cpatricia.unnaturalexposure-第8章

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　'My　address　in　AOL　wouldn't　be　hard　to　guess。　It's　my　name。'
　'Jesus；　I　can't　believe　you　would　do　that；'　he　erupted　again。　'That's　like　using　your　date　of　birth　for　your　burglar　alarm　code。'
　'I　use　e…mail　almost　exclusively　to　municate　with　medical　examiners；　people　in　the　Health　Department；　the　police。　They　need　something　easy　to　remember。　Besides；'　I　added　as　his　stare　continued　to　pass　judgment　on　me；　'it's　never　been　a　problem。'
　'Well；　now　it　sure　as　hell　is；'　he　said；　looking　at　the　printout。　'Good　news　is；　maybe　we'll　find　something　in　here　that　will　help。　Maybe　he　left　a　trail　in　the　puter。'
　'On　the　Web；'　I　said。
　'Yeah；　whatever；'　he　said。　'Maybe　you　should　call　Lucy。'
　'Benton　should　do　that；'　I　reminded　him。　'I　can't　ask　her　help　on　a　case　just　because　I'm　her　aunt。'
　'So　I　guess　I　got　to　call　him　about　that；　too。'　He　picked　his　way　around　my　clutter；　walking　to　the　doorway。　'I　hope　you've　got　some　beer　in　this　joint。'　He　stopped　and　turned　toward　me。　'You　know；　Doc；　it　ain't　none　of　my　business；　but　you　got　to　talk　to　him　eventually。'
　'You're　right；'　I　said。　'It's　none　of　your　business。'
　
　3
　
　THE　NEXT　MORNING；　I　woke　up　to　the　muffled　drumming　of　heavy　rain　on　the　roof　and　the　persistent　beeping　of　my　alarm。　The　hour　was　early　for　a　day　that　I　was　supposed　to　be　taking　off　from　work；　and　it　struck　me　that　during　the　night　the　month　had　turned　into　November。　Winter　was　not　far　away；　another　year　gone。　Opening　shades；　I　looked　out　at　the　day。　Petals　from　my　roses　were　beaten　to　the　ground；　the　river　swollen　and　flowing　around　rocks　that　looked　black。
　I　felt　bad　about　Marino。　I　had　been　impatient　with　him　when　I　had　sent　him　home　without　a　beer　last　night。　But　I　did　not　want　to　talk　with　him　about　matters　he　would　not　understand。　For　him；　it　was　simple。　I　was　divorced。　Benton　Wesley's　wife　had　left　him　for　another　man。　We'd　been　having　an　affair；　so　we　might　as　well　get　married。　For　a　while　I　had　gone　along　with　the　plan。　Last　fall　and　winter；　Wesley　and　I　went　skiing；　diving；　we　shopped；　cooked　in　and　out　and　even　worked　in　my　yard。　We　did　not　get　along　worth　a　damn。
　In　fact；　I　didn't　want　him　in　my　house　any　more　than　I　wanted　Marino　sitting　in　my　chair。　When　Wesley　moved　a　piece　of　furniture　or　even　returned　dishes　and　silverware　to　the　wrong　cabinets　and　drawers；　I　felt　a　secret　anger　that　surprised　and　dismayed　me。　I　had　never　believed　that　our　relationship　was　right　when　he　was　still　married；　but　back　then　we　had　enjoyed　each　other　more；　especially　in　bed。　I　feared　that　my　failure　to　feel　what　I　thought　I　should　revealed　a　trait　that　I　could　not　bear　to　see。
　I　drove　to　my　office　with　the　windshield　wipers　working　hard　as　the　relentless　downpour　thrummed　the　roof。　Traffic　was　thin　because　it　was　barely　seven；　and　Richmond's　downtown　skyline　came　into　view　slowly　and　by　degrees　in　the　watery　fog。　I　thought　of　the　photograph　again。　I　envisioned　it　slowly　painting　down　my　screen；　and　the　hairs　on　my　arms　stood　up　as　a　chill　crept　over　me。　I　was　disturbed　in　a　way　I　could　not　define　as　it　occurred　to　me　for　the　first　time　that　the　person　who　had　sent　it　might　be　someone　I　knew。
　Turning　on　the　Seventh　Street　exit；　I　wound　around　Shockoe　Slip；　with　its　wet　cobblestones　and　trendy　restaurants　that　were　dark　at　this　hour。　I　passed　parking　lots　barely　beginning　to　fill；　and　turned　into　the　one　behind　my　four…story　stucco　building。　I　couldn't　believe　it　when　I　found　a　television　news　van　waiting　in　my　parking　place；　which　was　clearly　designated　by　a　sign　that　read　CHIEF　MEDICAL　EXAMINER。　The　crew　knew　that　if　they　waited　there　long　enough；　they　would　be　rewarded　with　me。
　I　pulled　up　close　and　motioned　for　them　to　move　as　the　van's　doors　slid　open。　A　cameraman　in　a　rain　suit　jumped　out；　ing　my　way；　a　reporter　in　tow　with　a　microphone。　I　rolled　my　window　down　several　inches。
　'Move；'　I　said；　and　I　wasn't　nice　about　it。　'You're　in　my　parking　place。'
　They　did　not　care　as　someone　else　got　out　with　lights。　For　a　moment　I　sat　staring；　anger　turning　me　hard　like　amber。　The　reporter　was　blocking　my　door；　her　microphone　shoved　through　the　opening　in　the　window。
