“If someone switched inmates,” I said. “And if Waddell is free and someone else was put to death, please tell me why.”
Marino spooned more sugar into his coffee.
“A motive, for God’s sake. Marino, what would it be?”
He looked up. “I don’t know why.”
Just then, the door to my study opened and both of us turned as Lucy walked out. She came into the living room and sat on the side of the hearth opposite Marino, who had his back to the fire, elbows on his knees.
“What can you tell me about AFIS?” she asked me as if Marino were not in the room.
“What is it you wish to know?” I said.
“The language. And is it run on a mainframe.”
“I don’t know the technical details. Why?”
“I can find out if files have been altered.”
I felt Marino’s eyes on me.
“You can’t break into the State Police computer, Lucy.”
“I probably could, but I’m not necessarily advocating that. There may be some other way to gain access.”
Marino turned to her. “You’re saying you could tell if Waddell’s records was changed in AFIS?”
“Yes. I’m saying I could tell if his records were changed.”
Marino’s jaw muscles flexed. “Seems to me if someone was slick enough to do it, they’d be slick enough to make sure some computer nerd didn’t catch on.”
“I’m not a computer nerd. I’m not a nerd of any description.”
They fell silent, parked on either end of the hearth like mismatched bookends.
“You can’t go into AFIS,” I said to Lucy.
She looked impassively at me.
“Not alone,” I added. “Not unless there is a safe way to grant you access. And even if there is, I think I’d rather you stay out of it.”
“I don’t think you’d really rather that. If something was tampered with, you know I’d find out, Aunt Kay.”
“The kid’s got a god complex.”
Marino got up from the hearth.
Lucy said to him, “Could you hit the twelve on the clock over there on the wall? If you drew your gun right this minute and took aim?”
“I ain’t interested in shooting up your aunt’s house in order to prove something to you.”
“Could you hit the twelve from where you’re standing?”
“You’re damn right.”
“You’re positive.”
“Yeah, I’m positive.”
“The lieutenant’s got a god complex,” Lucy said to me.
Marino turned to the fire, but not before I caught a flicker of a smile.
“All Neils Vander has is a workstation and printer,” Lucy said. “He’s connected to the State Police computer by modem. Has that always been the case?”
“No,” I replied. “Before he moved into the new building, there was much more equipment involved.”
“Describe it.”
“Well, there were several different components. But the actual computer was much like the one Margaret has in her office.”
Realizing Lucy had not been inside Margaret’s office, I added, “A mini.”
Firelight cast moving shadows on her face. “I’ll bet JON is a mainframe that isn’t a mainframe. I’ll bet it’s a series of minis strung together all of it connected by UNIX or some other multiuser, multitasking environment. If you got me access to the system, I could probably do it from your terminal here in the house, Aunt Kay.”
“I don’t want anything traced back to me,” I said with feeling.
“Nothing would be traced back to you. I would dial into your computer downtown, then go through a series of gateways, set up a really complicated link. By the time all was said and done, I’d be very hard to track.”
Marino headed to the bathroom.
“He acts like he lives here,” Lucy said.
“Not quite,” I replied.
Several minutes later, I walked Marino out. The crusty snow of the lawn seemed to radiate light, and the air was sharp in my lungs like the first hit of a menthol cigarette.
“I’d love it if you would join Lucy and me for Christmas dinner,” I said from the doorway.
He hesitated, looking at his car parked on the street. “That’s mighty nice of you, but I can’t make it, Doc.”
“I wish you did not dislike Lucy so much,’ I said, hurt.