Page 52 of Sharp Force (Kay Scarpetta #29)

Reaching the wine cellar, I can’t believe my eyes. Dorothy and Benton are hugging, her low-cut Santa onesie pressed up against him. I watch stunned as she kisses him on the mouth.

“I was looking for Merlin.” My voice seems to come from someone else.

They pull apart with wide frightened eyes.

Caught in the act.

Swift punishment to follow.

“It’s not how it looks,” Benton says while my sister shrugs with a gleam of satisfaction.

She smiles, pointing up to a clump of mistletoe attached to a rafter.

“Oh, now don’t be getting all upset, it was nothing.” She flaps her hand at me. “We were being silly.”

“That’s not what you were being,” I reply.

“She caught me by surprise. I was about to stop it…” Benton stares at my sister as if she’s the worst of traitors. “Jesus, Dorothy. What are you trying to do? Fucking ruin everything for everyone?”

“Don’t make such a big thing out of it,” she retorts. “I was being sappy. You know how I can get.”

“Has this happened before?” That’s what I really want to know.

“Never.” Benton is emphatic.

“But it should have.” Dorothy is getting emotional. “Just as you and Marino should go ahead and fuck and get it over with. Maybe then all of us could move beyond this ridiculous facade. Why pretend? He’s more into you than me and always has been!”

She goes on and on about Janet being right.

Janet is the only one who doesn’t lie. Janet has the courage to tell inconvenient truths, and Dorothy for one is paying attention.

Doesn’t matter how hard it is, we have to face reality.

If she’d faced it long ago, she wouldn’t have been so foolish. She wouldn’t have married Marino.

“Why am I here?” she exclaims, tears spilling down her bronzed cheeks.

“I was happy in Florida but threw it all away for him. I wish I’d never given up my beautiful place in Boca with its covered pool and boat slip!

And my fabulous office with its view of the Intracoastal Waterway! I wish I’d never moved here!”

“I’m glad you did,” I reply. “Most of the time. Right now, I’m not so sure.”

“It feels bad, doesn’t it, Kay?” She dabs her made-up eyes with a tissue. “When your person likes someone better than you? When they pretend otherwise but you know.”

“That would be terrible. I’m sorry if you’ve felt that way.” I’m not going to lie.

“He married me because he couldn’t have you.”

“I don’t believe that, Dorothy. But I understand why you would think it after hearing some of the comments Janet’s been making. I’d feel the same way if the roles were reversed.”

Dorothy’s smeared lipstick mouth opens but she doesn’t utter a sound.

“I don’t blame you for hitting on Benton and can understand why that would happen now. Payback for what Janet’s been saying about Marino and me,” I add to her growing befuddlement.

“But it must be true if she says it,” Dorothy sniffs, dabbing her eyes.

“She gets her information from us,” Benton replies. “Whatever anybody has said or even worried about is fodder for the algorithm.”

“Most of all Lucy, I suppose.” Dorothy sighs, staring blearily at me. “Long ago when Pete and Kay were first working together, Lucy was convinced Pete had the hots for you.”

“Lucy was threatened by everyone back then,” Benton says. “Including me.”

“I’m headed to the greenhouse if you want to come along?” I offer my sister.

She nods, wiping her eyes on her fluffy cuffed sleeve as I hear Marino’s heavy feet on the steps. He thuds back up to the kitchen, and I look at Dorothy. I have no doubt he heard the entire conversation.

“Fucking hell,” she says.

“Fucking hell is right,” Benton echoes.

“Go,” I tell Dorothy. “You’d better straighten it out with him.”

She scurries off, her Santa feet quiet on the steps. Benton and I are in front of the wine cooler staring at each other.

“Are you going to put the hammer down?” he says.

I return it to the workbench.

“What were you going to do with it?”

“I didn’t know who was down here. You two were so quiet,” I reply.

“She said she needed a big hug. Things with Marino have been strained, and she was feeling unloved,” he explains.

“Of course she started it.” I have no doubt of that.

“It doesn’t matter. I should have known hugging was a bad idea.”

“You two were quiet for a while. It must have been a long hug.”

