PATRICIA CORNWELL. FROM POTTER’S FIELD

‘Did he pay cash for the books?’ I asked.

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Then he leaves the museum and gets a summons in the subway station,’ Marino said.

She nodded. ‘I’m sure you’re interested in the identification he produced.’

‘Yo, lay it on.’

‘The name on his driver’s license was Frank Benelli, Italian male thirty-three years old from Verona.’

‘Verona?’ I asked. ‘That’s interesting, my ancestors are from there.’

Marino and the commander looked briefly at me.

‘You saying this squirrel spoke with an Italian accent?’ Marino asked.

‘The officer recalled that his English was broken. He had a heavy Italian accent, and I’m assuming Gault does not?’ Commander Penn said.

‘Gault was born in Albany, Georgia,’ I said. ‘So no, he does not have an Italian accent, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t imitate one.’

I explained to her what Wesley and I had discovered last night at Scaletta.

‘Has your niece confirmed that your charge card is stolen?’ she asked.

‘I have not been able to get hold of Lucy yet.’

She pinched off a small piece of a cookie and slipped it between her lips, then said, ‘The officer who wrote the summons grew up in an Italian family here in New York, Dr. Scarpetta. He thought the man’s accent seemed authentic. Gault must be very good.’

‘I’m sure he is.’

‘Did he ever take Italian in high school or college?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But he didn’t finish college.’

‘Where did he go?’

‘A private college in North Carolina called Davidson.’

‘It’s very expensive and difficult to get into,’ she said.

‘Yes. His family has money and Gault is extremely intelligent. From what I understand, he lasted about a year.’

‘Kicked out?’ I could tell she was fascinated by him.

‘As I understand it.’

‘Why?’

‘I believe he violated the honor code.’

‘I know it’s hard to believe,’ Marino said sarcastically.

‘And then what? Another college?’ Commander Penn inquired.

‘I don’t think so,’ I said.

‘Has anyone gone down to Davidson to ask about him?’ She looked skeptical, as if those who had been working this case had not done enough.

‘I don’t know if anyone has, but I doubt it, to be frank.’

‘He’s only in his early thirties. We’re not talking that long ago. People there should remember him.’

Marino had begun picking apart his Styrofoam coffee cup. He looked up at the commander. ‘You checked out this Benelli guy to see if he really exists?’

‘We’re in the process. So far we have no confirmation,’ she replied. ‘These things can be slow, especially this time of year.’

‘The Bureau has a legal attache at the American Embassy in Rome,’ I said. ‘That might expedite the matter.’

We talked a while longer, and then Commander Penn walked us to the door.

‘Dr. Scarpetta,’ she said, ‘I wonder if I could have a quick word with you before you go.’

Marino glanced at both of us and said, as if the question had been posed to him, ‘Sure. Go ahead, I’ll be out here.’

Commander Penn shut her door.

‘I’m wondering if we could get together later,’ she said to me.

I hesitated. ‘I suppose that would be possible. What did you have in mind?’

‘Might you be free for dinner tonight, say around seven? I thought we could talk some more and relax.’ She smiled.

I had hoped Wesley and I could have dinner together. I told her, ‘That is very gracious of you. Of course I will come.’

She slipped a card from a pocket and handed it to me. ‘My address,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you then.’

Marino did not ask what Commander Penn had said to me, but it was clear he wondered and was bothered that he had been excluded from the communication.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked as we were shown to the elevator.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Everything is not all right. If it were, we would not be in New York right now.’

‘Hell,’ he said sourly, ‘I quit having holidays when I became a cop. Holidays aren’t for people like us.’

‘Well, they should be,’ I said, waving at a cab that was already engaged.

‘That’s bullshit. How many times have you been called out on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Thanksgiving, Labor Day weekend?’

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