“He needs to meet me for what reason—” I start to say.
“He’ll explain,” she interrupts.
“Why didn’t you just put him on the phone with me? He could have called directly for that matter. I gave him my cell number at the scene Friday night.”
“August and I have worked together for years. He was polite enough to check with me first, and will call you when he’s in his car,” she says in her lovely London accent, having zero respect for a woman in charge.
Certainly not a second-generation Italian who grew up poor in Miami. I collect my coat from the coatrack. I’m eager to get out of here, and not because of present company and the weather. Today is my niece’s birthday, a difficult one with all that’s gone on, and I’ve planned a quiet celebration at home, just family.
“One of Doctor Reddy’s strengths is he knows how to delegate.” Maggie hasn’t finished lecturing. “He didn’t hand out his personal contact information like Halloween candy,” as if I do. “He made it clear he wasn’t at the beck and call of the police. It’s a lesson you’d be well served to learn.”
At every opportunity, she can’t resist mentioning her former boss, the chief I replaced under somewhat false pretenses as it turns out. Or bait and switch might better summarize what happened once I’d moved here from Massachusetts. Everything changed in the blink of an eye.
It was too late by the time I discovered that Elvin Reddy wasn’t leaving state government for the private sector as I was promised by him and others high up the chain. Instead, he was appointed the new health commissioner of Virginia, overseeing all departments responsible for the well-being and safety of the public.
That includes the statewide Office of the Chief Medical Examiner （OCME）。 Meaning I answer to him when push comes to shove, a slick political trick if ever I heard one.
“As you’re seeing, it doesn’t take long for people to get entitled,” Maggie says ironically. “I’d suggest you take an investigator with you. Fabian’s on call tonight. He was at his desk when I walked past a few minutes ago.”
“IT DEPENDS ON WHAT we’re dealing with,” I reply. “It probably won’t be necessary. I believe I can manage.”
Looking around for the spray bottle of filtered water, I spot it on a shelf near the conference table.
“It’s unwise for the chief to show up at all, much less alone, and it’s not a good precedent for you to start,” Maggie says as if I just fell off the turnip truck.
“Look, I’m sure you have my best interests in mind.” I’m not rude about it, not even snide.
“I believe that goes without saying.” She dominates our shared doorway as I step around boxes of books and other personal belongings I’ve yet to unpack.
“I realize my style isn’t your cup of tea, Maggie.” I begin spritzing my fiddle-leaf fig tree and potted orchids. “But I’m not the sort to stand on ceremony. If I can’t be bothered then why should anyone else?”
It’s all I can do not to admit the major reason I was asked to become chief again. The number of cases that have been neglected and mishandled for years is stunning. Especially here in Northern Virginia, which has its own special problems because of our location.
My office is but five miles from the Pentagon, and I stipulated that if I took this job, I had to work out of the headquarters here in Alexandria. Considering the various national obligations my husband and I have, it’s important we’re in close proximity to Washington, D.C.
“If the police want my help, that’s why I’m here.” I tell Maggie what I have before. “They don’t need to go through you.”
“I suppose we should postpone Lucy’s birthday gathering.” She curtly changes the subject. “Benton, Pete Marino, your sister, anybody else? I’ll let them know.”
“Nobody else, and I agree that’s probably wise.” I’ll never stop feeling awful about disappointing everyone on a regular basis.
But violence and senseless tragedy don’t care who you are or the occasion, and someone has to respond. Returning to my desk, I vow to make it up to Lucy, as I’ve vowed so many times before.
“I can’t imagine how difficult it must be.” Maggie grimly shakes her head with phony sympathy. “Losing her partner and adopted son,” she says, and I don’t intend to discuss my niece and why she’s living at home. “Not that I really understand that lifestyle. But this time of year, everything’s harder for people who are unhappy.”