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Autopsy (Kay Scarpetta, #25)(30)

Author:Patricia Cornwell

“I would imagine the police will need your DNA for exclusionary purposes since you’ve been inside her townhome.” Benton begins unbuttoning his shirt collar, loosening his tie. “How often? And how recently?”

“Just that one time I stopped by to welcome her to the neighborhood right after she moved here,” she says, and I’m not going to mention the near-dead dish garden. “Then Pete and Lucy did their security walk-through with her a few weeks after that.”

“By the way, where is she?” I ask.

When I got home, Lucy should have seen it in the gate cameras and others along the wooded perimeter. She monitors them on computer displays, also an app on her phone. I admit it hurts my feelings that she hasn’t shown up yet, and I hope she’s not annoyed with me for being late for her birthday.

“I have to say that Gwen was neither grateful nor friendly,” Dorothy summarizes. “In retrospect, I’m deciding that she acted like someone with a lot to hide.”

“Did you ever call her after the one time you dropped by?” Benton continues his questions.

“I don’t have her number. I could tell she didn’t want to give it out.”

“What about Lucy and Marino?” I inquire. “How did they set up their walk-through?”

“When I was with Gwen, we picked a date for mid-October.”

“This was how long after she moved in?” Benton wants to know.

“A couple of weeks,” Dorothy says. “But when I met her, she’d just gotten there, and what a disaster. I don’t know how she stood it.”

The townhome was being renovated, and was not really habitable. She recalls the strong smell of paint, the noise of the construction crew clearing out their debris and trash.

“I remember hearing them stomping around, packing up their tools, covering stuff upstairs with plastic, and whatnot,” she adds.

“How long were you with her?” I envision what I saw inside the townhome, the empty picture hooks, the dangling wires.

“Thirty, forty minutes tops,” she replies. “And when she told me about her problems with her ex, I suggested the security check. She wasn’t all that interested but I was insistent it was the smart thing to do. So we set it up, and just so we’re clear, I wasn’t present when Pete and Lucy were there.”

“I’m afraid you may not hear the end of this for a while,” Benton says.

“Well, I just hope it won’t ruin where we live.” Dorothy never fails to circle back to herself. “I’m not sure how safe I’ll feel anymore. Not to mention privacy issues now that Colonial Landing is all over the news.”

“You know you’re always welcome to stay here.” I remind her of what I honestly don’t want to happen.

I can’t imagine living under the same roof with my sister. Maybe it’s not nice to say but I have my limits.

“I assume by now they’ve taken Gwen’s ex into custody for questioning?” Dorothy asks. “I recall his name is Jinx, and that’s who I’d be looking at based on what she said about him.”

“I’m interested in everything she told you,” Benton says. “You and I can talk while Kay goes upstairs and showers. I’ll bring up a drink.” This to me. “An aged single malt on the rocks, a double, just what the doctor ordered.”

“That sounds wonderful but not until I know what’s going on with Lucy,” I reply, and by now it’s apparent she doesn’t intend to greet me. “I assume she’s home but can’t tell when her shades are down.”

“WHO KNOWS WHAT SHE’S doing, recluse that she’s become,” Dorothy says. “Not that she won any awards for being sociable before all this. Despite my efforts to teach her a few manners, my constant reminders to focus on the positive.”

“How has Lucy been?” I ask Benton. “What’s her mood like today? Do we know if she talked to people on the phone? Did anyone reach out to her? Did she reconnect with anyone or even try? Has she done anything remotely fun?”

“Since she’s been isolating, I’d say her mood’s not been great.” Her mother takes it upon herself to further assess.

“When’s the last time you saw her?” I ask.

“Midday when the man came to finish painting the trellis while it wasn’t raining. Lucy and I were outside for a few minutes,” Dorothy says, “and I’ve not laid eyes on her since.”

I have a pretty good idea what my niece has been up to since I saw her early this morning as the sun was coming up. On my way to work, I stopped by her cottage to wish her a happy birthday, and she was drinking coffee at her desk. I wanted to give her a little something I’d had made for her, a gift that’s more symbolic than anything else.

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