cpatricia.unnaturalexposure-第57部分

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per　chloride　and　hydrochloric　acid　to　dissolve　scarred　metal　and　restore　the　deeply　stamped　number　underneath　that　the　killer　thought　he　had　filed　away。
　'People　don't　realize　how　difficult　it　is　to　get　rid　of　one　of　these　things；'　his　voice　filled　my　ears。
　'Unless　they're　professional　car　thieves。'　I　said。
　'Well；　whoever　did　this　didn't　do　a　very　good　job。'　He　was　taking　photographs。　'I　think　we　got　it。'
　'Let's　hope　the　camper's　registered；'　I　said。
　'Who　knows？　Maybe　we'll　get　lucky。'
　'What　about　prints？'
　The　door　and　aluminum　around　it　were　smudged　with　black　dusting　powder。
　'Some；　but　God　knows　whose；'　he　said　getting　up　and　straightening　his　back。　'In　a　minute；　I'll　tear　up　the　inside。'
　Meanwhile；　Lucy　was　tearing　up　the　puter；　and　like　me；　not　ing　up　with　anything　that　might　tell　us　who　deadoc　was。　But　she　did　find　files　he　had　saved　of　our　conversations　in　the　chat　rooms；　and　it　was　chilling　to　see　them　on　screen；　and　wonder　how　often　he　had　reread　them。　There　were　detailed　lab　notes　documenting　the　propagation　of　the　virus　cells；　and　this　was　interesting。　It　appeared　work　had　begun　as　recently　as　early　in　the　fall；　less　than　two　months　before　the　torso　had　turned　up。
　By　late　afternoon；　we　had　done　all　we　could　do　with　no　startling　revelations。　We　took　chemical　showers　as　the　camper　was　blasted　with　formalin　gas。　I　stayed　in　my　army…green　house　clothes　because　I　did　not　want　my　suit　after　what　it　had　been　through。
　'Kind　of　hell　on　your　wardrobe；'　Lucy　mented　as　we　left　the　changing　room。　'Maybe　you　should　try　pearls　with　that。　Dress　it　up　a　little。'
　'Sometimes　you　sound　like　Marino；'　I　said。
　
　Days　crept　into　the　weekend；　and　next　I　knew　that　was　gone　too　with　no　developments　that　were　anything　but　maddening。　I　had　missed　my　mother's　birthday。　Not　once　had　it　crossed　my　mind。
　'What？　You　got　Alzheimer's　now？'　she　unkindly　told　me　over　the　phone。　'You　don't　e　down　here。　Now　you　don't　even　bother　to　call。　It's　not　like　I'm　getting　younger。'
　She　began　to　cry；　and　I　felt　like　it。
　'Christmas；'　I　said　what　I　did　every　year。　'I'll　work　something　out。　I'll　bring　Lucy。　I　promise。　It's　not　that　far　away。'
　I　drove　downtown；　uninspired　and　weary　to　the　bone。　Lucy　had　been　right。　The　killer's　only　use　of　the　phone　line　at　the　campground　was　to　dial　into　AOL；　and　in　the　end；　all　that　came　back　to　was　Perley's　stolen　credit　card。　Deadoc　did　not　call　anymore。　I　had　gotten　obsessive　about　checking　and　sometimes　found　myself　waiting　in　that　chat　room　when　I　could　not　even　be　sure　the　FBI　was　watching　anymore。
　The　frozen　virus　source　I　found　in　the　camper's　nitrogen　freezer　remained　unknown。　Attempts　at　mapping　its　DNA　continued；　and　scientists　at　CDC　knew　how　the　virus　was　different；　but　not　what　it　was；　and　thus　far；　vaccinated　primates　remained　susceptible　to　it。　Four　other　people；　including　two　watermen　who　turned　up　in　Crisfield；　had　e　down　with　only　mild　cases　of　the　disease。　No　one　else　seemed　to　be　getting　sick　as　the　quarantine　of　the　fishing　village　continued　and　its　economy　foundered。　As　for　Richmond；　only　Wingo　was　ill；　his　willowy　body　and　gentle　face　ravaged　by　pustules。　He　would　not　let　me　see　him；　no　matter　how　often　I　tried。
　I　was　devastated；　and　found　it　hard　to　worry　about　other　cases　because　this　one　would　not　end。　We　knew　the　dead　man　in　the　trailer　could　not　be　deadoc。　Fingerprints　had　e　back　to　a　drifter　with　a　long　arrest　record　of　crimes　mostly　involving　theft　and　drugs；　and　two　counts　of　assault　and　attempted　rape。　He　was　out　on　parole　when　he　had　used　his　pocketknife　to　pry　open　the　camper　door；　and　no　one　doubted　that　his　shotgun　death　was　a　homicide。
　I　walked　into　my　office　at　eight…fifteen。　When　Rose　heard　me；　she　came　through　her　doorway。
　'I　hope　you　got　some　rest；'　she　said；　more　worried　about　me　than　I'd　ever　seen。
　'I　did。　Thanks。'　I　smiled；　and　her　concern　made　me　feel　guilty　and　shamed；　as　if　I　were　bad　somehow。　'Any　new　developments？'
