Part Sixty-Nine
Sunday dawned dull and grey, with both occupants of the house sleeping till late in the morning. When George rose into consciousness, she felt thoroughly rested and content. She was as prepared for the upcoming trial as she possibly could be, and her relationship with John and Jo was still going strong. She tried to ignore the fact that she still hadn't done anything about the lump she had discovered on Boxing Day, and the niggling little qualm that she hadn't told anyone about it. But these were things that could be dealt with at a later date. She needed, in fact they all needed, to concentrate solely on Barbara's trial and nothing else.
Going downstairs, George made herself a cup of tea, and as an afterthought also made one for Kay. As it was just after ten when she lightly tapped on Kay's door, she received a mumbled answer in reply. "I thought I'd bring you a cup of tea," George said quietly, moving towards the bedside table. "Thank you," Kay yawned. "What time is it?" "Just after ten," George told her. "I haven't slept this late in a long time," Kay said in surprise, dragging herself out of the warm nest of goose feather duvet. As George moved to put the cup down on the bedside table, Kay unthinkingly switched on the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow on the items beside it. As George's gaze fell on the Luger .38 staring up at her, her whole body froze with shock, leaving only her mouth in full working order. "Precisely what is that doing in my house?" Coming to full alertness, Kay glanced from the gun on the bedside table, to the look on George's face, and finally to the slightly shaking cup in her hand. "Why not put that down first?" Kay told her, thinking that this was something they really ought to have discussed before she arrived. Putting the cup down, George backed away and perched on the edge of the bed, wholly unable to take her eyes away from the gun. "It won't hurt you, you know," Kay told her gently. "Touch it," She encouraged. "It won't bite, I promise." Putting out a slightly nervous hand, George picked up the Luger. The butt of the gun fit snugly into the palm of her hand, and as she glanced down at its metallic markings, she wondered precisely what this weapon had been used for. "Has, erm, has this ever been used to kill someone?" She found herself asking. "Would it make any difference if it had?" Kay replied quietly. "No, I suppose not, seeing as I think I know you well enough to trust your judgment in bringing it here." "I used it to shoot Denesa Steiner," Kay said quietly. "However, what is important now, is that I do have permission to bring it over here. I wouldn't have made it through customs if I hadn't." "And just how did you manage to lay your hands on that?" "Senator Frank Lord, the Justice Senator, head of the Department of Justice, managed to secure me permission to be armed over here, as a result of the case my team and I are in the middle of back home. I've had a licence to carry a concealed weapon for years, and believe me, I've been taking it everywhere with me for the last few weeks, even to the bathroom." "Do you always sleep with it on the bedside table?" George asked, thinking that she knew nothing about living under constant pressure as Kay did. Kay smiled wryly. "I frequently sleep with it under my pillow. One of the first cases I had when I moved to Richmond, twenty-three years ago now was a serial strangler. I woke up one night to find him in my bedroom, not knowing whether or not he'd gotten to my ten-year-old niece who was sleeping down the hall. So yes, I do usually sleep with my gun somewhere nearby." "Kay, I'm sorry," George told her, replacing the gun back on the bedside table. "It just shocked me to see it, that's all. Though at some point later today, I wouldn't mind seeing the proof of your permission to be armed in this country." "Of course," Kay replied amicably. "I'd probably want to do the same if I was in your position."
Later that afternoon, when Kay had unpacked all her belongings, she dug out the letter of permission from the department of justice, and took it downstairs for George to read. After taking in every word, George handed it thoughtfully back and said, "And I thought I had friends in high places." Kay smiled. "I've known Senator Frank Lord for years. We both grew up in the same part of Miami, though he is a few years older than me. He managed to obtain this for me because he said that someone owed him a favour. I dread to think what sort of favour it must have been for him to get me permission to bring my gun over here." "Is there really a possibility of you being in danger whilst you're over here?" George asked, though doubting it considerably. "One thing I have learnt in the many years I've been fighting crime," Kay said philosophically. "Is that anything's possible. The women who are currently being picked off one by one in America, all look as similar to me as possible, and all are found in places where I have recently been. So, you can see why I want to be a little careful at the moment." "Yes," George said ruefully, thinking this to be the understatement of the century.
Not long afterward, the doorbell rang. When George answered it, she saw her daughter standing on the doorstep. "Charlie," She said with a welcoming smile. "This is a nice surprise." "Well, I've hardly seen you since Christmas, have I," Charlie said a little shame facedly, knowing only too well that she only sought out her mother's company when she wanted something. "We've all been very busy," George said, clearly excusing her. When they went into the lounge, George introduced her to Kay, and poured her a mug of coffee from the steaming pot on the coffee table. "How's work going?" George asked, as she and Charlie sat on the sofa. "Hectic," Charlie replied dismally. "What do you do?" Kay asked, sitting in the big armchair at right angles to the blazing log fire. "This is my first year as a junior barrister," Charlie told her. "Following in your mother's footsteps," Kay said with a smile. "More in her father's than mine," George said ruefully. "Though I don't think he spent his youth breaking the law, all in the name of animal rights." "He went on enough protests," Charlie said, ignoring her mother's dislike of her favourite pastime. "I just carried on the tradition, that's all." "Well, as long as you're not still doing it," George told her a little sternly. "Because it won't do much for your career if you're caught." Charlie bit back the urge to comment on her mother's utter devotion to her career at the expense of everything else, because of the presence of a stranger, but George could see it reflected in her eyes.