　'Dr　Scarpetta；　can　you　verify　that　the　Butcher　has　struck　again？'　she　asked；　loudly；　as　the　camera　rolled　and　lights　burned。
　'Move　your　van；'　I　said　with　iron　calm　as　I　stared　right　at　her　and　the　camera。
　'Is　it　in　fact　a　torso　that　was　found？'　Rain　was　running　off　her　hood　as　she　pushed　the　microphone　in　farther。
　'I'm　going　to　ask　you　one　last　time　to　move　your　van　out　of　my　parking　place；'　I　said　like　a　judge　about　to　cite　contempt　of　court。　'You　are　trespassing。'
　The　cameraman　found　a　new　angle；　zooming　in；　harsh　lights　in　my　eyes。
　'Was　it　dismembered　like　the　others　。　。　。　？'
　She　jerked　the　microphone　away　just　in　time　as　my　window　went　up。　I　shoved　the　car　in　gear　and　began　backing；　the　crew　scrambling　out　of　the　way　as　I　made　a　three…hundred…and…sixty…degree　turn。　Tires　spun　and　skidded　as　I　parked　right　behind　the　van；　pinning　it　between　my　Mercedes　and　the　building。
　'Wait　a　minute！'
　'Hey！　You　can't　do　that！'
　Their　faces　were　disbelieving　as　I　got　out。　Not　bothering　with　an　umbrella；　I　ran　for　the　door　and　unlocked　it。
　'Hey！'　the　protests　continued。　'We　can't　get　out！'
　Inside　the　bay；　water　was　beaded　on　the　oversized　maroon　station　wagon　and　dripping　to　the　concrete　floor。　I　opened　another　door　and　walked　into　the　corridor；　looking　around　to　see　who　else　was　here。　White　tile　was　spotless；　the　air　heavy　with　industrial　strength　deodorizer；　and　as　I　walked　to　the　morgue　office；　the　massive　stainless　steel　refrigerator　door　sucked　open。
　'Good　morning！'　Wingo　said　with　a　surprised　grin。　'You're　early。'
　'Thanks　for　bringing　the　wagon　in　out　of　the　rain；'　I　said。
　'No　more　cases　ing　in　that　I　know　of；　so　I　didn't　think　it　would　hurt　to　stick　it　in　the　bay。'
　'Did　you　see　anybody　out　there　when　you　drove　it？'　I　asked。
　He　looked　puzzled。　'No。　But　that　was　about　an　hour　ago。'
　Wingo　was　the　only　member　of　my　staff　who　routinely　got　to　the　office　earlier　than　I　did。　He　was　lithe　and　attractive；　with　pretty　features　and　shaggy　dark　hair。　An　obsessive…pulsive；　he　ironed　his　scrubs；　washed　the　wagon　and　anatomical　vans　several　times　a　week；　and　was　forever　polishing　stainless　steel　until　it　shone　like　mirrors。　His　job　was　to　run　the　morgue；　and　he　did　so　with　the　precision　and　pride　of　a　military　leader。　Carelessness　and　callousness　were　not　allowed　down　here　by　either　one　of　us；　and　no　one　dared　dispose　of　hazardous　waste　or　make　sophomoric　jokes　about　the　dead。
　'The　landfill　case　is　still　in　the　fridge；'　Wingo　said　to　me。　'Do　you　want　me　to　bring　it　out？'
　'Let's　wait　until　after　staff　meeting。'　I　said。　'The　longer　she's　refrigerated；　the　better；　and　I　don't　want　anybody　wandering　in　here　to　look。'
　'That　won't　happen；'　he　said　as　if　I　had　just　implied　he　might　be　delinquent　in　his　duties。
　'I　don't　even　want　anybody　on　the　staff　wandering　in　out　of　curiosity。'
　'Oh。'　Anger　flashed　in　his　eyes。　'I　just　don't　understand　people。'
　He　never　would；　because　he　was　not　like　them。
　'I'll　let　you　alert　security；'　I　said。　'The　media's　already　in　the　parking　lot。'
　'You　got　to　be　kidding。　This；　early？'
　'Channel　Eight　was　waiting　for　me　when　I　pulled　in。'　I　handed　him　the　key　to　my　car。　'Give　them　a　few　minutes；　and　then　let　them　go。'
　'What　do　you　mean；　let　them　go？'　He　frowned；　staring　at　the　remote　control　key　in　his　hand。
　'They're　in　my　parking　place。'　I　headed　toward　the　elevator。
　'They're　what？'
　'You'll　see。'　I　boarded。　'If　they　so　much　as　touch　my　car；　I'll　charge　them　with　trespassing　and　malicious　property　damage。　Then　I'm　going　to　have　the　A。G。's　office　call　their　station's　general　manager。　I　might　sue。'　I　smiled　at　him　through　shutting　doors。
　My　office　was　on　the　second　floor　of　the　Consolidated　Lab　Building；　which　had　been　constructed　in　the　seventies　and　was　soon　to　be　abandoned　by　us　and　the　scientists　upstairs。　At　last；　we　were　to　get　spacious　quarters　in　the　city's　new　Biotech　Park　just　off　Broad　Street；　not　far　from　the　Marriott　and　the　Coliseum。
　Construction　was　already　under　way；　and　I　spent　far　too　much　time　arguing　over　details；　blueprints