The Scarpetta Factor

“The analysts out of respect didn’t put Lucy’s info on the wall. Or anything about you. We were at a work station going through the data, all the links found. I’m not trying to get into your business. I don’t care what people do in their personal lives unless it’s illegal, and I didn’t expect RTCC to turn up what they did about Bay Bridge Finance. That co

“We’re going to find out,” Berger said.

“If he’ll tell us or if he knows.” Bo

“Lucy isn’t the type not to know,” Berger said, and she also knew Lucy wasn’t the type to let it go.

Bay Bridge Finance was a brokerage that purportedly specialized in portfolio diversification ventures such as timber, mining, petroleum extraction, and real estate, including high-end waterfront apartments in South Florida. Based on what Berger knew about the magnitude of fraud perpetrated by that Ponzi-scamming entity exposed not so long ago, chances were good that Lucy’s losses were massive. She intended to find out what she could from Bobby Fuller, not only about Ha

“Let’s go,” Berger said to Bo

It was cold and very windy, and dark clouds streamed across the sky the way they did when a front was moving in. Probably a high-pressure system, and tomorrow would be clear skies, what Lucy called “severe clear,” but bitterly cold. They followed the walkway off the avenue, and over the mansion’s grand entranceway was a green-and-white flag with the Starr coat of arms, a rampant lion and a helmet and the motto Vivre en espoir, live in hope. An irony, Berger thought. Hope was the one emotion she didn’t feel right now.

She pushed a button on an intercom that had Starr on it and Private Residence. She burrowed her hands in the pockets of her coat as she and Bo

Nastya, Berger presumed, was letting them in without asking who they were over the intercom because she knew, had observed them on a security monitor, and they were expected. Her legal immigration status had been all over the news, and several photographs were in circulation, accompanied by rumors of the services she supplied Bobby besides cooking his di

“Please come in.” Nastya stepped aside.

The foyer was travertine marble with open arches and a twenty-foot coffered ceiling centered by an antique chandelier of amethyst and smoky-quartz glass. Off to one side, a stairway with an elaborate iron railing curved upstairs, and Nastya asked them to follow her to the library. Berger remembered it was on the third floor, toward the back of the mansion, an enormous interior room where Rupe Starr had spent a lifetime accumulating an antiquarian library worthy of a university or a palace.

“Mr. Fuller had a very long night and a very early morning, and we are so upset by what’s been on the news.” Nastya stopped on the steps and looked back at Berger. “Is it true?” The sound of her feet on stone as she continued, talking with her back to them and turning her head slightly to the side. “I always worry about who’s driving the taxis. You get in, and what do you know, and off you go with a stranger who could take you anywhere. Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee or tea or water or something stronger? It’s all right to drink in the library, as long as you don’t set something near the books.”

“We’re fine,” Berger replied.

On the third floor they followed a long hallway that was covered by an antique silk ru

“Remind me again about your situation here,” Berger said as she and Bo

“On the fourth floor in the back,” Nastya said, and her eye caught the same details Berger had. The unwound clock and the dirty glass. “I haven’t been staying here until today. With Mr. Fuller away…”

“In Florida,” Berger said.

“He told me you were coming, and I hurried over. I’ve been in a hotel. He was kind enough to put me in one not far from here so I’m available when needed but not sleeping alone in this place. You can understand why that would be uncomfortable right now.”

“Which hotel?” Bo

“The Hotel Elysée. The Starr family has used it for years when they have out-of-town guests and business associates who they didn’t want staying in the house. It’s only a few minutes’ walk. You can appreciate why I wouldn’t want to stay here right now. Well, it’s been very stressful these past weeks. What happened to Ha

“Carley Crispin,” Berger said. “She bothers Bobby Fuller?”

“I can’t stand her, but I watch because I want to know. But I don’t know what to believe,” Nastya said. “That was terrible what she said last night. I burst into tears, I was so upset.”

“How does she bother Mr. Fuller?” Bo

“All I know is she’s been here before.” Nastya pulled an armchair close and sat. “At a party or two in the past. When she was a White House person, what do you call it? A press secretary. I wasn’t here, it was before my time, but you know about Mr. Starr and his famous di