Page 93 of Unnatural Death

“Hopefully not outside in this weather.”

“You’d be surprised what he roams around in,” I reply.

CHAPTER 35

THE TWO-STORY MANOR house where Benton and I live is white brick with a gray slate roof and original to the property. Smoke drifts from one of two tall chimneys, dissipating in the snowy overcast. Lights glow in the windows, a jack-o’-lantern brightly grinning next to the front door. It opens wide, and Dorothy is there waving and smiling.

She’s wearing an orange pumpkin onesie that I’ve not seen before, the green stalk hoodie pulled up, her ample bosom barely covered by leaves. An orange glowstick flashes around her neck, and she rarely misses an opportunity to wear something outrageous and clingy. My sister is known for it on social media, where she earns a good living as an influencer.

“Her getups are something,” Fruge says admiringly. “The other day it was a wicked witch onesie with red-striped stockings. I keep up with her on Instagram. I have to admit she’s very entertaining.”

“She’ll celebrate Halloween another week or so and then move on to Thanksgiving themes like pilgrims, cornucopias and who knows what,” I reply as Fruge stares wistfully at the house, the wipers going fast.

“Your place always looks so inviting,” she says.

“Are you on duty tomorrow?” I take off my shoulder harness.

“I’ll be busy following up on all kinds of stuff. And the night’s not over. In other words, I don’t know what I’ll be doing.”

“Maybe you’ll have time to come over for supper?” Looping the strap of my briefcase over my shoulder, I open my door.

“I’ll never say no to your cooking, Doctor Scarpetta. Let me help with your gear.” Chivalrous as always, she starts to climb out.

“Stay put,” I tell her. “I’ve got everything. But thank you again, Blaise.” I grab my black Pelican case and other items from the backseat.

“Hello! Hello!” My sister shouts and waves.

Fruge answers with a whelp of the siren that I could have done without. Shutting car doors with my hip, I’m careful going up the snow-covered steps as Dorothy waits in the doorway.

“I feel bad not inviting her in,” she says sadly as Fruge turns around, snow crunching beneath the tires. “It seems so inhospitable.” Dorothy seems upset.

“She has to get back where my disabled car’s about to be towed.” I knock the snow off my feet as Dorothy peers at me.

“Well, you look perfectly dreadful.”

“Thank you, and for good reason.” I close the door.

Classical music is playing softly, Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major, and it’s one of my all-time favorites, even if cliché. I smell good things from the kitchen. Garlic and tomatoes, and my stomach growls. Pulling back her hood, my sister musses her short platinum hair. She has on smoky green eye shadow and silver Halloween-themed rings and bangles.

“What the hell happened, Kay?” She stares at my face with exaggerated empathy.

“A fender bender.”

I explain that I may have hit black ice near Ivy Hill Cemetery. But that’s all I’m going to say, and I take off my boots.

“You look like you’ve been slapped really hard.” She appraises me disapprovingly, and I can tell she’s been drinking. “Goodness, that must smart like holy hell.”

“A different kind of road rash.” As I’m talking, my abraded skin is burning. “The airbag spared me some traumas and caused others.”

“Isn’t that the way with everything?” Dorothy eyes me as if I’m a project she might undertake. “Well, you’ve come to the right person.” Her upbeat attitude doesn’t disguise her mood. Something is eating away at her.

“The right person for what?” I hang up my jacket inside the entryway closet.

“Some of my magic.”

“As long as it includes food and drink, because I’m about out of gas, Dorothy.” I arrange my scene case and other gear on the pumpkin pine flooring that’s a major reason I fell in love with the property.

The house and its two outbuildings were designed by the sea captain who lived here in the early seventeen hundreds. His ship was docked on the Potomac and in view from the upstairs main bedroom. At low tide I can see the pilings left from the pier once there. I imagine him standing before the wavy glass, looking out at the water and the weather.

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