“What sort of events?” I asked as I began to imagine any number of threatening things.

“Two pizza delivery guys showed up at almost the same time. Then three taxis came to take you to the airport, one right after the other. And someone tried to deliver a construction Dumpster to your yard. When I couldn’t get hold of you, I turned every one of them around. They all said you had called them.”

“Well, I certainly did not,” I said with feeling as my bewilderment grew. “All this since when?”

“Well, I guess the truck with the Dumpster was here maybe around five this afternoon. Everything else since then.”

Tom was an old man who probably wouldn’t have had a clue as to how to defend the neighborhood should true danger ever come around the bend. But he was courteous and considered himself a true officer of the law and in his mind was probably armed and experienced in combat. He was especially protective of me.

“Did you get the names of any of these guys who showed up?” Marino loudly asked from the passenger seat.

“Domino’s and Pizza Hut.”

Tom’s animated face was shadowed beneath the brim of his baseball cap.

“And the cabs were Colonial, Metro, and Yellow Cab. The construction company was Frick. Now I took the liberty to make a few calls. Every one of ’em had orders in your name, Dr. Scarpetta, including the times you called. I got it written down.”

Tom could not hide how pleased he was when he slipped a square of notepaper from a back pocket and handed it to me. His role had been more than the usual this night, and he was almost intoxicated by it. I turned on the interior light and Marino and I scanned the list. The taxi and pizza orders had been placed between ten-ten and eleven, while the Dumpster order had been placed earlier in the afternoon with instructions for a late afternoon delivery.

“I know at least Domino’s said it was a woman who called. I talked to the dispatcher myself. A young kid. According to him, you called and said to just bring a large thick crust pizza supreme to the gate and you’d get it from there. I got his name written down, too,” Tom reported with great pride. “So none of this came from you, Dr. Scarpetta?” He wanted to make sure.

“No sir,” I answered. “And if anything else shows up tonight, I want you to call me right away.”

“Yo, call me, too,” said Marino, and he jotted his home number on a business card. “I don’t give a shit what time it is.”

I handed Marino’s card out my window and Tom looked carefully at it, even though Marino had passed through these gates more times than I could guess.