Page 3 of Sharp Force
“What’s the tip?” I ask, and it had better be legitimate.
I imagine my sister home on Christmas Eve while Marino is out with the cops, his favorite place to be if he’s honest about it. Which he’s not. A sexually violent psychopath is on the loose, a dangerous storm barreling in, and Dorothy is by herself. I wouldn’t blame her for being hurt and furious.
“I’m on my way to Dana Diletti’s house,” Marino continues to explain. “She requested me and Fruge by name.”
I’m sure she did.
“Do we know what the tip is?” I again ask.
“We won’t be told until we’re face-to-face,” he explains.
“How convenient. Hopefully her film crew won’t be waiting when you and Fruge roll up. And I hate that you left Dorothy by herself.” I go ahead and say it as something darts past my Tyvek-bootie-covered feet.
A tiny gray field mouse stops and starts, zigzagging about, and I assume it’s the same one that Marino nicknamed Pinky. Several days ago, the presumed Pinky visited my second-floor office after I’d left an unfinished chef’s salad on my desk.
He’s been sighted in the breakroom, various storage areas, hiding behind corn plants in the lobby, evading all catch-and-release efforts. Now he’s staring at me with shiny dark eyes, whiskers twitching.
“Our visitor is back,” I tell Marino. “He just scampered by. Now he’s looking at me.”
“Pinky?”
“Unless we have more than one mouse.”
“Maybe while Fabian’s on call tonight he’ll finally catch him. But don’t throw the little fella out the door into the cold. He won’t survive.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
“Doc, you should be heading home before the storm lands.”
“As soon as I finish what I’m doing.” I glance at Rowdy O’Leary’s body on my table, grateful his loved ones will never see him like this. “Then I have a stop along the way to drop off personal effects to the family.”
“Say what?”
I repeat myself.
“Why not send the stuff UPS like we always do?” Marino’s tone has turned disapproving.
“That’s a tough package to find on your doorstep, especially during the holiday season,” I explain as the mouse vanishes under a cabinet. “The O’Leary family lives off King Street on South Payne. I practically go right past.”
“That’s mighty nice of you, Doc.” Marino doesn’t want me doing it. “But no way you should. You don’t know these people.”
“I’m thinking of the wife and two young boys he left behind. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah, I know. It sucks. It always does.”
“A perfect occasion for a little extra kindness. And I have questions that might help me determine her husband’s manner of death. When you show up in person, it’s easier to get someone to talk…”
“It’s not a good idea to be doing something like that alone, Doc.”
“If I don’t figure out why he’s dead, I’ll have to sign him out asundetermined. I don’t want to do that—” I’m saying when Marino cuts me off.
“Got to go. I’m pulling into Dana Diletti’s driveway. And holy shit, she’s got her place decorated like a tacky tour, lights strung everywhere.”
He sounds wonderstruck, almost happy.
“The Grinch, Frosty the Snowman, Snoopy and his doghouse,” Marino marvels. “All kinds of amazing stuff that’s probably going to blow away in the storm. Happy to report there’s no sign of her film crew.”
“Glad to hear it, and where’s Fruge?”
