"Blow Fly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cornwell Patricia)

21

BENTON GETS UP from the chair and slips his hands into his pockets.

"People from the past," he says. "We live many lives, Pete, and the past is a death. Something over. Something that can't come back. We move on and reinvent ourselves."

"What a load of crap. You've been spending too much time alone," Marino says in disgust as fear chills his heart. "You're making me sick. I'm glad as hell Scarpetta ain't here to see this. Or maybe she ought to, so she'd finally get over you like you've obviously gotten over her. Goddamn it, can't you turn up the air conditioner in this joint?"

Marino strides over to the window unit and turns it on high.

"You know what she's doing these days, or don't you give a flying fuck? Nothing. She's a goddamn consultant. Got fired as the Chief. Can you believe it? The fucking governor of Virginia got rid of her because of political shit.

"And getting fired in the middle of a scandal don't help you get much business," he rants on. "When it comes to her, no one's hiring, unless it's some pissant case in some place that can't afford anyone, so she does it for nothing. Like some stupid drug overdose in Baton Rouge. A stupid-ass drug OD…"

"Louisiana?" Benton wanders toward a window and looks out.

"Yeah, the coroner from there called me this morning before I left Richmond. Some guy named Lanier. An old drug OD. I knew nothing about it, so then he wanted to know if the Doc's doing private work and basically wanted me to vouch for her character. I was pretty fucking pissed. But that's what it's come down to. She needs fucking references."

"Louisiana?" Benton says again, as if there must be some mistake.

"You know any other state with a city named Baton Rouge?" Marino snidely asks above the noise of the air conditioner.

"Not a good place for her," Benton says oddly.

"Yeah, well, New York, D.C., L.A. ain't calling. It's just a damn good thing the Doc's got her own money, otherwise she'd be…"

"There are serial murders going on down there…" Benton starts to say.

"Well, the task force working them ain't the one calling her. This hasn't got nothing to do with those ladies disappearing. This is chicken shit. A cold case. And I'm just guessing the coroner will call her. And knowing her, she'll help him out."

"An area where ten women have vanished, and the coroner calls about a cold case? Why now?"

"I don't know. A tip."

"What tip?"

"I don't know!"

"I want to know why that drug OD's so important all of a sudden," Benton persists.

"Are your antennas in a knot?" Marino exclaims. "You're missing the fucking point. The Doc's life has turned to shit. She's gone from being Babe Ruth to playing Little League."

"Louisiana's not a good place for her." Benton says it again. "Why did the coroner call you? Just for a reference?"

Marino shakes his head, as if trying to wake up. He rubs his face. Benton's losing his grip.

"The coroner called wanting my help with the case," he says.

"Your help?"

"Now what the hell is that supposed to mean? You don't think I could help somebody with a case? I could help any goddamn…"

"Of course you could. So why aren't you helping the Baton Rouge coroner?"

"Because I don't know anything about that case! Jesus, you're making me crazy!"

"The Last Precinct could help down there."

"Would you fucking give it a rest? The coroner didn't seem all that hot and bothered by it, just indicated he might want the Doc's medical opinion…"

"Their legal system is based on the Napoleonic Code."

Marino has no idea what he's talking about. "What's Napoleon got to do with anything!"

"The French legal system," Benton says. "The only state in America that has a legal system based on the French legal system instead of the English. Baton Rouge has more unsolved homicides of women per capita than any other city in America."

"All right, already. So it ain't a nice place."

"She should not go down there. Especially alone. Not under any circumstances. Make sure of it, Pete." Benton is still looking out the window. "Trust me on this one."

"Trust you. What a joke."

"The least you can do is take care of her."

Marino is incensed, staring at Bentons back.

"She can't go anywhere near him."

"Who the hell are you talking about?" Marino asks, his frustration intensifying.

Benton is a stranger. Marino doesn't know this man.

"Wolfieboy? Jesus. I thought we were talking about a drug overdose case in Cajun country," Marino complains.

"Keep her out of there."

"You got no right asking me anything, especially about her."

"He's fixated on her."

"What the hell does he have to do with Louisiana?" Marino steps closer to him and scrutinizes his face, as if straining to read something he can't quite see.

"This is a continuation of a power struggle he lost with her in the past. And he intends to win it now if it's the last thing he does."

"Don't sound to me like he's gonna win a goddamn thing when he gets pumped full of enough juice to kill a herd of horses."

"I'm not talking about Jean-Baptiste. Have you forgotten the other Chandonne, his brother? The Last Precinct should help the coroner. She shouldn't."

Marino doesn't listen. He feels as if he's sitting in the backseat of a moving car that has no one at the wheel.

"The Doc knows what Wolfman wants of her." Marino sticks with one subject-the one that interests him and makes sense. "She won't mind giving him the needle, and I'll be right there behind the smoky glass, smiling."

"Have you asked her if she minds?" Benton looks out at another spring day dying gently. Tender, vivid greens are dipped in golden sunlight, and shadows deepen closer to the ground.

"I don't need to ask."

"I see. So you haven't discussed it with her. I'm not surprised. It wouldn't be like her to discuss it with you."

The insult is subtle but stings Marino like a sea nettle. He has never been intimate with Kay Scarpetta. No one has ever been as intimate with her, not the way Benton was. She hasn't told Marino how she feels about being an executioner. She doesn't discuss her feelings with him.

"I've depended on you to take care of her," Benton says.

The air seems to heat up, both of them sweating and silent.

"I know how you feel, Pete," Benton softly says. "I've always known."

"You don't know nothing."

"Take care of her."

"I came here so you could start doing that," Marino says.