Isle of Dogs. PATRICIA CORNWELL

“Doctor Sawamatsu,” the governor said, and the doctor would never forget what followed, “let me get your honest opinion about something. As you know, the chief medical-examiner is a woman I’m not especially fond of. All of her staff are Americans, and I’m wondering if I had a Japanese medical examiner in Virginia, would that make a difference?”

“To whom?”

“To these Japanese Fortune 500 companies who keep relocating or never relocate here to begin with–and to

Japanese citizens in general who have yet to discover Colonial Williamsburg, Jamestown, our many amusement parks and plantations and resorts and so on. As long as they speak English, and all of them do.”

Dr. Sawamatsu had to think quickly. He wanted to be a medical examiner in America more than anything else, but he was keenly aware that his patients were not important players in tourism or the business community and rarely had any influence whatsoever, either before they were carried into the morgue or after they left.

“When you have especially sensational cases, it most certainly would make a difference,” was Dr. Sawamatsu’s reply. “Because of the publicity and the message it would send if the medical examiner were Asian. In such a case, I believe my people would reciprocate and locate their companies and tourists here, providing you give them a tax incentive.”

“A tax incentive?”

“A big one.”

“What an unusual idea,” the governor said, and the minute he got off the phone, he told his cabinet that he planned to make all Japanese businesses and individuals exempt from state taxes. The result was stunning. Within a year, tourism flourished. Railways and Greyhound had to double their staffs and buses, and camera stores began popping up on every corner. Dr. Sawamatsu became an assistant chief medical examiner and received a personal thank-you note from Governor Crimm, which the young doctor framed and hung in his living room, next to the display case of souvenirs he had collected from dead patients who no longer had any need of artificial body parts, suicide or threatening notes, or the wreckage of whatever they had died in or the weapons that had killed them.

We need to get this body out of here,” Dr. Sawamatsu was telling the police as he crouched in the dark, pulling on surgical gloves. “Please do not let anyone else run over it.”

“Where’s the chief?” asked Detective Slipper, who did not share the governor’s high opinion of Dr. Sawamatsu. “Why isn’t Doctor Scarpetta here? She almost always responds personally to complicated, sensational crime scenes.”

“She went to court in Halifax and will not be back until very late,” Dr. Sawamatsu replied rather testily. “Now, we must get this body to the morgue right now.”

“I’m not sure we can retrieve the stretcher out of the river,” Detective Slipper hated to tell him. “We’d have to bring in divers.”

“No time. We wrap him in sheets and carry him to the ambulance,” Dr. Sawamatsu ordered. “I look at him in the morning. I can’t see anything out here.”

“Glad I’m not the only one,” Lamonia grumpily agreed.

She was in handcuffs and standing by her dented Dodge Dart, not sure what she had done to irritate everybody so much. Trader, of course, was not put out with Lamonia in the least. He was watching the activity through his shattered windshield after a fruitless hour of standing on a bridge, shining a powerful flashlight down into the water, trying to find the crabs and the trout. Trader was deeply grateful that Lamonia had virtually destroyed the crime scene. He watched the medical examiner and paramedics cover the dead fisherman with sheets and carry him away, tucking him into the back of the ambulance, which had a crunched-in tailgate. How could Trader’s luck have changed so dramatically, all in one day?

Major Trader’s career and entire life were in shambles and always had been, if he were honest with himself. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror and was faced with a reflection that might as well have been his maternal grandfather, also named Major. All of the men in his mother’s lineage had been called Major since Anne Bonny had had sex with a pirate and given birth to a son she named Major because it was a higher rank than captain, and she’d never met a pirate ranked higher than captain.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *