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.I never dialed 911.I didn't need to.My number and address were in the phone directory because medical examiners had to be able to reach me after business hours.Also I talked with several dispatchers on several occasions over the past few weeks when I was trying to find Marino.One of them might have been McCorkle.I'd never know.I don't think I wanted to know."Your picture's been in the paper and on TV," Marino went on."You've been working all his cases, he's been wondering what you know.He's been thinking about you.Me, I was worried.Then all that shit about his metabolic disorder and your office having something on him."He paced as he talked."Now he's going to be hot.Now it's gotten personal.The snooty lady doctor here's maybe insulting his intelligence, his masculinity."The phone calls I was getting at late hours "This pushes his button.He don't like no broad treating him like he's a stupid ass.He's thinking, 'The bitch thinks she's smart, better'n me.I'll show her.I'll fix her.'"I was wearing a sweater under my lab coat.Both were buttoned up to the collar.I couldn't get warm.For the last two nights I'd slept in Lucy's room.I was going to redecorate my bedroom.I was thinking of selling my house."So I guess that big newspaper spread on him the other day rattled his cage all right.Benton said it was a blessing.That maybe he'd get reckless or something.I was pissed.You remember that?"I barely nodded."You want to know the big reason I was so damned pissed?"I just looked at him.He was like a kid.He was proud of himself.I was supposed to praise him, be thrilled, because he shot a man at ten paces, mowed him down inside my bedroom.The guy had a buck knife.That was it.What was he going to do, throw it? "Well, I'll tell you.For one thing, I got a little tip sometime back.""A tip?"My eyes focused."What tip?""Golden Boy Boltz," he replied matter-of-factly as he flicked an ash."Just so happens he was big enough to pass along something right before he blew out of town.Told me he was worried about you.""About me?" I blurted."Said he dropped by your house late one night and there was this strange car.It cruised up, cut its lights and sped off.He was antsy you was being watched, maybe it was the killer.""That was Abby!" I crazily broke out."She came to see me, to ask me questions, saw Bill's car and panicked."Marino looked surprised, just for an instant.Then shrugged."Whatever.Just as well it caught our attention, huh?"I didn't say anything.I was on the verge of tears."It was enough to give me the jitters.Fact is, I've been watching your house for a while.Been watching it a lot of late nights.Then comes the damn story about the DNA link.I'm thinking this squirrel's maybe already casing the doc.Now he's really going to be off the wall.The story ain't going to lure him to the computer.It's going to lure him straight to her.""You were right," I said, clearing my throat."You're damn right I was right."Marino didn't have to kill him.No one would ever know except the two of us.I'd never tell.I wasn't sorry.I would have done it myself.Maybe I was sick inside because if I tried I would have failed.The.38 wasn't loaded.Click.That's as far as I would have gotten.I think I was sick inside because I couldn't save myself and I didn't want to thank Marino for my life.He was going on and on.My anger started to simmer.It began creeping up my throat like bile.When suddenly Wingo walked in."Uh."Hands in his pockets, he looked uncertain as Marino eyed him in annoyance."Uh, Dr.Scarpetta.I know this isn't a good time and all.I mean, I know you're still upset.""I'm not upset!"His eyes widened.He blanched.Lowering my voice, I said, "I'm sorry, Wingo.Yes.I'm upset.I'm ragged.I'm not myself.What's on your mind?"He reached in a pocket of his powder-blue silk trousers and pulled out a plastic bag.Inside was a cigarette butt, Benson Hedges 100's.He placed it lightly on my blotter.I looked blankly at him, waiting."Uh, well, you remember me asking about the commissioner, about whether he's an antismoker and all that?"I nodded.Marino was getting restless.He was looking around as if he were bored."You see, my friend Patrick.He works in accounting across the street, in the same building where Amburgey works.Well."He was blushing."Patrick and I, we meet sometimes at his car and go off for lunch.His assigned parking place is about two rows down from where Amburgey's is.We've seen him before.""Seen him before?" I asked, baffled."Seen Amburgey before? Doing what?"Wingo leaned over and confided, "Seen him smoking, Dr.Scarpetta."He straightened up."I swear.Late morning and right after lunchtime, Patrick and me, we're sitting in the car, in Patrick's car, just talking, listening to tunes.We've seen Amburgey get into his black New Yorker and light up
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