Kay Scarpet - Cruel And Unusual Part 17

"Iam sure."

"Waddellas so-called reformation, him turning into such a sweetheart. Sometime let me tell you about that, Dr. Scarpetta, about the way he used to brag to other inmates about what he did to that poor Naismith girl. Thought he was a real c.o.c.k of the walk because he did a celebrity."

The room was airless and too warm. I could feel his eyes crawl over my body.

"Of course, I donat guess much surprises you, either," he said.

"No, Mr. Donahue. There isna't much that surprises me."

"To be honest, I donat know how you look at what you do every day. Especially this time of year, people killing each other and themselves, like that poor lady who committed suicide in her garage the other night after opening her Christmas presents early."

His remark caught me like an elbow in the ribs. There had been a brief story in the morning paper about Jenniferas Deightonas death, and a police source had been quoted as saying that it appeared she had opened her Christmas presents early. This might imply she had committed suicide, but there had been no statement to that effect.

"Which lady are you referring to?"

I asked.

"Donat recall the name."

Donahue sipped his drink, his face flushed, eyes bright and constantly moving. "Sad, real sad. Well, youall have to visit us at our new digs in Greensville one of these days."

He smiled broadly, then left me for a bosomy matron in black. He kissed her on the mouth and both of them started laughing.

I went home at the earliest opportunity, to find a fire blazing and my niece stretched out on the couch, reading. I noted several new presents under the tree.

"How was it?" she asked with a yawn.

"You were wise to stay home," I said. "Has Marino called?"

"Nope."

I tried him again, and after four rings he answered irritably.

"I hope I didnat get you too late," I apologized.

"I hope not, either. Whatas wrong now?"

"A lot of things are wrong. I met your friend Mr. Donahue at a party this evening."

"What a thrill."

"I wasnat impressed, and maybe Iam just paranoid, but I thought it odd he brought up Jennifer Deightonas death."

Silence.

"The other little twist," I went on, "is it appears Jennifer Deighton faxed a note to Nicholas Grueman less than two days before her murder. In it she sounded upset, and I got the impression he wanted to meet with her. She suggested he come to Richmond."

Still Marino said nothing.

"Are you there?" I asked.

"Iam thinking"

"Glad to hear it. But maybe we should think together. Sure I canat change your mind about dinner tomorrow?"

He took a deep breath. "Iad like to, Doc. But I.. " A female voice in the background said, "Which draweras it in?"

Marino evidently placed his hand over the receiver and mumbled something. When he got back to me he cleared his throat.

"Iam sorry," I said . "I didnat know you had company."

"Yeah."

He paused.

"I would be delighted if you and your friend would come to dinner tomorrow," I offered.

"The Sheratonas got this buffet. We was going to go to that."

"Well, thereas something for you under the tree. If you change your mind, give me a call in the morning."

"I donat believe it. You broke down and got a tree? Bet itas an ugly little sucker."

"The envy of the neighborhood, thank you very much," I said."

Wish your friend a Merry Christmas for me."

7.

I woke up the next morning to church bells chiming and draperies glowing with the sun. Though Iad had very little to drink the night before, I felt hung over. Lingering in bed, I fell back to sleep and saw Mark in my dreams.

When I finally got up, the kitchen was fragrant with vanilla and oranges. Lucy was grinding coffee beans.

"Youare going to spoil me, and then what will I do? Merry Christmas."

I kissed the top of her head, noticing an unusual bag of cereal on the counter. "Whatas this?"

"Ches.h.i.+re muesli. A special treat. I brought my own supply. Itas best with plain yogurt if youave got it, which you donat. So weall have to settle for skim milk and bananas. Plus, we have fresh orange juice and decaffeinated French vanilla coffee. I guess we should call Mom and Grans."

While I dialed my motheras number from the kitchen, Lucy went into my study to use that extension. My sister was already at my motheras, and soon the four of us were on the line, my mother complaining at great length about the weather. It was storming fiercely in Miami, she said. Torrential rains accompanied by punis.h.i.+ng winds had begun late Christmas Eve, the morning celebrated by a grand illumination of lightning.

"You shouldnat be on the phone during an electrical storm," I said to them. "Weall call back later."

"Youare so paranoid, Kay," Dorothy chided. "You look at everything in terms of how it might kill somebody."

"Lucy, tell me about your presents," my mother interjected.

"Grans, we havenat opened them yet."

"Wow. That was really close," Dorothy exclaimed above crackling static. "The lights just flickered."

