Autopsy (Kay Scarpetta, #25)(79)

“Yeah, I think we know the drill. We’ll show up with our hair on fire only to have him make us wait until hell freezes over,” Marino predicts, and I wish he wouldn’t rile me further. “Then he’ll take maybe two minutes to say whatever it is to dress you down, make you squirm, trying to put you in your place for once.”

“That’s enough. You’re going to make me crazy.”

“Payback’s a bitch, right?”

“Paying me back for what?”

“For being you, and not kowtowing to him. Most of all, he can’t stand it that you can’t be bought.”

“Well, he’s about to like me a lot less,” I decide. “It’s looking like tomorrow is predicted to be clear and mostly sunny with a high of forty-eight degrees. It will be nice but windy until evening when we’re supposed to get light showers.”

I EXPLAIN WHAT I’M considering while sending Lucy a text, wondering if her helicopter might be available early morning. If she wouldn’t mind giving Marino and me a lift, especially if we can use Reagan National, as it’s just minutes from home.

“Of course, that will require a TSA ride-along because of the restricted airspace around here,” I’m saying to Marino. “But she’s used to that.”

“I just hope she’s not rusty.” He slows to a stop at the railroad crossing near the metro station, the ground fog moiling like a witch’s brew. “She hasn’t been flying all that much since moving here. Not like she used to.”

Looking both ways to make sure nothing is coming, he crosses the train tracks, slowly bumping over them. They’re the same ones that several miles north of here parallel the Mount Vernon Trail where Cammie and Gwen used to jog.

“Since when have you ever doubted Lucy’s piloting skills?” I ask Marino, and it’s not easy for him to talk about how bad he feels.

He’s known my niece since she was ten, and taught her everything she knows, to hear him talk. All of us have been through a lot together but he’s never seen her this deeply hurt, and it’s intolerable to him that he can’t make the pain go away.

“Look, let’s be honest. She’s not been flying as much since the pandemic started, Doc. You know, she’s not been herself.” What he means is that after she lost her family, she seemed to lose her mojo.

That’s the word he’s used repeatedly to describe her lackluster interest in what she used to be passionate about. Like flying the helicopter that spends too much time in the hangar. And riding the motorcycle she keeps in Marino’s garage. Or driving her supercars that currently are in storage. Like so many things.

Roger that, she texts me back with a thumbs-up emoji, and I’m happy about it for multiple reasons.

“I believe we have a flying horse lined up for the morning,” I announce.

“Your situation probably won’t be made any better if certain people find out you got there by helicopter.” He can’t help but smirk.

“All the more reason to do it,” I reply as we stop at a red light on Prince Street.

The Hilton Garden Inn is ahead, and since leaving my office almost twenty minutes ago, we’ve not managed to get very far.

“Especially after you were just at the White House,” Marino adds. “Talk about pissing people off. Most of all, Elvin the Chipmunk.”

“How do you know where I was?” I’ve about decided there’s no such thing as a secret anymore.

“What I was getting around to telling you a minute ago is that I stopped by your office earlier, not knowing you were out of town.”

“Benton and I were called to a meeting with no advance notice.” I don’t need to tell Marino that I can’t discuss it.

“Maybe you don’t remember because you were still sort of out of it,” he says. “But when I was leaving your house last night with the wine bottle and all the rest, you told me you were going to work today as usual. You were sure you’d be fine.”

“That was the plan before the Secret Service called us,” I reply as the light turns green.

“Figuring you were at the office, I thought I’d go ahead and get started in my new position as your trusty forensic operations specialist. It didn’t go over very well.”

“Who told you I was at the White House?” I ask as Maggie roosts in my thoughts. “I didn’t mention it to anyone. Not even to Dorothy and Lucy.”

“Your secretary, who do you think? The same person who wouldn’t give me a key to your building and said there’s no room for me when I’m helping out.”

“We have plenty of room.” I remind him of the positions my predecessor didn’t bother to fill. “We have empty offices and parking places. Of course, I’ll get you a key, and I’m sorry for how Maggie treated you but would have predicted it.”

“She’s got to control everything, that’s all I’ve got to say.”

“I imagine she’s had to be that way. In many ways she was the de facto chief while Elvin did his politicking and drank his martinis after hours. Somebody had to deal with the day-to-day, take phone calls and answer questions.”

“Like the house mouse who thinks she runs the police department,” Marino says as we drive through the heart of the historic district, surrounded by our neighborhood haunts.