Patricia Cornwell - Cause Of Death

"Go ahead, one-seventeen, II the dispatcher said to some body else.

"I checked the lot front and back, Captain," Unit 117 said to Marino. "No sign of the vehicle you described."

"Ten-four." Marino lowered the radio and looked very annoyed. "Lucy's Suburban ain't at your office. I don't get it," he said to me. "None of this is making sense."

We began walking back to Libby Hill Park because it really wasn't far, and we wanted to talk.

"What it's looking like to me is Danny might have picked somebody up," Marino said as he lit a cigarette.

"Sure sounds like it could be drugs."

"He wouldn't do that when he was delivering my car," I said, and I knew I sounded naive. "He wouldn't pick anybody up."

Marino turned to me. "Come on," he said. "You don't know that."

"I've never had any reason to think he was irresponsible or into drugs or anything else."

"Well, I think it's obvious he was into an alternative life, as they say."

"I don't know that at all." I was tired of that talk.

"You better find out because you got a lot of blood on YOU."

"These days I worry about that no matter who it is."

"Look, what I'm saying is people you know do disappointing things," he went on as the lights of the city spread below us. "And sometimes people you don't know very well are worse than ones you don't know at all. You trusted I Danny because you liked him and thought he did a good job. But he could have been into anything behind the scenes, and you weren't going to know."

I did not reply. What he said was true.

"He's a nice-looking kid, a pretty boy. And now He's driving this unbelievable ride. The best could have been tempted to maybe do a little trolling before turning in the boss's ride. Or maybe he just wanted to score a little dope." I was more concerned that Danny had fallen prey to an attempted carjacking, and I pointed out that there had been a rash of them downtown and in this area.

"Maybe," Marino said as my car came into view. "But your ride's still here. Why do you walk someone down the street and shoot them, and leave the car right where it is?

Why not steal it? Maybe we should be worried about a gay bashing. You thought about that?" I We had arrived at my Mercedes, and reporters took more photographs and asked more questions as if this were the crime of all time. We ignored them as we moved around to the open driver's door and looked inside my S-320. I scanned armrests, ashtrays, dashboard and saddle leather upholstery, and saw nothing out of place. I saw no sign of a struggle, but the floor mat on the passenger's side was dirty. I noted the faint impressions left by shoes.

"This was the way it was found?" I asked. "What about the door being opened?"

"We opened the door. It was unlocked," Marino said.

"Nobody got inside?"

"No."

"This wasn't there before." I pointed to the floor mat.

"What?" Marino asked.

"See those shoe impressions and the dirt?" I spoke quietly so reporters could not hear. "There shouldn't have seat. Not while Danny was been anybody in the passenger's driving, and not earlier when it was being repaired at Virginia Beach." -What about Lucy?"

"No. She hasn't ridden with me recently. I can't think of anybody who has since it was cleaned last."

"Don't worry, we're going to vacuum everything." He looked away from me and reluctantly added, "You know we're going to have to impound it, Doc." -I understand." I said, and we started walking back to the street near the tunnel, where we had parked.

"I'm wondering if Danny was familiar with Richmond," Marino said.

"He's been to my office before," I replied, and my soul felt heavy. "In fact, when he was first hired, he did a week's internship with us. I don't remember where he stayed, but I think it was the Comfort Inn on Broad Street."

We walked in silence for a moment, and I added, "Obviously, he knew the area around my office."

"Yeah, and that includes here since your office is only about fifteen blocks from here."

Something occurred to me. "We don't know that he didn't just come up here tonight to get something to eat before the bus ride home. How do we know he wasn't just doing something mundane like that?"

Our cars were near several cruisers and a crime scene van, and the reporters had gone. I unlocked the station wagon door and got in. Marino stood with his hands in his pockets, a suspicious expression on his face because he knew me so well.

"You aren't posting him tonight, are you," he said.

"No." It wasn't necessary and I wouldn't put myself through it.

"And you don't want to go home. I can tell."

"There are things to do," I said. "The longer we wait, the more we might lose."

"Which places do you want to try?" he asked, because he knew what it was like to have someone you worked With killed. - Well, there's a number of places to eat right around here. Millie's, for example."

"Nope. Too high-dollar. Same with Patrick Henry's and Most of the joints in the Slip and Shockoe Bottom. Remember, Danny's not going to have a lot of money unless he's getting it from places we don't know about."

"Let's assume he's getting nothing from anywhere," I said. "Let's assume he wanted something that was a straight shot from my office, so he stayed on Broad Street."

"Poe's, which isn't on Broad, but is very close to Libby Hill Park. And of course there's the Cafe," he said.

"That's what I would say, too," I agreed.

When we walked into Poe's, the manager was ringing up the check of the last customer for the night. We waited what seemed a long time, only to be told that dinner had been slow and no one resembling Danny had come in. Returning to our cars, we continued east on Broad to the Hill Cafe at 28th Street, and my pulse picked up when I realized the restaurant was but one street down from where my Mercedes had been found.

Known for its Bloody Marys and chili, the cafe was on the corner. and over the years had been a favorite hangout for cops. So I had been here many times, usually with Marino. It was a true neighborhood bar, and at this hour, tables were still full, smoke thick in the air, the television loudly playing old Howie Long clips on ESPN. Daigo was drying glasses behind the bar when she saw Marino and gave him a toothy grin.

"Now what you doing in here so late?" she said as if it had never happened before. "Where were you earlier when things were popping?"

"So tell me," Marino said to her, "in the joint that makes the best steak sandwich in town, how's business been tonight?" He moved closer so others could not hear what he had to say.

Daigo was a wiry black woman, and she was eyeing me as if she had seen me somewhere before. "They were crawling in from everywhere earlier," she said. "I thought I was going to drop. Can I get something for you and your friend, Captain?"

"Maybe," he said. "You know the doc here, don't ya?"

She frowned and then recognition gleamed in her eyes.

"I knew I seen you in here before. With him. You two married yet?" She laughed as if this were the funniest thing she had ever said.

"Listen, Daigo," Marino went on,.1 we're wondering if a kid might have come in here today. White male, slender, long dark hair, real nice looking. Would have been wearing a leather jacket, jeans, a sweater, tennis shoes, and a bright red knee brace. About twenty-five years old and driving a new black Mercedes-Benz with a lot of antennas on it."

Her eyes narrowed and her face got grim as Marino continued to talk, the dish towel limp in her hand. I suspected the police had asked her questions in the past about other unpleasant matters, and I could tell by the set of her mouth that she had no use for lazy, bad people who felt nothing when they ruined decent lives.

"Oh, I know exactly who you mean," she said.