“I’ll offer to buy her a drink and then come out and get you.”
“Christ, Doc.” Marino was getting increasingly adamant. “I thought the whole point of this is to burn her.”
“Relax and let me do the talking.”
“Relax? I want to break the bitch’s neck,” he said.
“We have to be smart. We walk out from behind a bunker and start firing, we might just get hit first.”
“You telling me you ain’t going to tell her to her face you know what she’s done? The e-mail to Chuck and everything?”
He was incredulous and furious and kept repeating himself.
“Then what the hell are we doing here?” he went on.
“Marino,” I tried to calm him down. “You know better than this. You’re an experienced detective, and that’s what you have to be with her. She’s formidable. I’m going to tell you right now you’ll never muscle this woman into a corner.”
He was silent.
“Keep a lookout from your truck while I check the inside of the restaurant. If you spot her before I do, send me a ten-four on my pager and call the restaurant asking for me, just in case I don’t get the page for some reason,” I said.
He angrily lit a cigarette as I opened my door.
“It ain’t fucking fair,” he said. “We know fucking well what she’s doing. I still say we confront her and show her she ain’t as smart as she thinks.”
“You, of all people, know about building cases,” I reiterated. I was getting worried that he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
“We saw what she sent Chuck.”
“Lower your voice,” I said. “We can’t prove she sent that e-mail any more than I can prove I didn’t send e-mail that’s being attributed to me. I can’t even prove I didn’t write that dreadful column, for that matter.”
“Maybe I should just become a soldier of fortune.”
He blasted smoke into the rearview mirror, scanning.
“Page or call me?” I asked as I climbed out.
“What if you don’t get the message in time?”
“Then run her over with your truck,” I impatiently replied, pushing the door shut.
I looked around as I walked toward the restaurant and saw no sign of Bray. I had no idea what her personal car was but suspected she wouldn’t show up in it, anyway. I pulled open the heavy wooden door of Buckhead’s and was greeted by carefree voices and ice clinking in glasses as the bartender made drinks with a flourish. A mounted buck’s head explained the restaurant’s name. Lights were low, the paneling dark, and crates and racks of wine were stacked almost to the ceiling.
“Well, good evening.” The hostess at the podium smiled in a surprised way. “We’ve missed you, but I certainly know from the news that you’ve been a little busy. What can I help you with?”
“A reservation in the name of Bray?” I inquired. “I’m not sure of the time.”
She scanned the big reservation book, running a pencil down names and times. Then she tried again. She looked embarrassed. After all, it was impossible to stroll into a good restaurant unannounced even on a weeknight.
“I’m afraid not,” she quietly told me.
“Hmmm. Maybe it’s in my name?” I tried again.
She tried again, too.
“Gosh, I’m so sorry, Dr. Scarpetta. And we’re full tonight because we have a group taking up the entire front room.”
It was twenty of six now. Tables were covered with red-checked cloths, small lamps burning on them, and the room was completely empty because civilized people rarely dined before seven.
“I was going to have a drink with a friend.” I continued my act. “I suppose we could eat early if you could fit us? Maybe around six?”
“That’s no problem at all,” she said, brightening up.
“Then put me down,” I replied as my worries intensified.
What if Bray realized Chuck’s car wasn’t in the lot and became suspicious?
“Then six it is . . .”
I was acutely aware of the pager on my belt and listening for a phone to ring.
“Perfect,” I said to the hostess.
This scenario curdled my sensibilities. It was my nature, my training and my professional practice to always tell the truth, in no way to slip into the behavior of the wily, lowlife trial lawyer I could have been had I given myself up to manipulation, evasion and the gray areas of the law.
The hostess penciled my name in the book as my pager vibrated like a big insect. I read the 10-4 on the display and hurried back through the bar. I had no choice but to open the front door because the windows were opaque and I could not see through them. I spotted the dark Crown Victoria.
Marino didn’t do anything right away. My anxiety grew as Bray parked and turned her headlights off. I felt sure she wouldn’t wait for Chuck very long and could already imagine her annoyance. Little nobodies like him didn’t dare to keep Deputy Chief Diane Bray waiting.
“Is there something I can do for you?” the bartender asked me as he dried off a glass.
I continued to peer through the barely open door, wondering what Marino was going to do next.
“I’m expecting someone who isn’t sure exactly where you’re located,” I said.
“Just tell ’em we’re next to Michelle’s Face Works,” he said as Marino got out of his truck.
I met him in the parking lot and we walked with purpose toward Bray’s car. She didn’t notice us because she was talking on her portable phone and writing something down. When Marino tapped on her window, she turned to us, startled. Then her face turned hard. She said something else on her portable and ended her call. The window hummed down.
“Deputy Chief Bray? Thought that was you,” Marino said as if they were old friends.
He bent down and peered inside her car. Bray was clearly off balance and one could almost see her calculating thoughts regrouping in her head as she pretended there was nothing unusual about our running into her here.
“Good evening,” I politely said. “What a pleasant coincidence.”
“Kay, what a surprise,” she said in a flat voice. “How are you? So you’ve discovered Richmond’s little secret.”
