Final Jeopardy

I rested a few minutes then picked my head up, turned on the lights, pulled off my panty hose, and draped my suit over the grip on the treadmill. My leggings and t-shirt felt much more comfortable, and I washed my face in the bathroom sink, sprit zing on some Chanel 22, before going out to join my baby-sitter in the den. There was something about my favorite perfumes that always soothed me, and I was sorely overdue for soothing.

Mike muted the television as I walked into the room, handed me my drink, and let me settle into my chair before he asked me whether I still wanted to talk about the case.

“Is there anything else we have to talk about tonight?”

“No,” he responded.

“It just bothers me. You know as well as I do that most homicides are completely random.

I mean if they’re not domestic or drug-related, then the killer and victim have absolutely no co

“It isn’t hunting season, Mike.”

“You know what I’m talking about. Let’s knock it off you’re right. Di

Then I’ll get out of your hair till the morning.“

“I’ll drink to that. Cheers.”

We watched CNN until the pizza arrived Third World civil wars were generally a diversion from a day at the criminal courthouse and then moved to the dining-room tab leto eat, working on our second drinks.

“You know what you said when we came in tonight, about your father thinking you’ve been at it too long?

Were you kidding, Alex?“

”No, but that won’t change anything. You know how I feel about my job. It’s just that no one in my family no one in my life understands that attraction. It’s not quite what they envisioned for their kid.“

I had been raised in a comfortable suburban neighborhood north of Manhattan, the third child only daughter of parents who were old-fashioned and uncompromising in their devotion to each other and their families. My father’s parents were Russian Jews who emigrated to this country in the 1920s with his two older brothers, then he and his sister had been born in New York. My mother’s background was entirely different. Her ancestors had come from Finland at the turn of the century and settled on a farm in New England, re-creating the life they had known in Scandinavia, down to the primitive wooden outhouse and sauna on the edge of an icy cold lake.

She and my father met when he was an intern just out of medical school and she was a college student, both caught up one night in the same disaster. Manhattan’s most famous nightclub in the fifties the Montparnasse was a major attraction because of the combination of its glamorous crowds and its great jazz. My mother was there with a date one November evening, while my father was trying to get in the door with three of his pals who had just finished a tour on duty at the hospital. A raging fire broke out in the kitchen and spread quickly through the crowded club, igniting damask tablecloths and chiffon dresses and silk scarves. The four young doctors turned the Park Avenue sidewalk into a makeshift emergency room, tri aging the fleeing patrons and performers, socialites and staff, as people trampled each other in an effort to escape the treacherous inferno.

My father spent the rest of the night riding the ambulances back and forth from nearby hospitals, unable to help the eighteen men and women who had perished inside the club, but saving scores of lives and calming dozens more who had been overcome by the combination of smoke and fear. The untrained volunteer who worked beside him for hours had been among the fortunate few to emerge unharmed from the Montparnasse. He learned only her first name that night Maude but was taken as much by her strength of spirit and gentle ma

They married a year later and my father went on to do his residency in cardiology. I was twelve years old when he and his partner invented a half-inch piece of plastic tubing called the Cooper-Hoffman Valve, which changed our comfortable suburban lifestyle as much as it changed the face of cardiac bypass surgery. For the next decade, barely an operation of that nature in North America proceeded without the use of a Cooper-Hoffman, and although my father continued to do the lifesaving surgery that he found so rewarding, the income that he amassed from the distribution of the valve and the trust funds it endowed for my brothers and myself gave each of us the invaluable freedom to pursue our own dreams and our own careers. For me, that had developed into a devotion to public service, with the luxury of a personal lifestyle not possible for most of my colleagues, but which certainly helped to relieve the relentless intensity of my particular specialty.

Four years ago, my mother had convinced my father to retire from his surgical practice. They sold the house in Harrison, kept a condo in Aspen to be near their sons and grandchildren in the West, and moved to an exquisite Caribbean island called St.

Earth’s. When they weren’t traveling so my father could lecture at medical schools around the world, they were primarily working on nothing more arduous than improving their French, reading all the books that I never seemed to have time to get to, and worrying about why their daughter was still single and so content to be immersed in a steady diet of sexual violence.

Mike had met my parents many times and knew exactly what I was talking about.

“Maybe they’re right, Alex. You can still be a prosecutor and do other things frauds, organized crime, drug cartels.”

“Not for me. You know what I love about this? Most women who survive a sexual assault come to the criminal justice system not expecting that any kind of justice will be done. They doubt that the rapist will be caught, and both fiction and made-for-TV movies have taught them that even if he is, he’ll never be convicted. It’s great to be part of changing that, of making the system work in these cases, of putting these bastards away. And it’s so new. Twenty years ago we had laws in this country that literally said that the testimony of a woman in rape case was not enough evidence to convict her attacker. It was the only crime on the books like that. Imagine, your guys could be found guilty just on circumstantial evidence, but a woman was not competent to be an eyewitness to her own rape. It’s very exhilarating to be a part of these victories.”