"Have you met my dad?" Charlie asked Kay, wanting to get George off the topic of her imperfections. "No," Kay replied, sensing an undercurrent between Charlie and her mother. "He's the judge who'll be presiding over the trial that you've come over here for. Well, one of the judges anyway." "Oh, really," Kay said with interest. Then, looking at George, she added, "That must be difficult on occasions." "You could say that," George said with a rueful smile. "Dad once banged her up in a cell for contempt," Charlie told Kay with a wicked little smirk. "Oh dear," Kay replied, trying not to laugh. "Thank you, Charlie," George said, a slight flush staining her cheeks. "And it wasn't funny," She told Kay firmly. "Mum, even Granddad thought it was hilarious," Charlie reminded her. "Yes, I've no doubt," George said with a slight smile. "Now, did you come here for a reason, or are you simply bored?" "I wondered if I could borrow some money," Charlie said seriously. "Please, Mum, just till the end of the week." "Am I to assume that you're asking me because you can't ask your father?" George asked her knowingly. "Something like that," Charlie admitted sheepishly. "What have you been arguing about this time?" George asked resignedly, going into her office across the hall to find her purse. "The law," Charlie replied disgustedly. "What else?" "Will that do you?" George asked, returning and handing her daughter thirty pounds. "It's all the cash I have on me at the moment." "That's great, Mum, thanks," Charlie replied, pocketing it quickly.
A little while later when Charlie had left, George returned to the lounge and lit a cigarette. "Forgive me for commenting on something that is absolutely none of my business," Kay said a little hesitantly. "But you look like you don't get on with your daughter all that well." "I don't," George said simply. "That's how it's always been. When John and I split up, Charlie was only six, and when he moved out, Charlie went with him. I've never been what you might call the archetypal mother, and Charlie's never quite forgiven me for it. I was only just twenty-four when I had her, and I wasn't anywhere near ready for all it entailed." "In spite of that," Kay said gently. "I can tell that you've tried your best with her." George was about to respond, though with what reply she couldn't begin to imagine, when the phone rang. Gratefully getting up from the sofa to go and look for the cordless phone, she tried to resculpture her face back into the mask of indifference she usually wore.
When she answered the phone, a clearly American, very unfamiliar female voice greeted her. "Please may I speak to Dr. Scarpetta?" "Yes, of course," George replied. "Who's calling, please?" "Her niece, Lucy Farinelli." Going back into the lounge and handing Kay the phone, George said, "It's your niece for you." "Lucy," Kay said, a wide, soul deep smile spreading over her face. "This is a nice surprise." "Just thought I'd make sure you got there safely," Lucy told her. "How's the jet lag?" "The jet lag is virtually nonexistent, thank god," Kay told her. "Did you get the whirly bird back to New Jersey in one piece?" "Of course I did," Lucy replied, resigned to her aunt's concern about her flying. "Marino said that he'd take a real plane back to Richmond from LaGuardia, damned cheek." Kay laughed. "How is he?" She asked, always having a fond need to check up on him. "Oh, he's fine, though my guess is that he'll be back up here some time today, with Benton." These last few words were uttered with a very guarded seriousness. "Why, what's happened?" Kay asked, though the chill that crept up her spine told her precisely what before Lucy could say it. "We've got another body," Lucy told her. "It was found last night, looks just like you, even with the same tone of ash blonde hair, or so I'm told. It's a woman in her late forties, and she was found in the car park at JFK airport, which is guess what, precisely where you were last." "Oh, god," Kay said quietly. "That's the fifth now, and we're still no further on in finding anything out about who's doing it." "Marino phoned me," Lucy told her. "And told me to ring and check up on you, seeing as he'll be travelling for most of today getting back up here." "Well, I'm perfectly safe tell him, and I even managed to get through customs with my .38 intact, but yes, before you say it, I will be careful, I promise."
When she'd finished her conversation to Lucy, she gazed into the fire, a whole host of thoughts whizzing around her brain. "That didn't sound like good news," George said quietly. "It almost never is," Kay told her dully. "But that's the price you pay for everyone who means something to you working in law enforcement." "What does Lucy do?" George asked, wondering at this sudden exchange of information on daughters, or the equivalent of daughters. "Lucy was an FBI agent, until they decided that they didn't want someone who actively participated in a lesbian relationship." "Ouch," George said sympathetically. "Then she moved to ATF, the bureau for Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. Then, when she got mixed up in a very bad take down in Miami, they were going to put her on admin leave, which is the equivalent to someone being suspended. So, she quit, and with a friend who had also worked for ATF as the head of fire investigation, she set up an investigative agency, which they call The Last Precinct. Where do you go when there's nowhere left to go? If you want the answer to a problem that the usual channels can't find out, you go to The Last Precinct. The FBI have been closely guarding their territory on this current case, but I suspect Lucy and her partner Teun will have more success. They usually do." "She sounds like a niece to be extremely proud of," George said with a wistful glimmer of envy in her face. "Oh, she is," Kay, said fondly. "But that doesn't prevent me from worrying about her nearly every minute of every day. My sister Dorothy, Lucy's mother, has never wanted to be part of Lucy's world, to understand why she does the things she does on a daily basis. Marino often tells me that it was me who brought Lucy up and not Dorothy, and in some respects he's probably right, but I would have done anything to stop her from going into law enforcement. I wasn't the only surrogate parent Lucy had along the way, because Marino did his fair share by first of all teaching her to drive his truck, and then by teaching her to shoot when she was seventeen, much to my temporary disgust." George smiled. "I don't think I've ever been able to teach Charlie anything," She said almost regretfully. "The only time she comes to me, is when she wants something that John won't give her, as you clearly saw." "As real parents or as stand-in parents," Kay said seriously. "All we can ever do is our best."