cpatricia.unnaturalexposure-第23部分

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　'To　answer　your　question；'　he　said。　'I　would　find　it　extremely　unusual。　You're　talking　two　different　profiles。　The　meat　saw　is　manual；　physical；　usually　ten　teeth　per　inch。　It　will　go　through　tissue　and　takes　a　lot　of　bone　with　each　stroke；　the　saw　marks　rougher…looking；　more　indicative　of　someone　skilled　and　powerful。　And　it's　also　important　to　remember　that　in　each　of　those　earlier　cases　the　perpetrator　cut　through　joints；　versus　the　shafts；　which　is　also　very　rare。'
　'It's　not　the　same　person。'　I　again　voiced　my　growing　belief。
　Canter　took　the　bone　from　my　hand　and　looked　at　me。　'That's　my　vote。'
　When　I　returned　to　the　lobby　of　the　M。E。's　office；　Marino　was　still　on　the　phone　down　the　hall。　I　waited　a　little　while；　then　stepped　outside　because　I　needed　air。　I　needed　sunshine　and　sights　that　weren't　savage。　Some　twenty　minutes　passed　before　he　finally　walked　out　and　joined　me　by　the　car。
　'I　didn't　know　you　was　here；'　he　said。　'If　someone　had　told　me；　I　would've　got　off　the　phone。'
　'It's　all　right。　What　a　gorgeous　day。'
　He　unlocked　the　car。
　'How'd　it　go？'　he　asked；　sliding　into　the　driver's　seat。
　I　briefly　summarized　as　we　sat　in　the　parking　lot；　not　going　anywhere。
　'You　want　to　go　back　to　the　Peabody？'　he　asked；　tapping　the　steering　wheel　with　his　thumb。
　I　knew　exactly　what　he　wanted　to　do。
　'No；'　I　said。　'Graceland　might　be　just　what　the　doctor　ordered。'
　He　shoved　the　car　in　gear　and　could　not　suppress　a　big　grin。
　'We　want　the　Fowler　Expressway；'　I　said；　for　I　had　studied　a　map。
　'I　wish　you　could　get　me　his　autopsy　report；'　he　started　on　that　again。　'I　want　to　see　for　myself　what　happened　to　him。　Then　I'll　know　and　it　won't　eat　at　me　anymore。'
　'What　do　you　want　to　know？'　I　looked　at　him。
　'If　it　was　like　they　said。　Did　he　die　on　the　toilet？　That's　always　bothered　the　hell　out　of　me。　You　know　how　many　cases　like　that　I've　seen？'　He　glanced　at　me。　'Don't　matter　if　you're　some　drone　or　the　president　of　the　United　States。　You　end　up　dead　with　a　ring　around　your　butt。　Hope　to　hell　that　don't　happen　to　me。'
　'Elvis　was　found　on　the　floor　of　his　bathroom。　He　was　nude；　and　yes；　it　is　believed　that　he　slid　off　his　black　porcelain　toilet。'
　'Who　found　him？'　Marino　was　entranced　in　an　uneasy　way。
　'A　girlfriend　who　was　staying　in　the　adjoining　room。　Or　that's　the　story；'　I　said。
　'You　mean　he　walks　in　there；　feels　fine；　sits　down　and　boom？　No　warning　signs　or　nothing？'
　'All　I　know　is　he'd　been　playing　racquetball　in　the　early　morning；　and　seemed　fine；'　I　said。
　'You're　kidding。'　Marino's　curiosity　was　insatiable。　'Now；　I　never　heard　that　part。　I　didn't　know　he　played　racquetball。'
　We　drove　through　an　industrialized　area；　with　trains　and　trucks；　then　past　campers　for　sale。　Graceland　stood　in　the　midst　of　cheap　motels　and　stores；　and　it　did　not　seem　so　grand　given　its　surroundings。　The　white　mansion　with　its　columns　was　pletely　out　of　place；　like　a　joke　or　a　set　for　a　bad　movie。
　'Holy　shit；'　Marino　said；　as　he　pulled　into　the　parking　lot。　'Will　you　look　at　that。　Holy　smoke。'
　He　went　on　as　if　it　were　Buckingham　Palace　as　he　parked　beside　a　bus。
　'You　know；　I　wish　I　could've　known　him；'　he　wistfully　said。
　'Maybe　you　would　have；　had　he　taken　better　care　of　himself。'　I　opened　my　door　as　he　lit　a　cigarette。
　For　the　next　two　hours；　we　wandered　through　gilt　and　mirrors；　shag　carpeting　and　stained…glass　peacocks　as　the　voice　of　Elvis　followed　us　through　his　world。　Hundreds　of　fans　had　arrived　on　buses；　and　their　passion　for　this　man　was　on　their　faces　as　they　walked　around　listening　to　the　tour　on　cassette。　Many　of　them　placed　flowers；　cards　and　letters　on　his　grave。　Some　wept　as　if　they　had　known　him　well。
　We　wandered　around　his　purple　and　pink　Cadillacs；　Stutz　Blackhawk　and　museum　of　other　cars。　There　were　his　planes　and　shooting　range；　and　the　Hall　of　Gold；　with　Grammy　showcases　of　gold　and　platinum　records；　and　trophies　and　other　awards　that　amazed　even　me。　The　hall　was　at　least　eighty　feet　long。　I　could　not　take　my　eyes　off　splendid　costumes　of　gold　and　sequins；　and　photographs　of　what　was　truly　an　extraordinarily　and　sensuously　beautiful　human　being。　Marino　was　blatantly　gawking；　an　almost　pained　expression　on　his　face　that　reminded　me　of　puppy　love　as　we　inched　our　way　through　rooms。