“By now, I know most of Richmond’s little secrets,” I said with irony. “There are many of them if you know where to look.”
“I stay away from red meat as much as possible.” Bray switched conversational lanes. “But their fish is very good.”
“That’s like going to a whorehouse and playing solitaire,” Marino remarked.
Bray ignored him and tried to stare me down with no success. I’d learned from many years of warring with bad employees, dishonest defense attorneys and ruthless politicians that if I stared between a person’s eyes, he didn’t know I wasn’t, in fact, staring into his eyes, and I could keep up the intimidation all day.
“I’m eating dinner here,” she said as if she were distracted and in a hurry.
“We’ll wait until your guest shows up,” Marino said. “Sure don’t want you sitting alone out here in the dark or being bothered inside. Truth is, Deputy Chief Bray, you shouldn’t be roaming around without security, as recognizable as you’ve gotten to be since you moved here. You’ve kind of gotten to be a celebrity, you know.”
“I’m not meeting anyone,” she said, irritation honing her tone.
“We’ve never had a woman so high up in the department, especially one so attractive and so loved by the media.” Marino wouldn’t shut up.
She collected her pocketbook and mail off the seat, her cold anger palpable.
“Now if you’ll please excuse me?” She said it as an order.
“It’s not going to be easy to get a table tonight,” I let her know as she opened her door. “Unless you have a reservation,” I added, implying I knew damn well she didn’t.
Bray’s poise and self-confidence slipped just enough to unmask the evil coiling within. Her eyes struck at me, then revealed nothing as she climbed out of the car
and Marino blocked her way. She couldn’t get past him without ducking around him and brushing against him, and her enormous ego would never allow that.
She was almost pinned against the door of her shiny new car. It didn’t escape my notice that she was dressed in corduroys, running shoes, and a Richmond Police Department jacket. Vain woman that she was, she would never show up in a fine restaurant dressed like that.
“Excuse me,” she said loudly to Marino.
“Oh gee, I’m sorry,” he gushed, stepping to one side.
I chose my next words carefully. I could not directly accuse her, but I intended to make sure she knew she’d gotten away with nothing and if she persisted in her ambushes, she would lose and she would pay.
“You’re an investigator,” I thoughtfully said to her. “Maybe you can tell me your opinion on how someone might have gotten hold of my password and e-mailed messages, impersonating me. And then someone—most likely the same person—started an asinine, lobotomized chat room on the Internet called Dear Dr. Kay.”
“How awful. I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Computers are not my specialty,” she said with a smile.
Her eyes were dark holes, her teeth flashing like steel blades in the glow of sodium lights.
“All I can suggest is you look at the people closest to you, perhaps someone disgruntled, a friend you’ve fallen out with,” she continued her act. “I really have no idea, but I would expect it’s someone with a link to you. I’ve heard your niece is an expert in computers. Maybe she could help you.”
Her mention of Lucy infuriated me.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to her,” Bray said as a by-the-way. “You know, we’re implementing COMPSTAT and need a computer expert.”
COMPSTAT, or computer-driven statistics, was a new model of enlightened, technologically advanced policing devised by the New York Police Department. Computer experts would be needed for it, but to suggest a project like that for someone with Lucy’s skills and experience was an insult.
“You might pass this along to her when you talk next,” Bray added.
Marino’s rage was boiling like water in a pot.
“We really should sit down sometime, Kay, and let me tell you about some of my experiences in Washington,” she said as if I had never worked anywhere but in a small town. “You can’t even begin to know the things people will try to bring you down. Especially women against the women, sabotage in the workplace. I’ve seen the best topple.”
“I’m sure you have,” I said.
She locked her car door and said, “Just so you know, you don’t need a reservation to sit at the bar. That’s where I usually eat anyway. They’re famous for their steak fromage, but I recommend you try the lobster, Kay. And you, Captain Marino, would love their onion rings. I hear they’re to die for.”
We watched her walk off.
“Fucking bitch,” Marino said.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
“Yeah, last thing I want to do is eat anywhere near poison like that. I ain’t even hungry.”
“That won’t last.”
We climbed into his truck and I sank beneath a heavy depression that held me down like tar. I wanted to find some victory, some ray of optimism in what had just transpired, but I couldn’t. I felt defeated. Worse, I felt foolish.
“Want a cigarette?” Marino asked inside the dark cab as he punched in the lighter.
“Why not,” I muttered. “I’m going to stop again pretty soon.”
He handed one to me and lit his. He gave me the lighter. He kept glancing over at me, knowing how I felt.
“I still think it was a good thing we done,” he said. “I bet she’s in that restaurant belting down whiskeys because we got her good.”
“We didn’t get her good,” I replied, squinting at the lights of cars passing by. “With her, I’m afraid the only silver bullet is prevention. We have to guard against further damage by not only anticipating but also following up on everything we do.”
I opened the window several inches, cold air touching my hair. I blew out smoke.
“No-show Chuck,” I commented.
“Oh, he showed up. You just didn’t see him because he saw us first and hightailed it out of there.”