"Mom, I hope you donat have a file open on your computer," Lucy said. "Because if you do, you probably just lost whatever you were working on."

"Dorothy, did you remember to bring b.u.t.ter?" my mother asked.

"d.a.m.n. I knew there was somethinga"

"I must have reminded you three times last night."

"Iave told you I canat remember things when you call me while Iam writing, Mother."

"Can you imagine? Christmas Eve and would you go to ma.s.s with me? No. You stay home working on that book and then forget to bring the b.u.t.ter."

"Well go out and get some."

"And just what do you think will be open on Christmas morning?"

"Something will be."

I looked up as Lucy walked into the kitchen.

"I donat believe it," she whispered to me as my mother and sister continued to argue with each other.

After I hung up, Lucy and I went into my living room, where we were returned to a quiet winter morning in Virginia, bare trees still and patches of snow pristine in the shade. I did not think I could ever live in Miami again. The change of seasons was like the phases of the moon, a force that pulled me and s.h.i.+fted my point of view. I needed the full with the new and the nuances in between, days to be short and cold in order to appreciate spring mornings.

Lucyas present from her grandmother was a check for fifty dollars. Dorothy gave money as well, and I felt rather ashamed when Lucy opened the envelope from me and added my check to the others.

"Money seems so impersonal," I apologized.

"Itas not impersonal to me because itas what I want. You just bought another meg of memory for my computer."

She handed me a small, heavy gift wrapped in red-and-silver paper, and could not suppress her joy when she saw the look on my face as I opened the box and parted layers of tissue paper.

"I thought you could keep your court schedule in it," she said. "It matches your motorcycle jacket."

"Lucy, itas gorgeous."

I touched the black lambskin binding of the appointment book and smoothed open its creamy pages. I thought of the Sunday she had come to town, of how late she had stayed out when Iad let her take my car to the club. I bet the sneak had gone shopping.

"And this other present here is just refills for the address section and the next calendar year."

She set a smaller gift in my lap as the telephone rang.

Marino wished me a Merry Christmas and said he wanted to drop by with my present."

"Tell Lucy shead better dress warmly and not to wear anything tight," he said irritably.

"What are you talking about?"

I puzzled.

"No tight jeans or she wonat be able to get cartridges in and out of her pockets. You said she wanted to learn how to shoot. Lesson one is this morning before lunch. If she misses cla.s.s, itas her d.a.m.n problem. What time are we eating?"

"Between one-thirty and two. I thought you were tied up"

"Yeah, well, I untied myself. Iall be over in about twenty minutes. Tell the brat itas cold as h.e.l.l outside. You want to come with us?"

"Not this time. Iall stay here and cook."

Marinoas disposition was no more pleasant when he arrived at my door, and he made a great production of checking my spare revolver, a Ruger .38 with rubber grips. Depressing the thumb latch, he pushed open the cylinder and slowly spun it around, peering into each chamber. He pulled back the hammer, looked down the barrel, and then tried the trigger. While Lucy watched him in curious silence, he pontificated on the residue buildup left by the solvent I used and informed me that my Ruger probably had "spurs" that needed filing. Then he drove Lucy away in his Ford.

When they returned several hours later, their faces were rosy from the cold and Lucy proudly sported a blood blister on her trigger finger.

"How did she do?"

I asked, drying my hands on my ap.r.o.n.

"Not bad," Marino said, looking past me. "I smell fried chicken."

"No, you donat."

I took their coats. "You smell cotoletta di tacchino alla bolognese."

"I did better than anot bad,a" Lucy said. "I only missed the target twice."

"Just keep dry firing until you stop slapping the trigger. Remember, crawl the hammer back."

"Iave got more soot on me than Santa after heas come down the chimney," Lucy said cheerfully. "Iam going to take a shower."

In the kitchen I poured coffee as Marino inspected a counter crowded with Marsala, fresh-grated Parmesan, prosciutto, white truffles, sauteed turkey fillets, and other a.s.sorted ingredients that were going into our meal. We went into the living room, where the fire was blazing.

"What you did was very kind," I said. "I appreciate it more than youall ever know."

"One lessonas not enough. Maybe I can work with her a couple more times before she goes back to Florida."

"Thank you, Marino. I hope you didnat go to a lot of bother and sacrifice to change your plans."

"It was no big deal," he said curtly.

"Apparently, you decided against dinner at the Sheraton," I probed. "Your friend could have joined us."

"Something came up."