Autopsy (Kay Scarpetta, #25)(78)

“I don’t blame her for checking us out,” I say to Marino. “She’d be foolish not to, and I also think she’s lonely, with a lot to prove.”

That might be what fuels her intensity, driving her behavior, I explain. Her late father was a Presbyterian minister, and from what I recall, he wasn’t easy.

“You know what her mother’s like, consumed with her career and notoriety, and she lives several hours from here,” I add. “I doubt they see each other much.”

“I don’t think Fruge’s got anybody special in her life, either,” Marino says. “Apparently, she hangs out alone at A League of Her Own, and I’m not talking about the movie.”

He means the lesbian sports bar in D.C. where Fruge likes the baseball videos and dancing, he says. This is where she ran into Lucy and Janet a couple years ago, he continues, relaying what he’s learned.

“When was she saying all this?” I ask.

“After she dropped you off last night, she came back to Gwen’s place, shadowing August and me, talking nonstop,” he replies. “She said Elvin Reddy is an idiot, that everybody was terrified of him while he ran the OCME, and still is now that he’s the health commissioner. That’s why there’s such a code of silence.”

“He’s not an idiot,” I reply. “It would be easier if he were.”

“Sounds to me like he didn’t want Cammie Ramada to be a homicide, end of story.”

“Only the story doesn’t end. Here we are after another victim has turned up in the same park,” I reply. “This one with her throat slashed and hands cut off, brazenly dumped by the railroad tracks. A homicide that perhaps could have been prevented had anybody been looking for a violent offender.”

“If it turns out that Cammie was attacked while jogging along that same stretch where Gwen’s body was dumped eight months later?” he says. “Then we’re not talking about an ex-boyfriend or a hit because someone’s spying. We’re talking a Ted Bundy, a Night Stalker, a Jeffrey Dahmer.”

Marino has the same list of top serial killers that he’s always had. At least those psychopaths were interesting, he’ll tell you. Unlike the dirtbags who plant pipe bombs, storm the Capitol, and shoot up grocery stores, he’s quick to remind everyone.

“I think you and I are worried about the same thing,” I reply over the thrumming of his oversize tires, reminded of why he was delayed picking me up. “Is everything all right with your truck? Should I be concerned about having to pull over and change a tire since we’re headed out in the middle of nowhere in terrible weather?”

“Squirrelly sensors again.” He turns up the defrost, the lights of businesses and cars blurry as it begins to drizzle. “I’m thinking of switching to run flats, then I don’t have to worry about it. But they don’t make for the most comfortable ride, and the tread wears out fast.”

No doubt, the pricey airless tires are in his future, maybe a stocking stuffer. Whatever he wants, my sister makes sure he gets it, and I don’t know when I’ve seen him so bored. Except tonight he’s sitting up straighter, full of vim and vigor, and there’s a defiance in his voice I’ve not heard in a while.

“Just so you know, I dropped by today . . . ,” he starts to say as my phone rings.

“Now what?” I feel a touch of dread when I see the name on the display. “I’d better take this.” I answer Maggie’s call as my chest gets tight.

“Doctor Scarpetta? Very sorry to interrupt, and I’ll make this short.” Her imperious voice sounds over speakerphone. “Doctor Reddy needs to see you in the morning. I’ve cleared your calendar for the day.”

“Maggie, you can’t take it upon yourself to do that.” I’m not nice about it as alarms sound in my head.

I’m being fired.

“Last I checked, all of us answer to the health commissioner, yourself included,” she says, the George Washington Masonic Memorial ghostly up ahead, its holiday red and green lights barely visible. “He needs to see you in Richmond.”

That’s who she was on the phone with in the corridor earlier. I suspected as much, and it’s all I can do to keep my temper in check.

“What’s so urgent that it requires my showing up in person?” I ask, knowing the answer.

He wants to fire me to my face. Probably before an audience. And he’ll make sure his pet journalists blast out the story everywhere. In fact, they probably already know it’s coming.

“What I can tell you is it’s important enough for him to rearrange his impossible schedule,” she says as if she really might still work for him. “He’ll expect you at ten A.M.”

“It will take forever getting to Richmond that time of day,” I reply. “He knows that better than anyone, and so do you.”

I end the call, angrily dropping my phone in my lap.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough.” My frustration boils over.

“We’ll have to leave before the sun comes up.” Marino assumes he’s going with me, and I won’t argue.

“As if I have time for this!”

“Nobody does. We’ll be in the car most of the day, and that’s exactly what he wants.”

“To harass, to show how powerful he is, ordering me around. All right then, if that’s what he wants?” I check the weather app on my phone.