"She shows up and just walks right into the middle of everything and starts telling people what to do, like she's the detective. She starts looking through the porno magazines the guy was having fun with when he strung himself up in his leather mask. She starts asking his wife questions."
"Whoa," I said.
"So I tell her to leave, that she's in the way and screwing up everything, and the next day she calls me into her office. I figure she's going to be tear-ass about what happened, but she doesn't say a word. Instead, she asks what I think of the detective division."
He took a gulp of coffee and stirred in two more teaspoons of sugar.
"Thing is, I could tell that really wasn't what she was interested in;" he went on. "I knew she wanted something. She wasn't in charge of investigations, so why the hell was she asking me about the detective division?"
I poured myself a glass of wine.
"Then what did she want?" I asked.
"She wanted to talk about you. She started asking me a thousand questions about you, said she knew we had been `partners in crime,' as she put it, for a long time."
I checked the dough, then the sauce.
"She was asking me background stuff. What the cops thought of you."
"And what did you say?"
"I told her you was a doctor-lawyer-Indian chief with an IQ bigger than my paycheck, that the cops was all in love with you, including the women. And let's see, what else?"
"That was probably quite enough."
"She asked about Benton and what happened to him and how much it had affected your work."
Anger heated me up.
"She starting quizzing me about Lucy. About why she left the FBI and if the way she swings is the reason."
"This woman's fast sealing her fate with me," I warned.
"I told her Lucy left the Bureau because NASA asked her to become an astronaut;" Marino kept going. "But when she got into the space program, she decided she liked flying helicopters better and signed on as a pilot for ATE Bray wanted me to tell her next time Lucy was in town, to arrange for- the two of them to meet because Bray might want to recruit her. I said that was sort of like asking Billie Jean King to be a ball girl. End of story? I didn't tell Bray shit except I ain't your social secretary. One week later, my ass was back in uniform."
I reached for my pack and felt like a junkie. We shared an ashtray, smoking in my house, silent and frustrated. I was trying not to feel hateful.
"I think she's jealous as hell of you, plain and simple, Doe," Marino finally said. "She's the big shot moving here from D.C., and all she hears about is the great Dr. Scarpetta. And I think she got a cheap thrill out of busting up the two of us. Gave the bitch a little power rush."
He smashed the cigarette butt in the ashtray and ground it out.
"This is the first time you and me haven't worked together since you moved here;' he said as the doorbell rang for a second time this night.
"Who the hell's that?" he said. "You invite someone else and not tell me?"
I got up and looked into the video screen of the Aiphone on the kitchen wall. I stared, incredulous, at-the images picked up by the front-door camera.
"I'm dreaming," I said.
7
Lucy and Jo seemed apparitions, physical presences that could not be flesh and blood. Both of them had been riding the streets of Miami barely eight hours ago. Now they were in my arms.
"I don't know what to say," I said at least five times as they dropped duffel bags on the floor.
"What the hell's going on?" Marino boomed, intercepting us in the great room. "What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded of Lucy, as if she had done something wrong.
He had never been able to show affection in a normal way. The gruffer and more sarcastic he got, the happier he was to see my niece.
"'They fire your ass down there already?" he asked.
"What's this, trick or treat?" Lucy said just as loudly, tugging a sleeve of his uniform shirt. "You trying to make us finally believe you're a real cop?"
"Marino," I said as we went into the kitchen, "I don't think you've met Jo Sanders."
"Nope," he said.
"You've heard me talk about her."
He gave Jo a blank look. She was an. athletically built strawberry blonde with dark blue eyes, and I could tell he thought she was pretty.
"He knows exactly who you are," I said to Jo. "He's not being rude. He's just being him."
"You work?" Marino asked her, fishing his smoldering cigarette out of the ashtray and drawing one last puff.
"Only when I have no choice," Jo- answered.
"Doing what?"
"A little rappelling out of Black Hawks. Drug busts. Nothing special."
"Don't tell me you and Lucy are in the same field division down there in South America."
"She's DEA," Lucy told him.
"No shit?" Marino said to Jo. "You seem kind of puny for DEA: "
"They're into quotas," Jo said.
He opened the refrigerator and shoved things around until he found a Red Stripe beer. He twisted off the cap and started chugging.
"Drinks are on the house," he called out.
"Marino," I said. "What are you doing? You're on duty."
"Not anymore. Here, let me show you."
He set the bottle down hard on the table and dialed a number.
"Mann, what'cha know," he said into the phone. "Yeah, yeah. Listen, I ain't joking. I'm feeling like shit. You think you could cover for me tonight? I'll owe ya:'
Marino winked at us. He hung up, hit the speaker button on the phone and dialed again. His call was answered on the first ring.
"Bray;" the deputy chief of administration, Diane Bray, announced in my kitchen for all to hear.
"Deputy Chief Bray, it's Marino," he said in the voice of someone dying of a terrible scourge. "Really sorry to bug you at home."
He was answered with silence, having instantly and deliberately irritated his direct supervisor by addressing her as "Deputy Chief." According to protocol; deputy chiefs were always addressed as "Chief," while the chief himself was called "Colonel." Calling her at home didn't win him any points, either.
"What is it?" Bray tersely asked.
"I feel like hell," Marino rasped. "Throwing up, fever, the whole nine yards. I gotta mark off sick and go to bed."
"You certainly weren't sick when I saw you a few hours ago.,,
"It happened real sudden. I sure hope I didn't catch some bacteria thing…"
I quickly dashed out Strep and Clostridia on a notepad.
"… you know, like strep or Clos-ter-ida out there at the scene. One doctor I called warned me about that, because of getting in such close proximity to that dead body and all…
"When does your shift end?" she interrupted him.
"Eleven."
Lucy, Jo and I were red-faced, strangled by laughter we were fighting to hold in.
"It's not likely I can find someone to be watch commander this late in the shift," Bray coldly replied.
"I already got hold of Lieutenant Mann in third precinct. He's nice enough to work the rest of tour for me," Marino let her know as his health failed precipitously.
"You should have notified me earlier!" Bray snapped.
"I kept hoping I could hang in there, Deputy Chief Bray."
"Go home. I want to see you in my office tomorrow."
"If I'm well enough, I'll drop by, I sure will, Deputy Chief Bray. You take care, now. Sure hope you don't get whatever I got."
She hung up.
"What a sweetheart," Marino said as laughter leapt out.
"God, no wonder," Jo said when she could finally talk again. "I hear she's pretty much hated."
"How'd you hear that?" Marino frowned. "They talk about her in Miami?"
"I'm from here. On Old Mill, right off Three Chopt, not too far from the University of Richmond."
"Your dad teach there?" Marino asked.
"He's a Baptist minister."
"Oh. That must be fun."
"Yeah," Lucy chimed in, "kind of bizarre to think she grew up around here and we never met until Miami. So, what are you going to do about Bray?"