Marino evidently placed his hand over the receiver and mumbled something. When he got back to me he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” I said . “I didn’t know you had company.”

“Yeah.”

He paused.

“I would be delighted if you and your friend would come to dinner tomorrow,” I offered.

“The Sheraton’s got this buffet. We was going to go to that.”

“Well, there’s something for you under the tree. If you change your mind, give me a call in the morning.”

“I don’t believe it. You broke down and got a tree? Bet it’s an ugly little sucker.”

“The envy of the neighborhood, thank you very much,” I said.”

Wish your friend a Merry Christmas for me.”

7

Kay Scarpetta 4 - Cruel and Unusual

7

I woke up the next morning to church bells chiming and draperies glowing with the sun. Though I’d had very little to drink the night before, I felt hung over. Lingering in bed, I fell back to sleep and saw Mark in my dreams.

When I finally got up, the kitchen was fragrant with vanilla and oranges. Lucy was grinding coffee beans.

“You’re going to spoil me, and then what will I do? Merry Christmas.”

I kissed the top of her head, noticing an unusual bag of cereal on the counter. “What’s this?”

“Cheshire muesli. A special treat. I brought my own supply. It’s best with plain yogurt if you’ve got it, which you don’t. So we’ll have to settle for skim milk and bananas. Plus, we have fresh orange juice and decaffeinated French vanilla coffee. I guess we should call Mom and Grans.”

While I dialed my mother’s number from the kitchen, Lucy went into my study to use that extension. My sister was already at my mother’s, and soon the four of us were on the line, my mother complaining at great length about the weather. It was storming fiercely in Miami, she said. Torrential rains accompanied by punishing winds had begun late Christmas Eve, the morning celebrated by a grand illumination of lightning.

“You shouldn’t be on the phone during an electrical storm,” I said to them. “We’ll call back later.”

“You’re so paranoid, Kay,” Dorothy chided. “You look at everything in terms of how it might kill somebody.”

“Lucy, tell me about your presents,” my mother interjected.

“Grans, we haven’t opened them yet.”

“Wow. That was really close,” Dorothy exclaimed above crackling static. “The lights just flickered.”

“Mom, I hope you don’t have a file open on your computer,” Lucy said. “Because if you do, you probably just lost whatever you were working on.”

“Dorothy, did you remember to bring butter?” my mother asked.

“Damn. I knew there was something…”

“I must have reminded you three times last night.”

“I’ve told you I can’t remember things when you call me while I’m writing, Mother.”