“You sure?”
“I saw his piece-of-shit Miata turning into the road leading to the shopping center, and then about halfway to the parking lot it suddenly did a U-turn and got the hell out of Dodge. And this was at the exact time Bray said something else on her portable after she saw us outside her car.”
“Chuck’s a direct conduit from me to her,” I said. “She may as well have a key to my office.”
“Hell, maybe she does,” he said. “But, Doc, you just leave Chuckie-boy to me.”
“Now, that scares me,” I said. “Please don’t go doing something reckless, Marino. He does work for me, after all. I don’t need any other problems.”
“My point exactly. You don’t need any more problems.”
He dropped me off at the office and waited until I got into my car. I followed him out of the parking lot, and he went his way and I went mine.
19
The tiny moon-eyes from the dead man’s skin glowed in my mind. They looked out from that deep, off-limits place where I stored my fears, which were many and of a kind not felt by anyone else I knew. Wind shook bare trees and clouds streamed like banners across the sky as a cold front rushed in.
I had heard on the news the temperature might dip into the twenties that night, which seemed impossible after weeks that felt like fall. It seemed everything was out of balance and abnormal in my life. Lucy wasn’t Lucy so I couldn’t call her and she wasn’t speaking to me. Marino was working a homicide even though he wasn’t a detective anymore, and Benton was gone, and everywhere I looked for him I found an empty frame. I still waited for his car to drive up, for the phone to ring, for the sound of his voice, because it was too soon for my heart to accept what my brain knew.
I turned off the Downtown Expressway onto Cary Street, and as I drove past a shopping center and the Venice Restaurant, I became aware of a car behind me. It was driving very slowly and too far away for me to tell anything about the person behind the wheel. Instinct told me to slow down, and when I did, so did the car. I turned right on Cary Street, and the car stayed with me. When I took a left into Windsor Farms, there it was, maintaining the same safe distance.
I didn’t want to get any deeper into this neighborhood because the roads were winding and narrow and dark. There were many cul-de-sacs. I took a right on Dover and dialed Marino’s number as the car turned right, too, and my fear grew.
“Marino,” I said out loud to nobody there. “Be home, Marino.”
I ended the call and tried again.
“Marino! Goddamn it, be home!” I said to the hands-free phone in the dashboard as Marino’s clunky cordless phone inside his house rang and rang.
He probably had it parked by the TV, as usual. Half the time he couldn’t find it because he didn’t return it to its base. Maybe he wasn’t home yet.
“What?” his loud voice surprised me.
“It’s me.”
“Goddamn-mother-fucking-son-of-a-bitch. If I hit my knee on that goddamn table one more time . . . !”
“Marino, listen to me!”
“Once more and it’s out in the yard and I’m gonna smash the shit out of it with a hammer! Right in the fucking kneecap! I can’t see the fucking thing ’cause it’s glass and guess who said it would look so nice there?”
“Calm down,” I exclaimed, watching the car in my mirror.
“I’ve had three beers and I’m hungry and tired as hell. What?” he asked.
“There’s someone following me.”
I turned right on Windsor Way, heading back to Cary Street. I drove at a normal speed. I did nothing out of the ordinary except not head for my house.
“What do you mean, someone’s following you?” Marino asked.
“What the hell do you thi
nk I mean?” I said as my anxiety heated up more.
“Then head this way right now,” he said. “Get out of that dark neighborhood of yours.”
“I am.”
“Can you see a plate number or anything?”
“No. He’s too far behind me. It seems he’s deliberately staying far enough behind me so I can’t read the tag or see his face.”
I got back on the expressway, heading to the Powhite Parkway, and the person tailing me apparently gave up and turned off somewhere. Lights of moving cars and trucks and the iridescent paint on signs were confusing, and my heart was beating hard. The half-moon slipped in and out of clouds like a button, and gusts of wind rushed the side of the car like linebackers.
I dialed my answering service at home. I had three hang-ups and a fourth message that was a slap in the face.
“Chief Bray here,” it began. “So nice to run into you at Buckhead’s. I have a few policy and procedural issues to discuss with you. Managing crime scenes and evidence, and so on. I’ve been meaning to discuss them with you, Kay.”
The sound of my first name coming out of her mouth infuriated me.
“Maybe we can have lunch in the next few days,” her recorded voice went on. “A nice private lunch at the Commonwealth Club?”
My home phone number was unlisted and I was very careful who I gave it to, but it was no riddle how she’d gotten it. My staff, including Ruffin, had to be able to reach me at home.
“In case you haven’t heard,” Bray’s message went on, “Al Carson resigned today. You remember him, I’m sure? Deputy chief of investigations. A real shame. Major Inman will be acting deputy chief.”
I slowed at a toll booth and tossed a token into the bin. I moved on and a beat-up Toyota full of teenaged boys stared boldly at me as they passed. One of them mouthed mother-fucker for no apparent reason.
I concentrated on the road as I thought about what Wagner had said. Someone was pressuring Representative Connors to push legislation that would transfer my office out of Health and Human Services and into Public Safety, where the police department would have more control over me.
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