There was no heat. I stripped, only to discover there was no hot water. Cleaning up as best I could, I hurried into a sweat suit, after-ski boots and cap. By now it was one-thirty and Lucy was probably at Mant’s house. I hadn’t even noted the tomato sauce yet. Exhausted, I was desperate for a long hot shower or bath.
Because I could not get rid of him, Green walked me to my car and helped place my dive gear into the trunk. By now the johnboat had been loaded on a trailer and should have been enroute to my office in Norfolk. I did not see Jerod or Ki Soo and was sorry I could not say good-bye to them.
“When will you do the autopsy?” Green asked me.
I looked at him, and he was so typical of weak people with power or rank. He had done his best to scare me off, and when that had accomplished nothing he had decided we would be friends.
“I will do it now.” I started the car and turned the heat up high.
He looked surprised. “Your office is open today?”
“I just opened it,” I said.
I had not shut the door, and he propped his arms on top of the frame and stared down at me. He was so close, I could see broken blood vessels along his cheekbones and the wings of his nose, and changes in pigmentation from the sun.
“You will call me with your report?”
“When I determine cause and manner of death, certainly I will discuss them with you,” I said.
“Manner?” He frowned. “You mean there’s some question that he’s an accidental death?”
“There can and will always be questions, Captain Green.
It is my job to question.”
“Well, if you find a knife or bullet in his back, I hope you’ll call me first,” he said with quiet irony as he gave me one of his cards.
I drove away looking up the number for Mant morgue assistant and hoping I would find him home. I did.
“Danny, it’s Dr. Scarpetta,” I said.
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” he said, surprised.
Christmas music sounded in the background and I heard the voices of people arguing. Danny Webster was in his early twenties and still lived with his family.
“I’m so sorry to bother you on New Year’s Eve,” I said, “but we’ve got a case I need to autopsy without delay. I’m on my way to the office now.”
“You need me?” He sounded quite open to the idea.
“If you could help me, I can’t tell you how much I would appreciate it. There’s a johnboat and a body headed to I the office as we speak.”
“No problem, Dr. Scarpetta,” he cheerfully said. “I’ll be right there.”
I tried my house, but Lucy did not pick up, so I entered a code to check the answering machine’s messages. There were two, both left by friends of Mant, expressing their sympathy. Snow had begun drifting down from a leaden sky, the interstate busy with people driving faster than was safe. I wondered if my niece had gotten delayed and why she hadn’t called. Lucy was twenty-three and barely graduated from the FBI Academy. I still worried about her as if she needed my protection.
My Tidewater District Office was located in a small, crowded annex on the grounds of Sentara Norfolk General Hospital. We shared the building with the Department of Health, which unfortunately included the office of Shell Fish Sanitation. So between the stench of decomposing bodies and decaying fish, the parking lot was not a good place to be, no matter the time of year or day. Danny’s ancient Toyota was already there, and when I unlocked the bay I was pleased to find the johnboat waiting.
I lowered the door behind me and walked around, looking. The long low-pressure hose had been neatly coiled, an d as I had requested one severed end and the regulator it was attached to were sealed inside plastic. The other end was still connected to the small compressor strapped to the inner tube. Nearby were a gallon of gasoline and the expected miscellaneous assortment of dive and boat equipment, including extra weights, a tank containing three thousand pounds per square inch of air, a paddle, life preserver, flashlight, blanket and flare gun.