Autopsy (Kay Scarpetta, #25)(8)

“That she’s a homicide, a sexually violent one,” I reply.

“Yeah, I think the whole world knows that much,” he says, and I don’t respond.

He and Lucy would be aware of what’s been in the media, which is very little, I’ve made sure. They’ve not seen the body from Friday night, and prior to this I’ve not mentioned the case to them. It’s none of their concern, neither of them officially involved. Except now they could be.

“Some job we did.” He tightly grips the steering wheel, the veins roping in his thick wrists, and he was formidable enough before dating my sister.

But now he’s quite the land mass, spending hours daily on cardio and lifting weights, and I have to say he’s never looked fitter.

“What a way to start a business, right?” He blows out an exasperated clove-scented breath.

“You need to calm down, and let’s not overrun our headlights. Maybe quit tailgating so we don’t rear-end someone,” I continue backseat driving.

This stretch of King Street is heavily wooded and residential, and gracious homes on generous lots are decorated for the season. Lampposts and columns are wrapped in blue and white lights that flicker in the soupy overcast. Christmas trees glitter through windows, candles glowing cozily.

“I’m pissed at myself for not paying enough attention. Now I sure wish I had,” Marino says. “But I couldn’t have seen this coming. If Jinx Slater did it, how’d he find her? She’d gone to a lot of trouble making sure nobody knows where she is.”

“Or that’s what she told you,” I reply. “But assuming she’s telling the truth, he might have tracked her down, that wouldn’t surprise me. It’s getting harder to hide in this high-tech world with cameras watching from everywhere including outer space.”

“But I don’t know why she’d turn off the alarm and open the door, assuming that’s what she did,” he says.

As afraid of him as she claimed to be, she would have freaked out if he showed up at the guard gate, much less on her doorstep. She would have called 911, Marino supposes.

“Or she could have called me for that matter,” he adds, his four-wheeler growling over pavement, the oversize tires splashing through puddles. “She had my number, and Dorothy and I were home last Friday night. I would have been there in two minutes.”

“So far, Gwen’s phone hasn’t shown up.” I tell him that much while scrolling through messages I’ll deal with later. “It sounds like she has an alarm system, and that’s important. What about cameras around the townhome’s perimeter or at least covering the entrance?”

“We recommended it but she was worried about hacking. She said she keeps the alarm on all the time while she’s home.”

“Did she have the security system installed herself?”

“It was already there.”

“I wonder who else has the code.”

“I asked her that. She said only the landlord in case of emergencies. But who knows who that person might have given it to,” Marino says.

“Exactly. And you have to tell August Ryan what you’re telling me,” I reply.

“And he needs to listen and not be a jerk. I’m not sure that’s possible, it almost never is when you deal with the Feds.”

“Have you two met?”

“Not yet but he could use my assistance,” Marino replies. “I’m familiar with Gwen’s townhome unless she’s changed it since Lucy and I did a security evaluation of it. I know exactly what was in there as of pretty recently.”

“Including your DNA,” I remind him, as if the situation isn’t tricky enough.

“I’ll be up front about it when you and me get there,” Marino says. “It shouldn’t stop me from looking around, hopefully before a herd of cops go tromping through.”

“I’m not sure how I’m going to explain showing up with a private investigator in tow. Or even worse, having one chauffeuring me.”

“I’m not chauffeuring. Right now, I’m your friggin’ protection detail,” he retorts, and it isn’t only right now.

He’s acted like this for as long as we’ve known each other. My personal well-being and business somehow end up in his self-determined jurisdiction.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate you looking after me,” I reply as diplomatically as I can. “But my first month on the job, I’m having a hard enough time with people around here, and this isn’t going to help.”

Flipping on his strobe lights as if he’s a cop again, he guns around the Mini Cooper in front of us.

“Well, I don’t give a crap what August Ryan thinks about my showing up, let’s start with that,” Marino says aggressively. “What counts is someone’s been murdered. Probably my neighbor, and out of self-protection if nothing else I’ve got a right to know what’s going on.”

“Legally, you don’t.” I inform him of how things work because he seems to have forgotten.

“You gonna tell me the details so I know what we’re dealing with?”

“You know I can’t.”

“You can do what you want, Doc.”

“Not without consequences.”

“You’re the chief medical examiner of the entire Commonwealth,” he says. “Just like the old days. It’s up to you.”