be delivered at mid-day, so I went in to my office and sat down at the desk. To my annoyance, Allan followed me.

He was right. Too often, when I was trying to make coherent notes from Dr. Anders’ scrawl, my computer would freeze or crash, which meant I’d need to call on Allan’s expertise.

“I’m catching up, lots to do.” I kept my answer noncommital.

“See you at lunch,” and Allan sauntered out.

Not if I could help it. I’d sit next to Matt. He was a good buffer if Allan tried to get too friendly. Not that I hesitated to throw cold water on Allan in public. It just took more time and energy than it was worth, particularly since nothing I ever said slowed Allan down.

Four

Strange how hindsight’s a perfect 20/20. The next day, the morning at the clinic was typical, one patient a no show, one cancelling minutes before the appointment, and most of the others arriving late. I hadn’t fallen asleep until late the night before, worried about Lanny, and when I woke, I wasn’t hungry and made do with a cup of miso. By lunchtime, I was ravenous and devoured a messy meatball sub at my desk, sorting through files as I munched, catching most of the drips before they landed on paperwork. Late afternoon, my phone rang. News of Lanny? I grabbed it

“It’s not that simple. I was scheduled to go hear Dr. Forkiotis lecture at the Connecticut Police Academy but I’ve got a nasty cold, all I want to do is go home to bed. You helped review the journal paper about the work Gus has done on DUI. Would you go in my place?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Good. I’ll call and tell Gus. You can take a Metro North train from Grand Central, Gus’ll meet you at Bridgeport. Dinner’s his treat.”

“Thanks, Elliot. I hope you feel better tomorrow.”

I hung up. I’d heard Gus Forkiotis read his papers at conferences and I never missed reading his cutting edge work, for he was one of the pioneers in marrying forensics to optometry. He and another Connecticut practitioner, Bob Bertolli, had lectured at the Connecticut State Police Academy for decades, bringing the police up to speed on the optometric science behind the ways drugs or alcohol affect our vision, so important in DUI cases. This visit was my chance to quiz Gus on what optometrists needed to know in the way of identifying and profiling techniques when called in to help at crime scenes or disaster sites, something that was happening more and more frequently. The sudden prospect of a trip to Connecticut even helped distract me from my concern for Lanny. How was I to know that later, I’d wish I’d said no. Said I had the flu. Typhoid, maybe.

I scooped up the papers covering my desk and took them over to the filing cabinet, planning to sort them the next day. I had time to finish writing one last memo and still squeeze in a visit to Lanny at St. Vincent’s before heading to the train station.

“A question for you, Dr. Kamimura.”

I jumped and the papers spilled. My back was to the door and I hadn’t heard anyone come in. Guess my nerves aren’t in the best shape these days. I bent to pick up the mess.

“Have you had time to read the memo I sent about reorganizing the Infants’ Clinic to save costs? Do you think my suggestions will work?”

I caught the familiar undertones of a Southern accent and didn’t have to turn around to know it was Matt Wahr. Sure enough, when I turned, he was a few steps inside my small office. In his immaculate navy jacket and sharply creased gray trousers, he was the well-groomed picture of a senior administrator. Did he have rubber soles on those polished wingtips? The man was seriously trim. Might faint at the idea of a meatball sub for lunch. A meager patch of pale brown hair was brushed across a head that showed an expanse of pink scalp, though his eyebrows were strong over blue eyes. It was a relief it wasn’t Allan or someone dropping in to shoot the breeze. Today, Matt’s normally pleasant expression held a hint of worry.

“Dr. Forrest and I went over the schedule,” I said. “You’re right, Matt, if we juggle some projects, it looks as though we can keep the clinic open the same number of hours. Dr. Forrest said he’d send you a memo.”

“Don’t be such a workaholic, come have a drink and unwind.” It was pest Allan from next door. I didn’t mention my plan to visit the hospital but bragged about the trip to Connecticut.

“Allan, I’ve one more memo to do then I’ve a train to catch, Dr. Forrest has a bad cold and asked me to go to Connecticut for him, to a lecture by Dr. Forkiotis.”

“Now you mention it, Dr. Forrest did sound congested just now when I called. But he suggested I speak to you about a vision exam.”

So that’s what Allan wanted. The request wasn’t unusual. Anyone who works at the college is eligible for an exam, free and gratis. It’s one of our few perks.

“I’ll be glad to help, Allan. Had problems recently?”

“Yes. I went to someone a friend recommended but I’m not happy with the prescription he gave me for contacts. I’m just not comfortable with them.”

“That’s too bad. What sort of discomfort?”

It was surprising he’d gone to someone outside the college but I didn’t ask for details about the prescription, I’d find those out during the examination.

“A nasty headache now and then, I’m sure it’s this new prescription, I don’t usually have headaches. Any chance you could fit me in now?” Allan said, not missing a beat.

That was Allan, his schedule was all that mattered. Still, I might as well get it out of the way, I could work on the memo first thing in the morning.

“I guess so. The fourth floor clinic will be free, the evening class isn’t scheduled to start until seven.”

Allan’s smile was a mix of relief and smug satisfaction. He followed me to the main clinic where he settled himself in the examination chair. He took out the contacts he’d been wearing and put them in the container I held out to him.

“Allan, these are monovision, one for near distance, one for far,” I said after I’d looked carefully at the contacts. “That’s probably part of your difficulty.”

“My friend has monovision and likes it,” Allan said, eyes blinking as he adjusted to the removal of the contacts. “He uses one eye for reading and the other for looking in the distance.”

“That’s not really a good idea,” I explained. “Our eyes are designed to team, to work together. It’s a major strain on the brain to try to use different information from each eye.”

“The prescription you have now isn’t wrong. What’s not right is that it’s been divided. One eye has a prescription for distance and the other for close work, which you knew.”

“My close work is very demanding, the college relies on me.” Allan sounded pompous, not unusual, he could switch from banter with smarmy sexual overtones in a flash, but I empathized, monovision lenses really are a strain.

“Multifocal lenses would be ideal for your viewing needs.”

“If you say so,” Allan said grudgingly. “Just what does ‘multifocal’ mean?”

“The contacts have ‘zones.’ For close work, like your IT responsibilities, your eyes use the center of the lens. For distance, there’s graduated power in the outer zone of the lens so your eyes see comfortably at distance.”

“What about in-between?” Allan asked, warming to the possibilities I was suggesting.

“Your eyes will naturally shift to the intermediate zone of the lens if you want to see something at an in-between range. Whatever you want to view, your brain will choose the correct zone in the contact lens. You know how it is when you’re in a car, if you look out at the traffic, you see what’s outside and the windshield or the wipers don’t get in the way? That’s because your brain guides your vision and knows what you want to view.”

“I’ll let you know when the multifocals are ready,” I handed him the container with his monovision contacts and took a quick look at the time, “I must dash.”

I headed down the hall to the stairs, Allan on my heels.

“What time’s your train?” he asked, falling into step beside me, jaunty and self-satisfied as usual.

“I’m making a quick stop some place else first.” I didn’t want to explain I was going to St. Vincent’s. God forbid he offered to come along.

“Looks like you’re going in the same direction as me. I can keep you company for a few blocks,” Allan said.

We chatted as we walked and Allan’s company wasn’t too irritating. Big plus, he didn’t hit on me. If he was this reasonable all the time, we’d get along fine. Maybe Allan had learned his lesson. Maybe he had a girlfriend. Lucky me. I felt a pang of sympathy for any female who’d have to put up with him.