She says, “That might be what happened—Ed called Lupano for change. And by this point, Lupano’s drunk, maybe drugged, irrational. Ed’s concerned and goes upstairs.”

“Or maybe he went upstairs to get change,” Hollings says.

“Still implying Ed called him first.”

The detective walks away and says, “I’m going to ask him.”

“I have a feeling you and I have a few matters to clear up,” Hollings says to her.

She looks at the sky and thinks about flying.

“How about we find a private place to talk,” he says.

Across the street is White Point Gardens, several acres of Civil War monuments, live oak trees, and plugged cannon aimed at Fort Sumter. Scarpetta and Hollings sit on a bench.

“I know about Rose,” she says.

“I figured you might.”

“As long as you take care of her.”

“Seems you do a fine job of that. I had some of your stew earlier tonight.”

“Before you left and came back. So no one would realize you were already inside the building,” Scarpetta says.

“So you don’t mind,” he says, as if he needs her approval.

“As long as you’re good to her. Because if you’re not, I’ll do something about it.”

“I believe that.”

“I need to ask you about Lupano,” she says. “I’m wondering if you might have contacted him after I left your funeral home earlier today.”

“Might I ask why you’d wonder that?”

“Because you and I talked about him. I asked you why he might have attended Holly Webster’s funeral. I think you know what would enter my mind.”

“That I asked him about it.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s in the news that Lydia Webster’s missing and presumed dead,” Scarpetta says.

“He knew her. Very well. We talked for a long time. He was very upset.”

“Is Lydia why he’s kept an apartment here?”

“Kay—I hope you don’t mind if I call you that—I was well aware that Gianni attended Holly’s funeral last summer. I couldn’t let on that I was. It would have betrayed a confidence.”

“I’m growing so weary of people and their confidences.”

“I didn’t try to obstruct you. If you found out on your own…”

“I’m tired of that, too. Finding out on my own.”

“If you found out on your own he’d attended Holly’s funeral, that was fair enough. So I made the guest books available to you. I understand your frustration. But you’d do the same thing. You wouldn’t betray a confidence, now, would you?”

“Depends. That’s what I’ve about decided.”

Hollings looks at the lighted windows of the apartment building. He says, “Now I have to worry I’m somehow responsible.”

“What confidence?” Scarpetta asks. “Since we’re talking about them and you seem to have a secret.”