Autopsy (Kay Scarpetta, #25)(14)

“How might he have known her running habits?”

“I guess she must have mentioned it to him. And he usually knew when she was back because she’d enter her code at the gate.” Fruge says the same thing Marino’s upset neighbor did. “The media must have gotten their information from him. How else could it have happened when her name isn’t connected to this property?”

Apparently, if you look up Gwen’s townhome, it’s in the name of the owner who lives in New York, Fruge says.

On another sticky mat is the field case of PPE. Squatting by it, she begins picking out what she decides I need, looking me up and down, checking on sizes.

“What about the cameras at the security gate?” I ask. “I’m wondering what they might have picked up the Friday afternoon or evening of the murder.”

“You and me both. I’m dying to know,” she says.

Handing me size small Tyvek coveralls and other protective gear, she tells me to suit up as if she’s in charge.

“To give you a quick road map, there’s very little in the way of furniture and stuff as you’re probably already noticing,” she says. “Nothing on the second floor at all. You can go up there if you want but it’s just a big empty bonus room with piles of construction crap covered by plastic tarps. The door is shut, the heat turned down low.”

She explains that Cliff Sallow, the manager, said the unit was being renovated when Gwen asked about a short-term rental. She was in a desperate hurry, her needs simple. She wanted a place that was private and safe. She wanted it instantly. The rental couldn’t be in her name, and no one else was allowed access under any circumstances unless it was a life-and-death emergency. Gwen took the townhome as is, and Fruge is an impressive information gatherer.

“I guess she must make a really good living because she didn’t seem concerned about money,” she says. “Or the fact there’s almost nothing inside, not even a bed. She has one of those inflatable ones. You’ll see it when you get there.”

“How much is her rent?” I pull on a pair of nitrile exam gloves.

“I should have asked that,” Fruge says with a flash of impatience. “But I’ll find out.”

“And did she give a reason for the urgency beyond the new job she was starting?”

“Not that I was told,” she replies as the front door opens wide, wind and rain gusting in.





CHAPTER 6


I’M GLAD YOU MADE it,” August Ryan says to me, and he’s short and slight, with braces on his teeth, his hair curly and gray.

He doesn’t come across as intimidating in the least, and that works well for him, I have no doubt. People tend to underestimate him, to let their guards down, assuming he’s sensitive, even gentle. It’s rather much the antithesis of how they react when Marino shows up.

“Just so you’re aware, Doctor Scarpetta, nobody’s been in here besides Fruge, me, and the crime scene guys who did the walk-through,” August says.

He steps on a sticky mat, suited up in white Tyvek from head to toe. I figure this is as good a time as any to mention my new forensic operations specialist.

“Pete Marino is with me and waiting in the truck,” I let them know, as if it’s a given. “He’s former Richmond P.D., and also worked with numerous other law enforcement agencies and my various offices over the years. Now he’s a private consultant who’s assisting my office, and I’ve asked him to take a look.”

“The fewer people in here the better,” August says, and what he really means is, hell no, he doesn’t want Marino around.

“He lives two doors down and has been inside this townhome before.” I cover my phone with a protective film. “I’ll let him elaborate on what he knows about problems Gwen Hainey allegedly was having with a former boyfriend before she moved here from Boston last month.”

“Well, that sounds important,” August replies, his interest kicking up.

“What kind of problems?” Fruge wants to know. “Because an estranged boyfriend might make sense. Obviously, she turned off the alarm and opened the door to whoever it was. It was locked when I got here, the alarm off. Everything was locked except for the door near the kitchen that leads into the garage.”

“I’m waiting for a callback from the alarm company,” August adds. “To get the history, see when she turned it on and off last.”

“Marino has information I think you’ll find helpful, and he can fill you in himself.” I won’t take no for an answer.

“If that’s what you want, Chief.” August isn’t happy about it. “We’ve set up a pup tent, and he can suit up like the rest of us. But I want you to walk through first, see what you notice.”

“I gotta call the manager back and find out how much she was paying in rent.” Fruge steps outside, shutting the door behind her.

“What about the security gate’s video recordings?” I ask August.

“That’s a good question.” He gets quieter, more serious.

“I assume you’ve reviewed them?”

“We got an unusual situation here,” he says. “There’s an hour of Friday night’s video that has no images, only audio. In other words, the cameras were covered for an interval.”