“Goddamn. All hell’s going to break loose,” he mutters in a cloud of smoke.
“I hope not,” I tell him.
“And your case? The French Werewolf, as some people are calling him?” Mitchell finally gets around to that. “What’s all that going to do to you, hmmm?” He sits down again and gives me one of his earnest looks.
I sip my whisky, wondering how to tell him. There really is no graceful way to launch it. “What’s that going to do to me?” I smile ruefully.
“Has to be awful. I’m just glad you nailed the son of a bitch.” Tears brighten his eyes and he quickly looks away. Mitchell is the prosecutor again. We are comfortable. We are old colleagues, old friends. I am touched, very touched, and at
the same time, depressed. The past is past. Mitchell is the governor. He will probably land in Washington next. I am the chief medical examiner of Virginia and he is my boss. I am about to tell him I have to give up my position as chief.
“I don’t think it’s in my best interest or the best interest of the commonwealth for me to continue to serve in my position.” I am out with it.
He just stares at me.
“I’ll submit this more formally, of course, in writing. But I’ve made my decision. I am resigning as of January first. Of course I’ll stay on as long as you need me, while you search for my replacement.” I wonder if he was expecting this. Maybe he is relieved. Maybe he is angry.
“You’re not a quitter, Kay,” he says. “That’s one thing you’ve never been. Don’t let assholes run you off, goddammit.”
“I’m not quitting my profession. Just changing the boundaries. No one’s running me off.”
“Oh yes, boundaries,” the governor observes, leaning back against the cushions and studying me. “Sounds like you’re becoming a hired gun.”
“Please.” We both share the same contempt for experts whose choice of which side to represent is based on money, not justice.
“You know what I mean.” He relights his cigar and stares off, already forming a new plan. I can see his mind working.
“I’ll go to work as a private contractor,” I say. “But I will never be a hired gun. Actually, what I’ve got to do first won’t earn me a dime, Mike. The case. New York. I’ve got to help and it’s going to take a lot of my time.”
“All right. Then it’s simple. You go to work as a private contractor, Kay, and the commonwealth will be your first client. We’ll hire you as acting chief until there’s a better solution for Virginia. I hope your rates are reasonable,” he drolly adds.
This isn’t at all what I expected to hear.
“You look surprised,” he observes.
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Maybe Buford Righter could explain,” I start to say, and indignation rises again. “We have two women horrendously murdered in this city, and no matter what, I don’t feel it’s right that their killer is now in New York. I can’t help it, Mike. I feel it’s my fault. I feel I’ve compromised the cases here because Chandonne came after me. I feel as if I’ve turned into a liability.”
“Ah, Buford,” Mitchell blandly comments. “Well, he’s a good enough guy but a lousy commonwealth’s attorney, Kay. And I don’t think letting New York have the first crack at Chandonne is all that bad an idea in light of the circumstances.” His words have the weight of many considerations, not the least of which, I suspect, is the way Europeans would react if Virginia executed a French native, and Virginia is known for the number of people it puts to death every year. I autopsy every one of them. I know the statistics all too well. “Even I would be a little at odds as to how to handle this case,” Mitchell adds with a drawn-out pause.
I have the sensation that the sky is about to fall. Secrets crackle like static electricity, but there is no point in my prying. Governor Mitchell will not be coaxed into relaying any information he isn’t ready to give. “Try not to take all this too personally. Kay,” he gives me advice. “I support you. I’ll continue to do so. I’ve worked with you a long time and know you.”