　'You　know；　they　didn't　want　him　to　move　here　when　he　bought　this　place；'　he　announced；　and　we　were　outside　now；　the　fall　afternoon　cool　and　bright。　'Some　of　the　snobs　in　this　city　never　did　accept　him。　I　think　that　hurt　him；　in　a　way；　might　be　what　got　him　in　the　end。　You　know；　why　he　took　painkillers。'
　'He　took　more　than　that；'　I　made　the　point　again　as　we　walked。
　'If　you　had　been　the　medical　examiner；　could　you　have　done　his　autopsy？'　He　got　out　cigarettes。
　'Absolutely。'
　'And　you　wouldn't　have　covered　his　face？'　He　looked　indignant　as　he　fired　up　his　lighter。
　'Of　course　not。'
　'Not　me。'　He　shook　his　head；　sucking　in　smoke。　'No　friggin'　way　I'd　even　want　to　be　in　the　room。'
　'I　wish　he　had　been　my　case；'　I　said。　'I　wouldn't　have　signed　him　out　as　a　natural　death。　The　world　should　know　the　truth；　so　maybe　somebody　else　would　think　twice　about　popping　Percodan。'
　We　were　in　front　of　one　of　the　gift　shops　now；　and　people　were　gathered　around　televisions　inside；　watching　Elvis　videos。　Through　outdoor　speakers；　he　was　singing　'Kentucky　Rain；'　his　voice　powerful　and　playful；　unlike　any　other　I　had　ever　heard　in　my　life。　I　started　walking　again　and　told　the　truth。
　'I　am　a　fan　and　have　a　rather　extensive　collection　of　his　CDs；　if　you　really　must　know；'　I　said　to　Marino。
　He　couldn't　believe　it。　He　was　thrilled。
　'And　I'd　appreciate　it　if　you　didn't　spread　that　around。'
　'All　these　years　I've　known　you；　and　you　never　told　me？'　he　exclaimed。　'You're　not　kidding　me；　right？　I　never　would've　thought　that。　Not　in　a　million　years。　Hey；　so　maybe　now　you　know　I　got　taste。'
　This　went　on　as　we　waited　for　a　shuttle　to　return　us　to　the　parking　lot；　and　then　it　continued　in　the　car。
　'I　remember　watching　him　on　TV　once　when　I　was　a　kid　in　New　Jersey；'　Marino　was　saying。　'My　old　man　came　in　drunk；　as　usual；　started　yelling　at　me　to　switch　the　channel。　I'll　never　forget　it。'
　He　slowed　and　turned　into　the　Peabody　Hotel。
　'Elvis　was　singing　〃Hound　Dog；〃　July　1956。　I　remember　it　was　my　birthday。　My　father　es　in；　cussing；　turns　the　TV　off；　and　I　get　up　and　turn　it　back　on。　He　smacks　the　side　of　my　head；　turns　the　TV　off　again。　I　turn　it　back　on　and　walk　toward　him。　First　time　in　my　life　I　ever　laid　a　hand　on　him。　I　slam　him　against　the　wall；　get　in　his　face；　tell　the　son　of　a　bitch　he　ever　touches　me　or　my　mother　again；　I'm　going　to　kill　him。'
　'And　did　he？'　I　asked　as　the　valet　opened　my　door。
　'Shit　no。'
　'Then　Elvis　should　be　thanked；'　I　said。
　
　
　7
　
　TWO　DAYS　LATER；　on　Thursday；　November　6；　I　started　out　early　on　the　ninety…minute　drive　from　Richmond　to　the　FBI　Academy　at　Quantico；　Virginia。　Marino　and　I　took　separate　cars；　since　we　never　knew　when　something　might　happen　to　send　us　off　somewhere。　For　me；　it　could　be　a　plane　crash　or　derailed　train；　while　he　had　to　deal　with　city　government　and　layers　of　brass。　I　wasn't　surprised　when　my　car　phone　rang　as　we　neared　Fredericksburg。　The　sun　was　in　and　out　of　clouds；　and　it　felt　cold　enough　to　snow。
　'Scarpetta；'　I　said；　on　speakerphone。
　Marino's　voice　erupted　inside　my　car。　'City　council's　freaking；'　he　said。　'You　got　McKuen　whose　little　kid's　been　hit　by　a　car；　now　more　crap　about　our　case；　on　TV；　in　the　papers；　hear　it　on　the　radio。'
　More　leaks　had　occurred　over　the　past　two　days。　Police　had　a　suspect　in　serial　murders　that　included　five　cases　in　Dublin。　An　arrest　was　imminent。
　'You　believe　this　shit？'　Marino　exclaimed。　'We're　talking　about；　what？　Someone　in　his　mid…twenties；　and　somehow　he　was　in　Dublin　over　the　past　few　years？　Bottom　line　is　council's　suddenly　decided　to　have　some　public　forum　about　this　situation；　probably　because　they　think　it's　about　to　be　resolved。　Got　to　get　that　credit；　right；　make　the　citizens　think　maybe　they　did　something　for　once。'　He　was　careful　what　he　said；　but　seething。　'So　I　gotta　turn　my　ass　right　back　around　and　be　at　city　hall　by　ten。　Plus；　the　chief　wan