Patricia Cornwell - Cause Of Death

"No, thank you."

"I discovered it through Ted," she oddly went on as tears suddenly spilled down. "He found it when he was skiing out west and brought a bottle home. It tastes like liquid fire with a little cinnamon. That's what he said when he gave it to me. He was always bringing me little things."

"Did he ever bring you champagne?"

She delicately blew her nose.

"You said he was to have visited you today," I reminded her.

"He was supposed to come for lunch," she said.

"There is a very nice bottle of champagne in his refrigerator. It has a bow tied around it, and I'm wondering if this might have been something he had intended to bring when he came by for lunch today."

"Oh my." Her voice shook. "That must have been for some other celebration he planned. I don't drink champagne. It gives me a headache."

"We're looking for his computer disks," I said. "We're looking for any notes pertaining to what he might have been recently writing. Did he ever ask you to store anything for him here?"

"Some of his athletic equipment is in the attic but it's old as Methuselah." Her voice caught and she cleared it.

"And papers from school."

"Are you aware of his having a safe deposit box, perhaps?"

"No." She shook her head.

"What about a friend he might have entrusted these things to?"

"I don't know about his friends," she said again as freezing rain clicked against glass.

"And he didn't mention any romantic interests. You're saying he had none?"

She pressed her lips tight.

"Please tell me if I am misunderstanding something."

"There was a girl he brought by some months back. I guess it was in the summer and apparently she's some sort of scientist." She paused. "Seems he was doing a story or something, they met that way. We had a bit of a disagreement over her."

"Why?"

"She was attractive and one of these academic types.

Maybe she's a professor. I can't recall but she's from overseas somewhere."

I waited, but she had nothing more to say.

"What was your disagreement?" I asked. -[knew the minute I met her that she was not of good character, and she was not permitted in my home," Mrs. Eddings replied.

"Does she live in this area?" I asked.

"One would expect so, but I wouldn't know where she is."

"But he might have still been seeing her."

"I have no idea who Ted was seeing," she said, and I believed she was lying.

"Mrs. Eddings," I said, "by all appearances, your son was not home much."

She just looked at me.

"Did he have a housekeeper? For example, someone who took care of his plants?"

"I sent my housekeeper by when needed," she said.

"Corian. Sometimes she brings him food. Ted can never bother with cooking."

"When was the last time she went by?"

"I don't know," she said, and I could tell she was getting weary of questions. "Some time before Christmas, I suspect, because she's had the flu."

"Did Corian ever mention to you what is in his house?"

"I guess you mean his guns," she said. "Just another something he started to collect a year or so back. That's all he wanted for his birthdays gift certificate for one of those gun stores around here. As if a woman would dare walk into such a place."

It was pointless to probe further, for she had the single desire for her son to be alive. Beyond that, any activity or inquiry was simply an invasion she was determined to sidestep. At close to ten, I headed home, and almost slipped twice on vacant streets where it was too dark to see. The night was bitterly cold and filled with sharp wet sounds as ice coated trees and glazed the ground.

I felt discouraged because it did not seem anyone knew Eddings beyond what he had been like on the surface or in the past. I had learned he had collected coins and butterflies and had always been charming. He was an ambitious reporter with a limited attention span, and I thought how odd it was that I should be walking through his old neighborhood in such weather to talk about this man. I wondered what he would think could I tell him, and I felt very sad.

I did not want to chat with anyone when I walked into my house, but went straight to my room. I was warming my hands with hot water and washing my face when Lucy appeared in the doorway. I knew instantly that she was in one of her moods.

"Did you get enough to eat?" I looked at her in the mirror over the sink.

"I never get enough to eat," she irritably replied.

"Someone named Danny from your Norfolk office called.

He said the answering service was contacted about our cars.

For a moment my mind went blank. Then I remembered.

"I gave the towing service the office number." I dried my face with a towel. "So I guess the answering service reached Danny at home."

"Whatever. He wants you to call." She stared at me in the mirror as if I had done something wrong.

"What is it?" I stared back.

"I've just got to get out of here."

"I'll try to get the cars here tomorrow," I said, stung.

I walked out of the bathroom, and she followed.

"I need to get back to UVA."

"Of course you do, Lucy," I said.

"You don't understand. I've got so much to do."

"I didn't realize your independent study or whatever it is had already started." I walked into the gathering room and headed for the bar.

"It doesn't matter if it's started. I've got a lot to set up. And I don't understand how you're going to get the cars

here. Maybe Marino can take me to get mine."

"Marino is very busy and, my plan is simple," I said.

"Danny will drive my car to Richmond and he has a reliable friend who will drive your Suburban. Then Danny and his friend will take the bus back to Norfolk."

"What time?" -That's the only snag. I can't permit Danny to do any of this until after hours, because he can't deliver my personal car on state time." I was opening a bottle of Chardonnay.

"Shit," Lucy impatiently said. "So I won't have transportation tomorrow, either?"

"I'm afraid neither of us will," I said.

"And what are you going to do, then?"

I handed her a glass of wine. "I'll be going into my office and probably spending a lot of time on the phone.

Anything you might be able to do at the field office here?"

She shrugged. "I know a couple people who went through the Academy with me."

At the very least she could find another agent to take her to the gym so she could work off her ugly mood, I started to say, but held my tongue.

"I don't want wine." She set the glass down on the bar.

"I think I'll just drink beer for a while."

"Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not angry." She got a Beck's Light out of the small refrigerator and popped off the cap.

"Do you want to sit down?"

"No," she said. "By the way, I've got the Book, so don't get alarmed when you don't find it in your briefcase."

"What do you mean, you have it?" I looked uneasily at her.

"I was reading it while you were out talking to Mrs. Eddings." She took a swallow of beer. "I thought it would be a good idea to go over it again in case there's something we didn't notice."

"I think you've looked at it quite enough," I flatly said.

"in fact, I think all of us have."

"There's a lot of Old Testament-type stuff in there. I mean, it's not like it's satanic, really."

I watched her in silence as I wondered what was really going on in that incredibly complicated brain.

"I actually find it rather interesting, and believe it has power only if you allow it to have power. I don't allow it, so it doesn't bother me," she was saying.

I set down my glass. "Well, something certainly is."

"Only thing bothering me is I'm stranded and tired. So guess I'll just go to bed," she said. "I hope you sleep well."

But I did not. Instead, I sat before the fire worrying about her, for I probably knew my niece better than anyone did.