　'Not　about　Tangier。'　I　could　see　the　anxiety　in　her　eyes。　'Try　to　get　your　mind　off　it；　Dr　Scarpetta。　We've　got　five　cases　this　morning。　Look　at　the　top　of　your　desk。　If　you　can　find　it。　And　I'm　at　least　two　weeks　behind　on　correspondence　and　micros　because　of　your　not　being　here　to　dictate。'
　'Rose；　I　know；　I　know；'　I　said；　not　unkindly。　'First　things　first。　Try　Phyllis　again。　And　if　they　still　say　she's　out　sick；　get　a　number　where　she　can　be　reached。　I've　been　trying　her　home　number　for　days　and　no　one　answers。'
　'If　I　get　her；　you　want　me　to　put　her　through？'
　'Absolutely；'　I　said。
　That　happened　fifteen　minutes　later　when　I　was　about　to　go　into　staff　meeting。　Rose　got　Phyllis　Crowder　on　the　line。
　'Where　on　earth　are　you？　And　how　are　you？'　I　asked。
　'This　wretched　flu；'　she　said。　'Don't　get　it。'
　'I　did　and　am　still　getting　rid　of　it；'　I　said。　'I've　tried　your　house　in　Richmond。'
　'Oh；　I'm　at　my　mother's；　in　Newport　News。　You　know；　I　work　a　four…day　week　and　have　been　spending　the　other　three　days　out　here　for　years。'
　I　did　not　know　that。　But　we　had　never　socialized。
　'Phyllis；'　I　said；　'I　hate　to　bother　you　when　you're　not　well；　but　I　need　your　help　with　something。　In　1978　there　was　a　laboratory　accident　at　the　lab　in　Birmingham；　England；　where　you　once　worked。　I've　pulled　what　I　can　on　it；　and　know　only　that　a　medical　photographer　was　working　directly　over　a　smallpox　lab　。　。　。'
　'Yes；　yes；'　she　interrupted　me。　'I　know　all　about　it。　Supposedly；　the　photographer　was　exposed　through　a　ventilator　duct；　and　she　died。　The　virologist　mitted　suicide。　The　case　is　cited　all　the　time　by　people　who　argue　in　favor　of　destroying　all　frozen　source　virus。'
　'Were　you　working　in　that　lab　when　this　happened？'
　'No；　thank　goodness。　That　was　some　years　after　I　left。　I　was　already　in　the　States　by　then。'
　I　was　disappointed；　and　she　went　into　a　coughing　spell　and　could　hardly　talk。
　'Sorry。'　She　coughed。　'This　is　when　you　hate　living　alone。'
　'You　don't　have　anyone　looking　in　on　you？'
　'No。'
　'What　about　food？'
　'I　manage。'
　'Why　don't　I　bring　you　something；'　I　said。
　'I　wouldn't　hear　of　it。'
　'I'll　help　you　if　you'll　help　me；'　I　added。　'Do　you　have　any　files　on　Birmingham？　Concerning　the　work　going　on　when　you　were　there？　Anything　you　could　look　up？'
　'Buried　somewhere　in　this　house；　I'm　sure；'　she　said。
　'Unbury　them　and　I'll　bring　stew。'
　I　was　out　the　door　in　five　minutes；　running　to　my　car。　Heading　home；　I　got　several　quarts　of　my　homemade　stew　out　of　the　freezer；　then　I　filled　the　tank　with　gas　before　going　east　on　64。　I　told　Marino　on　the　car　phone　what　I　was　doing。
　'You've　really　lost　it　this　time；'　he　exclaimed。　'Drive　over　a　hundred　miles　to　take　someone　food？　You　coulda　called　Domino's。'
　'That's　not　the　point。　And　believe　me；　I　have　one。'　I　put　sunglasses　on。　'There　may　be　something　here。　She　may　know　something　that　could　help。'
　'Yo；　let　me　know；'　he　said。　'You　got　your　pager　on；　right？'　'Right。'
　Traffic　was　light　this　time　of　day；　and　I　kept　the　cruise　control　on　sixty…nine　so　I　did　not　get　a　ticket。　In　less　than　an　hour；　I　was　bypassing　Williamsburg；　and　about　twenty　minutes　later；　following　directions　Crowder　had　given　me　for　her　address　in　Newport　News。　The　neighborhood　was　called　Brandon　Heights；　where　the　economic　class　was　mixed；　and　houses　got　bigger　as　they　got　nearer　the　James　River。　Hers　was　a　modest　two…story　frame　recently　painted　eggshell　white；　the　yard　and　landscaping　well　maintained。
　I　parked　behind　a　van　and　collected　the　stew；　my　pocketbook　and　briefcase　slung　over　a　shoulder。　When　Phyllis　Crowder　came　to　the　door；　she　looked　like　hell；　her　face　pale；　and　eyes　burning　with　fever。　She　was　dressed　in　a　flannel　robe　and　leather　slippers　that　looked　like　they　might　once　have　belonged　to　a　man。
　'I　can't　believe　how　nice　you　are；'　she　said　as　she　opened　the　door。　'Either　that　or　crazy。'
　'Depends　on　who　you　ask。'
　I　stepped　inside；　pausing　to　look　at　framed　photographs　along　the　dark　paneled　entrance　hall。　Most　of　them　were　of　people　hiking　and　fishing　and　had　been　taken　in　long　years　past。　My　eyes　were　fixed　on　one；　an　older　man　wearing　a　pale　blue　hat　and　holding　a　cat　as　he　grinned　around　a　corncob　pipe。
　'My　father；'　Crowder　s