“IRS. Must be about all my charitable trusts,” he said, pressing his flashing blue earpiece to answer. “Marino … Yup … Just hanging out. You? … Hold on. I’m going to start writing.”

Everyone got quiet so he could talk. He set down the PDA on the coffee table and placed his notepad on his wide knee. He started scribbling. Upside down or right side up, Marino’s writing looked about the same. Scarpetta had never been able to read it, at least not without tremendous annoyance, because he had his own version of shorthand. No matter the cracks he made, in truth, his writing was far worse than hers.

“I don’t mean to be a smart-ass about it,” Marino said. “But first off, when you said Isle of Man, where the hell is that? I assume it’s one of these Caribbean tax havens or maybe one of those islands near Fiji… . Now, that’s something. Never heard of it, and I’ve been there before. I mean to England… . I realize it isn’t exactly in England. I know Isle of Man’s a fucking island, but in case you flunked geography, England’s a fucking island.”

Scarpetta leaned close to Benton’s ear and wished him good luck. She felt like telling him she loved him, which was unusual with people around. But for some reason she wanted to say it, but she didn’t. She got up and hesitated, because Marino seemed about to get off the phone.

“No offense, but we knew that. We got that address,” Marino said.

He looked at Bacardi and shook his head as if the IRS agent he was talking to was dumber than a bag of hammers—one of Marino’s favorite expressions.

He said, “That’s right … Nope, you must mean One-A. So it’s Terri Bridges. I know it’s an LLC and you don’t got a name yet, but that’s her apartment … No. Not Two-D. She’s in One-A.” He frowned. “You sure, I mean damn sure? … Wait a minute. That guy’s a Brit, right? Well, he’s Italian but lives in the UK, is a UK citizen … Okay. So it fits with the Isle of Man shit, I guess. But you’d better be right, because in maybe half an hour, that fucking door’s getting kicked in.”

Marino touched his earpiece and disconnected the IRS without a thanks or a good-bye.