Sweet Dreams, Irene

34

FRANK WAS GETTING READY for work the next morning when the doorbell rang, so I answered it, and was surprised to see the coroner standing there.

“Good morning, Miss Kelly,” he said, seeming uncomfortable.

“Hello, Dr. Hernandez,” I said, gesturing for him to come inside. “Frank must have forgotten to cancel his order. He changed his mind about killing me yesterday.”

He smiled. Frank had made his way down the hall by then, and also seemed surprised to see Dr. Hernandez. “Carlos? What’s up?”

“Good morning, Frank. Sorry to bother you at home. I, uh, wanted to talk to you away from the office.”

Frank nodded. “Come on into the kitchen, I’ll get you a cup of coffee. Okay if Irene hears this?”

He hesitated. “Only if it doesn’t end up in the newspaper.”

My curiosity was fairly raging. “I’m on medical leave,” I said. “I know it’s hard to see why.”

“You look like you could still use a telephone.”

“You’re right. But I won’t.”

That seemed good enough for him, and he followed us into the kitchen. When we were all settled around the table, he said, “I don’t suppose you or Pete were in contact with anyone from the county lab over the weekend, were you, Frank?”

“No. Pete should be by in a few minutes, but I’m fairly certain he wasn’t, either. Why do you ask?”

“I dropped by on Sunday to review our caseload and to prepare work schedules for next week. I also wanted to do a little more work on the Sammy Garden case. I discovered that between the time I left Friday afternoon and yesterday morning, someone took a look through my computer files.”

“And you thought it was me?” Frank asked, taken aback.

“No,” Carlos said quickly. “I never thought it was you or Pete. That’s why I came by. If you weren’t the ones who asked for the information, I wanted you to be aware of what had happened. I know you have a…” He glanced over at me. “You have a personal interest in the files that were read.”

Frank and I exchanged a look. “Which files?” I asked, the knot in my stomach already predicting the answer.

“Those having to do with the Fremont murder and the Garden case.”

The knot tightened.

“How could you tell?” Frank asked.

“The computer notes the last date and time anyone opens a case file. The display doesn’t show up unless you ask for it, but I check it fairly often, as a way of managing our work – helps me to keep track of which cases aren’t moving.”

“Maybe one of your assistants was in on the weekend,” Frank suggested.

Carlos was silent for a moment, then said, “Maybe. But other than the man who was on duty, no one is admitting it, and he normally wouldn’t be in the part of the building where the computers are. These files are generally accessible on a “read only” basis from either my offices or the D.A.’s office, but it’s too early for any involvement from the D.A. As far as I can tell, the files weren’t accessed randomly, the way a hacker might enter them, and no other files were opened. So who felt they needed to wait until the weekend to take a look? It disturbs me.”

“Anyone you would suspect of doing this?”

“I’d rather not speculate, Frank, at least not yet. I just wanted to ask you and Pete to be careful about who you talk to. I have no idea what was being looked for; the files don’t seem to have been disturbed, just read.”

“You’ve got backups?”

“Yes, on disks which are kept in a completely separate area. I checked them. No one looked at the backups.” He paused, glancing at me, then back to Frank. “I’ve never mentioned my conversations with you in my notes. I know you aren’t supposed to be on either case, but no one has forbidden me to discuss them with you. I know you have reasons to be interested in both of them, and I haven’t minded taking care of a friend.”

“I’ve appreciated it,” Frank said.

Carlos waved it off. “It’s nothing. By the way, I think I’ve finally identified the hairs.”

“The ones from the wounds?” I asked.

“So, Frank has kept you up on all of this. Yes, from the wounds. The hairs are from a deer.”

“A deer?”

“Yes. Does that mean anything to you?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” I said. “Not unless it means she was killed in the mountains, where there might be deer hairs on the ground.”

He shook his head. “I suppose it’s possible, but why would she pick up deer hairs only in the wounds, and not on her clothing or other parts of her body?”

“The hairs are bound to figure in somehow, sooner or later,” Frank said. “It’s just too weird otherwise. We’ll keep thinking it over.”

“I’ll do the same,” Carlos said, standing up. “Thanks for the coffee. I’d better get going.”

WHEN FRANK CAME BACK after seeing Carlos out, he leaned over and kissed me. “Maybe Pete and Rachel will be late this morning,” he murmured into my ear. The doorbell rang. I was getting ready to disco

“See you after work, Frank.”

“Count on it,” he said, moving to answer the door.

The boys left for work, and I moved back into the kitchen with Rachel. I set the table while she cooked; I hadn’t gotten around to one-handed breakfast-cooking yet. She was making a frittata, an Italian-style omelet.

“Sweatpants,” she observed. “We should have thought of that sooner. Those look a little big on you.”

“They’re Frank’s. I’m afraid this is the second pair that will have the elastic around one ankle stretched out.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind.” She smiled. “You seem full of energy today.”

“I’m feeling better. I think a lot of it is mental.”

She divided up the frittata and we dug in. I was chasing my first bite around the plate with my fork when she said, “How do you mean, mental?”

“Oh, I guess yesterday was a turning point for me.” I managed to get the bite into my mouth. Rachel and Lydia were going to have me bursting my casts from weight gain. The frittata was great. “Squisita!” I told her.

She gri

I told her, leaving out details concerning the hours alone with Frank after sailing and after Cassie left. I told her about my decision to get out and about a little more.

“Sounds good to me. You want to go for a ride somewhere today?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d love it.”

“I know – we’ll go clothes shopping.”

I looked at her doubtfully.

“For sweatpants and other things that would be easy for you to wear.”

I thought of being in a store, around that many people, looking in mirrors at myself.

“On the other hand-” she began, seeing my brows furrow, but I cut her off.

“No, Rachel, you’re right. And I’ll have you along for company, so I know I’ll enjoy it.”

We finished breakfast, and I did what I could to help clean up. The phone rang. It was Frank.

“Bad news, I’m afraid,” he said.

“No search warrant.”

“No warrant. I’m really sorry, Irene. I can’t get anybody to touch it. I thought Sloane would see himself as a lame duck and go for broke.”

Sloane had been appointed as acting D.A. when we lost our last one. His term would be over in January, but apparently it didn’t make him any braver.

“Thanks for trying, Frank. I guess I was expecting things to go this way. Sounds like Ga

“Try not to let it get you down, okay?”

“I won’t. Rachel is taking me shopping today. I’m going to get some sweatpants of my own.”

“I don’t know, you looked pretty good in the pair you were wearing this morning. But have fun. Be careful. I’ll see you tonight.”

I hung up the phone and felt a surge of frustration and anger.

“You look like you need to punch somebody. What’s going on?” Rachel asked.

“Apparently, Mr. Ga