Cause Of Death

"My God," I suddenly said.

"What?" He was alarmed, and he looked around as if I had spotted something.

"His doggie bag. What happened to it? It wasn't inside my Mercedes. There was nothing in there that I could see.

Not even a gum wrapper," I said.

"Damn, you're right. And I didn't see nothing on the where your ride was parked. Nothing with the body street or anywhere at the scene, either."

the place no one had looked, and it was right There was o where we were, on this street by the restaurant. So Marino and I got out flashlights again and prowled. We looked along Broad Street, but it was on 28th near the curb where we found the small white bag as a large dog began barking from a yard. The bag's location suggested that Da

"You got a couple pencils or pens inside your purse?"

Marino squatted by what we suspected might be the remains of Da

I found one pen and a long-handled comb, which I gave to him. Using these simple instruments, he opened the bag without touching it as he probed. Inside were cold French fries wrapped in foil and a jumbo pack of Dentyne gum.

The sight of them was jolting and told a terrible story.

Da

"I wish that damn dog would shut up," Marino said as he stood. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

He crossed the street to his car and opened the trunk.

When he returned, he was carrying the usual large brown paper bag police used for evidence. While I held it open, he maneuvered the comb and pencils to drop Da

"I know I should take this into the property room, but they don't like food in there. Besides. there's no fridge."

Paper crackled as he folded shut the top of the evidence bag.

Our feet made scuffing noises on pavement as we walked.

"Hell, it's colder than any refrigerator out here," he went on. "if we get any prints they'll probably be his. But I'll get the labs to check anyway."

He locked the bag inside his trunk, where I knew he had stored evidence many times before. Marino's reluctance to follow departmental rules went beyond his dress.

I looked around the dark street lined with cars. "Whatever happened started right here," I said.

Marino was silent as he looked around, too. Then he asked, "You think it was your Benz? You think that was the motive?"

"I don't know," I replied.

"Well, it could be robbery. The car made him look rich even if he wasn't."

I was overwhelmed by guilt again.

"But I still think he might have met someone he wanted to pick up."

"Maybe it would be easier if he had been up to no good I said. "Maybe it would be easier for all of us because then we could blame him for being killed."

Marino was silent as he looked at me. "Go home and get some sleep. You want me to follow you?"

"Thank you. I'll be fine."

But I wasn't, really. The drive was longer and darker than I remembered, and I felt unusually unskilled at everything I tried to do. Even rolling down the window at the toll booth and finding the right change was hard. Then the token I tossed missed the bin, and when someone behind me honked, I jumped. I was so out of sorts I could think of nothing that might calm me down, not even whiskey. I returned to my neighborhood at nearly one A.m., and the guard who let me through was grim, and I expected he had heard the news, too, and knew where I had been. When I pulled up to my house, I was stu

She was up and seemed recovered, stretched out on the couch in the gathering room. The fire was on, and she had a blanket over her legs, and on TV, Robin Williams was hilarious at the Met.

"What happened?" I sat in a chair nearby. "How did your car get here'?"

She had glasses on and was reading some sort of manual that had been published by the FBI. "Your answering service called," she said. "This guy who was driving my car arrived at your office downtown and your assistant never showed up. What's his name, Da

"But what happened'?" I asked again. "I don't even know the name of this person. He was supposed to be an acquaintance of Da

She picked up the remote control and turned the television off. "All I know is you got called out on a case. That's what you said to me right before you left."

So I told her. I told her who Da

"Lucy, do you have any idea who this person was who dropped off your car?" I then said.

"I don't know." She was sitting up now. "Some Hispanic guy named Rick. He had an earring, short hair and looked maybe twenty-two, twenty-three. He was very polite, nice."

"Where is he now?" I said. "You didn't just take your car from him."

"Oh no. I drove him to the bus station, which George gave me directions to."

"George?"

"The guard on duty at the time. At the guard gate. I guess this would have been close to nine."

"Then Rick's gone back to Norfolk."

"I don't know what he's done," she said. "He told me as we were driving that he was certain Da

"God. Let's hope he doesn't unless he heard it on the news. Let's hope he wasn't there," I said.

The thought of Lucy alone with this stranger in her car filled me with terror, and in my mind I saw Da

I felt shattered bone beneath gloves slippery with his blood.

"Rick's considered a suspect?" She was surprised.

"At the moment, just about anybody is."

I picked up the phone at the bar. Marino had just gotten home, too, and before I could say anything, he butted in.

"We found the cartridge case."

"Great," I said, relieved. "Where?"

"If you're on the road looking down toward the tu

"A right port ejector," I said.

"Had to be, unless both Da

"Overkill," I said.

"You got that right. Someone wanted to make sure he was dead."

"Marino," I said, "Lucy met Da

"You mean the guy driving her car?"

"Yes," and I explained what I knew.

"Maybe this thing's making a little more sense," he said. "The two of them got separated on the road, but in Da

"Can someone try to find out who Rick is before he disappears? Maybe intercept him when he gets off the bus?" I asked.

"I'll call Norfolk P.D. I got to anyway because somebody's got to go over to Da

"His family lives in Chesapeake," I told him the bad news, and I knew I would need to talk to them, too.

"Shit," Marino said.

"Don't talk to Detective Roche about any of this, and I don't want him anywhere near Da

"Don't worry. And you'd better get hold of Dr. Mant."

I tried the number for his mother's flat in London, but there was no answer, and I left an urgent message. There were so many calls to make, and I was drained. I sat next to Lucy on the couch.