Gault was unhealthily pale, every vertebra and rib clearly defined. Apparently, he had lost a lot of weight and muscle tone, and I thought about the cocaine in his hair, which now was white, and as he shifted his position I saw his full breasts.
My eyes shot across the table as Lucy stiffened.
I felt Marino look at me as Carrie Grethen worked to give her client ecstasy. It seemed drugs had interfered, and no matter what she did, Sheriff Brown could not rise to receive what would prove to be the most he ever paid for pleasure. Lucy bravely kept her eyes on the television screen. She stared, shocked, as her former lover performed one lewd act after another on this big-bellied, intoxicated man.
The ending seemed predictable. Carrie would produce a gun and blow him away. But not so. Eighteen minutes into the video, footsteps sounded in Brown's bedroom, and her accomplice walked in. Temple Gault was dressed in a black suit and also wearing gloves. He seemed to have no clue that his every blink and sniffle were on camera. He stopped at the foot of the bed and watched. Brown had his eyes shut. I wasn't sure if he was conscious.
'Time's up,' Gault said impatiently.
His intense blue eyes seemed to penetrate the screen. They looked right into our conference room. He had not dyed his hair. It was still carrot red, long and slicked back from his forehead and behind his ears. He unbuttoned his jacket and withdrew a Clock nine-millimeter pistol. Nonchalantly, he walked toward the head of the bed.
Carrie looked on as Gault placed the barrel of the pistol between the sheriff's eyes. She placed her hands over her ears. My stomach tightened and I clenched my fists as Gault depressed the trigger, and the gun recoiled as if horrified by what it had just done. We sat in shock as the sheriff's agonal jerks and twitches stopped. Carrie dismounted.
'Oh damn,' Gault said, looking down at his chest. 'I got splashed.'
She snatched the handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket and dabbed his neck and lapels.
'It won't show. It's a good thing you wore black.'
'Go put something on,' he said as if her nudity disgusted him. His voice was adolescent and uneven, and he was not loud.
He went to the foot of the bed and picked up the dark clothing.
'What about his watch?' She looked down at the bed. 'It's a Rolex. It's real, baby, and it's gold. The bracelet's real, too.'
Gault snapped, 'Get dressed now.'
'I don't want to get dirty,' she said.
She dropped the bloody handkerchief on the floor where the police would later find it.
'Then bring the bags in,' he ordered.
He seemed to be fooling with the clothing as he placed it on the dresser, but the angle of the camera made it impossible for us to see him well. She came back with the bags.
Together they disposed of Brown's body in a way that seemed careful and well planned. First, they dressed him in pajamas, for reasons we did not understand. Blood spilled on the pajama top as Gault pulled the garbage bag over the sheriff's head and tied it with a shoelace that came from a running shoe in the closet.
They lowered the body from the bed into the black pouch on the floor, Gault holding Brown under the arms while Carrie got his ankles. They tucked him in and zipped it up. We saw them carry Lament Brown out and heard them on the stairs. Minutes later, Carrie ducked back in, got the clothing and left. Then the bedroom was empty.
Tucker tensely said, 'Certainly we can't ask for better evidence. Did the gloves come from the morgue?'
'Most likely from the van they stole,' I answered. 'We keep a box of gloves in each van.'
'It's not quite over,' Marino said.
He began advancing the film, speeding past scene after scene of the empty bedroom, until suddenly a figure was there. Marino rewound and the figure quickly walked backward out of the room.
Marino said, 'Look what happens exactly an hour and eleven minutes later.' He hit the play button again.
Carrie Grethen walked into the bedroom, dressed like Gault. Were it not for her white hair, I might have thought she was him.
'What? She's got on his suit?' Tucker asked, amazed.
'Not his suit,' I said. 'She's got on one like it, but it's not the suit Gault was wearing.'
'How can you tell?' Tucker said.
'There's a handkerchief in the pocket. She took Gault's handkerchief to wipe blood off him. And if you go back you'll see his jacket had no flaps on the pockets, but hers does.'
'Yeah,' Marino said. 'That's right.'
Carrie looked around the room, on the floor, on the bed, as if she had lost something. She was agitated and angry, and I was certain she was on the wrong side of a cocaine high. She looked around a minute longer, then left.
'I wonder what that was about,' Tucker said.
'Hold on,' Marino told us.
He advanced the film and Carrie was back. She searched some more, scowling, pulling covers back from the bed and looking under the bloody pillow. She got down on the floor and looked under the bed. She spewed a stream of profanities, eyes casting about.
'Hurry up,' Gault's impatient voice sounded from somewhere beyond the room.
She looked in the dresser mirror and smoothed her hair. For an instant, she was staring straight into the camera at close range, and I was startled by her deterioration. I once had thought her beautiful, with her clean complexion, perfect features and long brown hair. The creature standing before us now was gaunt and glassy eyed, with harsh white hair. She buttoned the suit jacket and walked off.
