The Scarpetta Factor

She reached the top of the ramp, staying close to the wall in incomplete darkness, the only lights on in the area near the far left corner where the voices came from, but she couldn’t see anyone. Berger and probably Bo

“Well, someone has. Obviously.” Unmistakably Berger.

“People have always been in and out. They entertain so much. They have always.” The accent again.

“You said that had tapered off after Rupe Starr died.”

“Yes. Not so much. But still there are a few people who come. I don’t know. Mr. Fuller is very private. He and his friends come down here. I don’t intrude.”

“We’re supposed to believe you don’t know who’s in and out?” The third voice had to be Bo

Rupe Starr’s cars. A collection as thoughtful and sentimental as it was impressive and rare. The 1940 Packard like the one his father had owned. The 1957 Thunderbird that had been Rupe’s dream when he was in high school and drove a VW Bug. The 1969 Ca maro like the one he’d owned after he’d gotten his MBA from Harvard. The 1970 Mercedes sedan he’d rewarded himself with when he’d started doing well on Wall Street. Lucy walked past his prized 1933 Duesenberg Speedster, his Ferrari 355 Spyder, and the last car he’d gotten before his death and hadn’t had a chance to restore yet, a 1979 yellow Checker cab because it reminded him of New York in his heyday, he’d said.

The new additions to his collection, the Ferraris, the Porsches, the Lamborghini, had been recent purchases influenced by Ha

“Don’t,” Berger said, and it was Lucy she feared. “Put the gun down. Please.”

“What?” Lucy said, dumbfounded, and she noticed Bo

“Please put down the gun,” Berger said, with no emotion in her tone.

“We’ve been trying to call, been trying to get you on the radio. Careful, easy does it,” Lucy warned Bo

Berger said to her, “Nothing you’ve done is worth this. Please put it down.”

“Easy does it. Be calm. I’m coming closer, and we’re going to talk,” Lucy said to them as she walked. “You don’t know what’s happened. We’ve not been able to get through. Jesus fuck!” she yelled at Bo

Nastya muttered something in Russian and began to cry.

Berger stepped closer to Lucy and said, “Give me the gun and we’ll talk. Talk about anything you want. Everything’s all right. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. Whether it’s money or Ha

“I haven’t done anything. Listen to me.”

“It’s all right. Just give me the gun.” Berger stared at her while Lucy stared at Bo

“It’s not all right. You don’t know who she is.” Lucy meant Nastya. “Or who any of them are. Toni came here. You don’t know because we couldn’t get through. The watch Toni was wearing has a GPS in it, and she was here. She came here on Tuesday and died here.” Lucy glanced at the yellow Checker cab. “And he kept her here for a while. Or they did.”

“No one has been here.” Nastya was shaking her head side to side and crying.

“You’re a fucking liar,” Lucy said. “Where’s Bobby?”

“I don’t know anything. I just do what I’m told,” Nastya cried.

“Where was he Tuesday afternoon?” Lucy said to her. “Where were you and Bobby?”

“I don’t come down when they show people the cars.”

“Who else was here?” Lucy said, and Nastya didn’t answer. “Who was here Tuesday afternoon and all day Wednesday? Who drove out of here at four-something in the morning, yesterday morning? Drove that.” Lucy nodded her head at the Checker cab and said to Berger, “Toni’s body was in it. We couldn’t get through to tell you. The yellow paint chips collected from her body are from something old. An old car painted that color.”

Berger said, “Enough damage has been done. Somehow we’ll fix it. Please give me the gun, Lucy.”

It began to occur to her what Berger meant.

“No matter what you’ve done, Lucy.”

“I’ve not done anything.” Lucy talked to Berger but kept her eyes on Bo

“It doesn’t matter to me. We’ll get past it,” Berger said. “But it has to stop now. You can stop it now. Give me the gun.”

“Near the Duesenberg over there are boxes,” Lucy said. “The stationary system that has jammed your phones, your radio. If you look, you can see them. They’re to my left against that wall. They look like a small washer and dryer with rows of lights in front. Switches for different RF bands, radio frequency bands. Rupe had it installed, and you can see from here it’s on. The rows of lights are red because all of the frequencies have been jammed.”

Nobody moved and nobody looked. Their eyes were fastened on Lucy as if she might kill them any moment, do to them what Berger had gotten into her head that Lucy did to Ha

“Jaime, walk over there and look,” Lucy said. “Please. Walk over to the boxes and look. Switches designated for different megahertz frequencies.”

Berger walked past her but didn’t get close, and Lucy didn’t look at her. She was busy watching Bo

“I’m at the boxes,” Berger said from the side wall.

“Flip all the switches.” Lucy didn’t look at her, would be god-damned if she was going to be killed by a fucking cop. “The lights should turn green, and you and Bo

The sound of switches being flipped.

Lucy said to Bo

She was telling Bo