The Scarpetta Factor

Excerpt

 "Maybe ... something at work, the economy being what it is. Some of the girls she works with have been laid off," Mrs. Darien said. "She gets in moods like everybody else. Especially this time of year. She doesn't like winter weather."

"Any medications you might be aware of?"

"Just over- the- counter, as far as I know. Vitamins. She takes very good care of herself."

"I'm interested in who her internist might be, her doctor or doctors. Mr. Darien didn't fill in that part."

"He wouldn't know. He's never gotten the bills. Toni's been living on her own since college, and I can't be sure who her doctor is. She never gets sick, has more energy than anyone I know.  Always on the go."

"Are you aware of any jewelry she might have routinely worn?

Perhaps rings, a bracelet, a necklace she rarely took off?" Scarpetta said.

"I don't know."

"What about a watch?"

"I don't think so."

"What looks like a black plastic sports watch, digital? A large black watch? Does that sound familiar?"

Mrs. Darien shook her head.

"I've seen similar watches when people are involved in studies. In your profession, I'm sure you have, too. Watches that are cardiac monitors or worn by people who have sleep disorders, for  example," Scarpetta said.

A look of hope in Mrs. Darien's eyes.

"What about when you saw Toni at Thanksgiving," Scarpetta said. "Might she have been wearing a watch like the one I just described?"

"No." Mrs. Darien shook her head. "That's what I mean. It might not be her. I've never seen her wearing anything like that."

Scarpetta asked her if she would like to see the body now, and they got up from the table and walked into an adjoining room, small and bare, just a few photographs of New York City skylines on pale- green walls. The viewing window was approximately waist- high, about the height of a casket on a bier, and on the other side was a steel screen-actually, the doors of the lift that had carried Toni's body up from the morgue.

"Before I open the screen, I want to explain what you're going to see," Scarpetta said. "Would you like to sit on the sofa?"

"No. No, thank you. I'll stand. I'm ready." Her eyes were wide and panicked, and she was breathing fast.

"I'm going to push a button." Scarpetta indicated a panel of three buttons on the wall, two black, one red, old elevator buttons. "And when the screen opens, the body will be right here."

"Yes. I understand. I'm ready." She could barely talk, she was so frightened, shaking as if freezing cold, breathing hard as if she'd just exerted herself.

"The body is on a gurney inside the elevator, on the other side of the window. Her head will be here, to the left. The rest of her is covered."

Scarpetta pushed the top black button, and the steel doors parted with a loud clank. Through scratched Plexiglas Toni Darien was shrouded in blue, her face wan, her eyes shut, her lips colorless and dry, her long, dark hair still damp from rinsing. Her mother pressed her hands against the window.

Copyright (c) 2009 by CEI Enterprises, Inc.