'What do you make of that?' Tucker asked Marino.
'I don't know. I've looked at it a dozen times and can't figure it out.'
'She's misplaced something,' Wesley said. 'That seems obvious.'
'Maybe it was just a last check,' Marino said. 'To make certain nothing was overlooked.'
'Like a video camera,' Tucker wryly said.
'She didn't care if something was overlooked,' Wesley said. 'She left Gault's bloody handkerchief on the floor.'
'But both of them was wearing gloves,' Marino said. 'I'd say they were pretty careful.'
'Was any money stolen from the house?' Wesley asked.
Marino said, 'We don't know how much. But Brown's wallet was cleaned out. He was probably missing guns, drugs, cash.'
'Wait a minute,' I said. 'The envelope.'
'What envelope?' Tucker asked.
'They didn't put it in his pocket. We watched them dress him and zip him up inside the pouch, but no envelope. Rewind it,' I said. 'Go back to that part to make certain I'm right.'
Marino rewound the tape and replayed the footage of Carrie and Gault moving the body out of the room. Brown was definitely zipped inside the pouch without the pink note that I had found in the breast pocket of his pajamas. I thought of other notes I had gotten and of all the problems Lucy was having with CAIN. The envelope had been addressed to me and fixed with a stamp as if the author's intention were to mail it.
'That may be what Carrie couldn't find,' I said. 'Maybe she's been the one sending me the letters. She intended to mail this most recent one, too, explaining why it was addressed and stamped. Then, unbeknownst to her, Gault put it in Brown's pajama pocket.'
Wesley asked, 'Why would Gault do that?'
'Perhaps because he knew the effect it would have,' I replied. 'I would see it in the morgue and instantly know that Brown was murdered and Gault was involved.'
'But what you're saying is that Gault isn't CAIN. You're saying that Carrie Grethen is,' Marino said.
It was Lucy who spoke. 'Neither of them is CAIN. They are spies.'
We were silent for a moment.
'Obviously,' I said, 'Carrie has continued helping Gault with the FBI computer. They are a team. But I think he took the note she wrote to me and did not tell her. I think that's what she was looking for.'
'Why would she look for it in Brown's bedroom?' Tucker wondered. 'Is there a reason she might have had it in there?'
'Certainly,' I said. 'She took her clothes off in there
. Perhaps it was in a pocket. Play that part, Marino. When Gault is moving the dark clothing off the bed.'
He went back to that segment, and though we could not specifically see Gault remove the letter from a pocket, he did tamper with Carrie's clothing. He certainly could have gotten her letter at that time. He could have placed it in Brown's pocket later, in the back of the van or perhaps in the morgue.
'So you're really thinking she's the one who's been sending the notes to you?' Marino asked skeptically.
'I think it's probable.'
'But why?' Tucker was confounded. 'Why would she do this to you, Dr. Scarpetta? Do you know her?'
'I do not,' I said. 'I've only met her, but our last encounter was quite confrontational. And the notes don't seem like something Gault would do. They never have.'
'She would like to destroy you,' Wesley calmly said. 'She would like to destroy both Lucy and you.'
'Why?' Janet asked.
'Because Carrie Grethen is a psychopath,' Wesley said. 'She and Gault are twins. It's interesting that they are now dressing alike. They look alike.'
'I don't understand what he did with the letter,' Tucker said. 'Why not just ask Carrie for it instead of taking it without telling her?'
'You're asking me to tell you how Gault's mind works,' Wesley said.
'Indeed I am.'
'I don't know why.'
'But it must mean something.'
'It does,' Wesley said.
'What?' Tucker asked.
'It means she thinks she has a relationship with him. She thinks she can trust him, and she's wrong. It means he will eventually kill her, if he can,' Wesley said as Marino turned on lights.
Everybody squinted. I looked at Lucy, who had nothing to say, and sensed her anguish in one small way. She had put her glasses on when she did not need them to see unless she was sitting at a computer.
'Obviously, they're working tag team,' Marino said.
Janet spoke again. 'Who's in charge?'
'Gault is,' Marino said. 'That's why he's the one with the gun and she's the one giving the blow job.'
Tucker pushed back his chair. 'They somehow met Brown. They didn't just show up at his house.'
'Would he have recognized Gault?' Lucy asked.
'Maybe not,' Wesley said.
'I'm thinking they got in touch with him - or she did, anyway - to get drugs.'
'His phone number is unpublished but not unlisted,' I said.
'There weren't any significant messages on his answering machine,' Marino added.
'Well, I want to know the link,' Tucker said. 'How did these two know him?'
'Drugs would be my guess,' Wesley said. 'It may also be that Gault got interested in the sheriff because of Dr. Scarpetta. Brown shot someone Christmas Eve, and the media covered it ad infinitum. It was no secret that Dr. Scarpetta was there and would end up testifying. In fact, she might have ended up in the jury pool since, ironically, Brown summoned her for jury duty.'
