Autopsy (Kay Scarpetta, #25)(95)

I’d prefer not advertising that I was just fired. But in typical Elvin Reddy fashion, he’s made sure I don’t have to worry about that. Lucy sends me a link, and already it’s hit the news. Only I’ve not been fired. It would seem I’ve resigned, and how clever making it appear the job wasn’t what I thought.

I’ve made mistakes, found the work overwhelming while managing to alienate my staff and violating protocols hand over fist, in the process creating sensational publicity. I’m guilty of nepotism, of working hand in glove with a former homicide detective who’s married to my sister. The list of my failures and complaints is long, and when we reach the helicopter, I can tell everybody knows.

Clare has nothing to say, and our escort Bob is quiet during the flight back to Reagan National. Marino bites his tongue until we’re alone inside his Raptor truck, driving away from the Marine Air Terminal as more bad weather rolls in. It’s close to four o’clock, the sun going down as we follow I-395 South, the day ending as it began.

Benton and I talked briefly before he boarded his flight, and he won’t be back tonight. Things aren’t looking great for Jinx Slater, who’s not entirely truthful, what a shock. He wasn’t in Massachusetts last Friday night, Benton told me. And he wasn’t with a new girlfriend.

On Thanksgiving Day, Jinx drove from Boston to Bethesda, Maryland. The next day, he drove back. No one knows what he was up to, possibly it’s unrelated to Gwen’s murder. But he was close enough to Old Town that he could have found some other means to get to her.

“He wouldn’t want to use his own car if he planned to whack her,” Marino says. “Maybe he rented something, paid cash, no paperwork, I don’t know. Or stole something, then ditched it after he was done.”

“That’s assuming he killed her,” I reply. “And if he did, how does that explain Cammie?”

“It wouldn’t unless she was killed by someone else.”

“I suppose that’s possible.” I’m depressed by it all, and as full of misgivings as I’ve ever been. “I might be wrong, Marino. I may have gotten carried away by a penny left on a rail.”

“Hey, we had to look, Doc.”

He calls Dorothy, leaving me to stew over what to do, and I don’t know when I’ve been so discouraged. It’s possible that I might have accused Elvin falsely. What if Cammie wasn’t murdered after all, and Gwen was taken out by a spurned lover or the Russians?

“. . . About to drop her off now,” Marino is saying to my sister, and judging by his tone, she’s none too happy with him. “Yeah, I know I promised. But we’ll find time in the next day or two.”

Turning onto West Braddock at the Cadillac dealership, he ends the call, reminding me that my sister can’t tolerate being ignored. What he doesn’t yet know is that he’s seeing the first sign of her getting discontented. Next, her attention is prone to wander in a way that won’t make him happy.

“That’s the way she’s wired,” I remind him. “Which is also why she likes you retired.”

“I didn’t retire,” he fires back defensively.

“From some things you did,” I reply, and he’s not na?ve.

DOROTHY ISN’T THRILLED ABOUT him working with me. I’ve played peacemaker with them before and no doubt will again.

“Well, it gets old, Doc,” he says. “At times like this it wears me thin, having to pay so much attention when there’s big stuff going on. Murders, for example.”

“Take her out to dinner,” I suggest. “It’s early. Go back to my place, clean up and the two of you do something fun. The Oak Steakhouse, you know how much you two like that place.”

“With you getting freakin’ fired, how is anything supposed to feel like fun right now? Judas Priest! First our neighbor gets whacked. Now you lose your job. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to move here.”

“I’m sorry,” I reply with surprising composure. “I never asked you to come along for the ride, and this is why. And you’re going to have to explain to my sister what’s going on.”

“Okay, you’re right,” he says, and I’m glad Dorothy can’t hear his reluctance.

That’s part of the problem. I don’t want him preferring my company to hers, and it’s already happening now that we’re working together again.

“It’s not helpful if she resents me more than usual,” I remind him.

“I’ll drop you off, and take her out, but I really don’t like you driving home alone,” he says.

“I have to at some point,” I reply, texting Rex Bonetta that I’m pulling into the parking lot.

I’m hoping he’s still around, and he is. I ask if we can meet in the trace evidence lab, and he replies that he’s there now. Marino stops in his usual spot, and it’s not lost on me that Maggie’s Volvo is nowhere to be seen.

“She picked a good day to leave early,” I comment. “Not that I’d really want to run into her. You and Dorothy have a nice dinner.”

Shutting the door abruptly, I turn away from him, feeling shaky inside as if I might cry. I’m hoping he didn’t see the look on my face, everything catching up with me. Taking a deep breath, steadying myself, I unlock the pedestrian door. I pass through the empty bay, stepping inside the lower level where there’s a better phone signal, and I call Lucy.