"You ever talked to them?" he asked me.
"No. That's for you guys to do."
"You ought to hear all these cops hoping they get a case that involves Interpol, but if you ask 'em what Interpol is, they ain't got a clue,' Marino said. "You want to know the truth, I got no interest in dealing with Interpol. They scare me like the CIA. I don't even want people like that knowing I exist."
"That's ridiculous. You know what Interpol means, Marino?"
"Yeah. Secret Squirrels."
"It's a contraction of international police. The point is to get police in member countries to work together, talk to each other. Sort of what you wish people in your department would do."
"Then they must not have a Bray working for them."
I was watching Ruffin on the phone. Whomever he was talking to, he was trying to keep it private.
"Telecommunication, a restricted worldwide law enforcement web… You know, I don't know how much more I can stand this. He not only counters me, he flaunts it," I muttered, staring at. Ruffin as he hung up.
Marino glared at him.
"Interpol circulates color-coded notices for wanted and missing people, warnings, inquiries," I went on in a distracted way as Ruffin stuffed a towel in the back pocket of his scrubs and got a pill counter out of a cabinet.
He sat on a stool in front of a steel sink, his back to me. He opened a brown paper bag marked with a case number and pulled out three bottles of Advil and two bottles of prescription drugs.
"An unidentified body is a black notice," I said. "Usually suspected fugitives with international ties. Chuck, why are you doing that in here?"
"Like I told you, I'm behind on it. Never seen so many damn pills come in with bodies, Dr. Scaipetta. I can't keep up anymore. And I get up tу sixty or seventy or something, and the phone rings and I lose count and have to start all over again."
"Yeah, Chuckie-boy," Marino said. "I can see why you'd lose count real easy."
Ruffin started whistling.
"What are you so happy about all of a sudden?" Marino irritably asked, as Ruffin used tweezers to fill rows with pills on the little blue plastic tray.
"We're going to need to get fingerprints, dental charts, anything we can," I said to Marino as I removed a section of deep muscle from the thigh for DNA. "Anything we can get needs to be sent to them," I added.
"Them?" Marino asked.
I was getting exasperated.
"Interpol," I said tersely.
The phone rang again.
"Hey, Marino, can you get that? I'm counting."
"Tough shit," he said to Ruffin.
"Are you listening to me?" I looked up at Marino.
"Yeah," he said. "The state liaison's at State Police Criminal Investigation, used to be some guy who was a first sergeant and I remember asking him if he wanted to have a beer sometime at the F.O.P, or go grab a bite at Chetti's with some of the guys. You know, just being friendly, and he never even changed his tуne of voice. I'm pretty sure I was being taped."
I worked on a section of vertebral bone that I would clean with sulfuric acid and have trace check it for microscopic organisms called diatoms that were found in water all over the world.
"Wish I could remember his name," Marino was saying. "So he took all the info, contacted D.C., and D.C. contacted Lyon, where all the secret squirrels are. I hear they got this real spooky-looking building on a hidden road, sort of like Batman and his cave. Electrified fences, razor wire and gates and guards carrying machine guns, the whole nine yards:' "You've watched too much James Bond," I said.
"Not since Sean Connery quit. Movies suck these days, and nothing's good on TV anymore. I don't even know why I bother."
"Maybe you ought to consider reading a book now and then.,.
"Dr. Scarpetta?" Chuck said, hanging up. "That was Dr. Cooper. The STAT alcohol's oh-point-oh-eight in the effusate, and zip-o in the brain."
The 0.08 didn't mean much, since the brain didn't show an alcohol level, too. Perhaps the man was drinking before he died, or maybe what we had was postmortemgenerated.alcohol caused by bacteria. There were no other fluids for comparison, no urine or blood or fluid of the eye known as vitreous, which was too bad. If 0.08 was a true level, it might, at the very least, show that this man would have been somewhat impaired and therefore more vulnerable.
"How are you going to sign him out?" Marino asked.
"Acute seasickness." Ruffin popped a towel at a fly.
"You know, you're really beginning to get on my nerves;" Marino warned him.
"Cause of death undetermined," I said. "Manner, homicide. This isn't some poor dockworker who accidentally got locked inside a container. Chuck, I need a surgical pan. Leave it right here on the counter, and before the day is out, you and I need to talk:'
His eyes darted away from me like minnows. I pulled off my gloves and called Rose.
"Would you mind going into archives and finding one of my old cork cutting boards?" I asked her.
OSHA had decided that all cutting boards had to be Teflon-coated because porous ones were susceptible to contamination. That was appropriate if one worked around live patients or was making bread. I complied, but it didn't mean I threw anything away.
"I also need wig pins," I went on. "There should be a little plastic box of them in the right top drawer of my desk. Unless someone stole those, too."
"Not a problem," Rose said.
"I think the boards are on a bottom shelf in the back of storage, next to the boxes of old medical examiner handbooks:' "Anything else?"
"I don't guess Lucy's called," I said.
"Not yet. If she does, I'll find you."
I thought for a minute. It was past one o'clock. She was off the plane by now and could have called. Depression and fear rolled over me again.
"Send flowers to her office," I said. "With a note that says, `Thanks for the visit, love, Aunt Kay.' "
Silence.
"Are you still there?" I asked my secretary.
"You sure that's what you want to say?" she asked.
I hesitated.
"Tell her I love her and I'm sorry," I said.
14
0rdinarily, I would have used a permanent marker to outline the area of skin I needed to excise from a dead body, but in this case, no marker was going to show up on skin in such bad condition.
I did the best I could with a six-inch plastic ruler, measuring from the right base of the neck to the shoulder, and down to the bottom of the shoulder blade and back up.
"Eight and a half by seven by two by four," I dictated to Ruffin.
Skin is elastic. Once it is excised, it will contract, and it was important when I pinned it to the corkboard that I stretched it back to its original dimensions or any images that might be tattooed on the skin would be distorted.
Marino had left, and my staff was busy in their offices or the autopsy suite. Every now and then the closed-circuit TV showed a car pulling into the bay to bring a body or take one away. Ruffin and I were alone behind the closed steel doors of the decomposed room. I was going to hold him to a conversation.
"If you'd like to go with the police department," I said, "fine."
Glass clacked as he placed clean blood tubes in a rack.
"But if you're going to stay here, Chuck, you're going to have to be present, accountable and respectfuclass="underline" "
I retrieved a scalpel and a pair of forceps from the surgical table, and glanced at him. He seemed to be expecting what I said and had already thought about how he was going to reply.
"I may not be perfect, but I'm accountable," he said.
"Not these days. I need more clamps."
"There's a lot going on," he said as he retrieved them from a tray and set them within my reach. "In my personal life, I mean. The wife, the house we bought. You wouldn't believe all the problems with it."
"I'm sorry for your difficulties, but I have an entire state system to run. I frankly don't have time for excuses. If you don't carry your load, we have big problems. Don't make me walk into the morgue and find you haven't set up first. Don't make me look for you one more time."