I thought of what Anna Zenner said about Gault bringing gifts to me.
'And Gault would have been aware of all this,' Tucker said.
Wesley said, 'Possibly. If we ever find where he lives, we may discover that he gets the Richmond newspaper by mail.'
Tucker thought for a while and looked at me. 'Then who killed the officer in New York? Was it this woman with white hair?'
'No,' I said. 'She could not have kicked him like that. Unless she is a black belt in karate.'
'And were they working together that night in the tunnel?' Tucker asked.
'I don't know that she was there,' I said.
'Well, you were there.'
'I was,' I said. 'I saw one person.'
'A person with white hair or red hair?'
I thought of the figure illuminated in the arch. I remembered the long dark coat and pale face. I had not been able to see the hair.
'I suspect it was Gault down there that night,' I said. 'I can't prove it. But there is nothing to suggest that he had an accomplice when Jane was killed.'
'Jane?' Tucker asked.
Marino said, 'That's what we call the lady he killed in Central Park.'
Then the implication is he did not form a violent partnership with this Carrie Grethen until he returned to Virginia, after New York.' Tucker continued trying to fit the pieces together.
'We really don't know,' Wesley said. 'It's never going to be an exact science, Paul. Especially when we're dealing with violent offenders rotting their brains with drugs. The more they decompensate, the more bizarre the behavior.'
The chief of police leaned forward, looking hard at him. 'Please tell me what the hell you make of all this.'
'They were connected before. I suspect they met through a spy shop in northern Virginia,' Wesley said. 'That is how CAIN was compromised - is compromised. Now it appears the connection has moved to a different level.'
'Yeah,' Marino said. 'Bonnie's found Clyde.'
15
We drove to my home on streets barely touched by traffic. The late night was perfectly still, snow covering the earth like cotton and absorbing sound. Bare trees were black against white, the moon an indistinct face behind fog. I wanted to go for a walk, but Wesley would not let me.
'It's late and you've had a traumatic day,' he said as we sat in his BMW, which was parked behind Marino's car in front of my house. 'You don't need to be walking around out here.'
'You could walk with me.' I felt vulnerable and very tired, and did not want him to leave.
'Neither of us needs to be walking around out here,' he said as Marino, Janet and Lucy disappeared inside my house. 'You need to go inside and get some sleep.'
'What will you do?'
'I have a room.'
'Where?' I asked as if I had a right to know.
'Linden Row. Downtown. Go to bed, Kay. Please.'
He paused, staring out the windshield. 'I wish I could do more, but I can't.'
'I know you can't and I'm not asking you to. Of course, you can't any more than I could if you needed comfort. If you needed someone. That's when I hate loving you. I hate it so much. I hate it so much when I need you. Like now.' I struggled. 'Oh damn.'
He put his arms around me and dried my tears. He touched my hair and held my hand as if he loved it with all his heart. 'I could take you downtown with me tonight if that's what you really want.'
He knew I did not want that because it was impossible. 'No,' I said with a deep breath. 'No, Benton.'
I got out of his car and scooped up a handful of snow. I scrubbed my face with it as I walked around to the front door. I did not want anyone to know I had been crying in the dark with Benton Wesley.
He did not drive off until I had barricaded myself inside my house with Marino, Janet and Lucy. Tucker had ordered an around-the-clock surveillance, and Marino was in charge. He would not entrust our safety to uniformed men parked somewhere in a cruiser or van. He rallied us like Green Berets or guerrillas.
'All right,' he said as we walked into my kitchen. 'I know Lucy can shoot. Janet, you sure as hell better be able to if you're ever gonna graduate from the Academy.'
'I could shoot before the Academy,' she said in her quiet, unflappable way.
'Doc?'
I was looking inside the refrigerator.
'I can make pasta with a little olive oil, Parmesan and onion. I've got cheese if anybody wants sandwiches. Or if you give me a chance to thaw it, I've got le piccagge col pesto di ricotta or tortellini verdi. I think there's enough for four if I warm up both.'
Nobody cared.
I wanted so much to do something normal.
'I'm sorry,' I said in despair. 'I haven't been to the store lately.'
'I need to get into your safe, Doc,' Marino said.
'I've got bagels.'
'Hey. Anybody hungry?' Marino asked.
No one was. I closed the freezer. The gun safe was in the garage.
'Come on,' I told him.
He followed me out and I opene
d it for him.
'Do you mind telling me what you're doing?' I asked.
'I'm arming us,' he said as he picked up one handgun after another and looked at my stash of ammunition. 'Damn, you must own stock in Green Top.'
Green Top was an area gun shop that catered not to felons, but to normal citizens who enjoyed sports and home security. I reminded Marino of this, although I could not deny that by normal standards I owned too many guns and too much ammunition.
From Potter's Field Page 23