“She was needy,” Benton confesses. “And my defenses were lowered by too much Pappy Van Winkle on an empty stomach.”

“Under the mistletoe no less.” I look up at a sprig that Dorothy must have bought fresh somewhere. “I believe that’s called premeditation.”

“She bought it and hung it down here. Then asked me to pick out wine with her.” Benton pieces it together.

“That and Santa’s plunging neckline,” I add as a smile tugs.

“All to make Marino jealous.” Benton shakes his head, and he’s smiling too.

“And don’t forget putting me in my place,” I decide.

“Case exceptionally cleared.” Benton starts laughing.

Then both of us are and unable to stop. Taking deep breaths, we wipe our eyes, frazzled and tired. Benton opens the wine cooler door, and we peruse together, arms around each other. We pick out two very nice Chateau Margaux red burgundies that go with anything. Even tacos.

When we return upstairs to the kitchen, there’s no sign of Marino and my sister. I expect they’ve retreated to their room to work out their differences. I’m not sure how to deal with either one of them, and could use some fresh air. I need a few minutes alone to process what just happened.

“Be back in a few minutes,” I’m saying as Benton finds the corkscrew, the decanter. “I’ll check on Merlin and pick a few things in the greenhouse.”

“How about I come with you?” He slides out a cork with a quiet pop.

“Not necessary. And I need to sort out a few things in my head before I deal with my sister. And Marino.”

“Take your friend, please.” Benton means my gun. “I’ll be watching you on the cameras.” He indicates the video display on the kitchen counter.

Returning to the front of the house, I put on my jacket. Another Christmas carol is playing through the surround sound speakers as I retrieve my Glock from my briefcase on the entryway table.

I tuck the pistol into a pocket, headed out the door to Andy Williams crooning “The Little Drummer Boy.” Turning on my phone’s flashlight, I look around for Merlin, the trees dripping, the earth soggy from rain and melted snow. I call out to Lucy’s cat as I reach the guest cottage.

Unlocking the front door, I call out his name again, turning off the alarm, flipping on the lights. I’m startled when I find him cowering under the kitchen table, looking up at me with frantic eyes.

“Merlin? What is it?” A chill touches the back of my neck.

Pulling out my gun, I rack back the slide, chambering a round as I set about to clear the house, making sure nobody else is here. I don’t see how there could be without the alarm going off and cameras picking up whoever it might be. But I’m taking no chances, Merlin clinging to me every step.

I search Lucy’s living room with its computer arrays, laser printers, cameras and spectrum analyzers connected to various antennas. I look around her small bedroom with its wall of books, several shelves dedicated to Harry Potter and the Boxcar Children.

On the bedside table are what Lucy is reading now. Doug Brunt’s The Mysterious Case of Rudolf Diesel. Luis Elizondo’s Imminent. Liza Mundy’s The Sisterhood. Peeking behind the shower curtain in the bathroom, I check any place someone could hide.

“There’s nobody here, Merlin.” I reach down to pet him, but he’s anxious, not purring. “We’re safe. What’s going on with you?”

He follows me into the kitchen, and I find a can of his cat food. Spooning it into his bowl, I set it down on the floor. He won’t touch it or take his eyes off me.

“How about you come with me, Merlin?”

I tuck my gun back into a pocket.

“We’ll make a quick stop in the greenhouse for things you don’t like to eat. Tomatoes, cucumbers, a sweet onion, some basil. And then we’ll go to the house, and you can lounge in front of the fire.”

He follows me as far as the front door but refuses to go a step further.

“Okay then. You leave me no choice.”

Bending down, I remove his collar, setting it on the table by the door.

“I won’t have you wandering around at night on your own. Eat your dinner, Merlin. And I’ll be back.” I reset the alarm. “Lucy probably won’t be home, and I don’t want you all by yourself over here.”

The greenhouse at the back of the garden is maybe fifty feet from Lucy’s cottage. I follow the walkway, motion sensor lights blinking on. The refurbished Victorian glass structure is dark except for the purple glow of the UV light over my sister’s luxurious marijuana plants.

As I get close, I can make out the shadowy shapes of vegetable beds, the small citrus trees in big terra-cotta pots, the towering wire trellises for tomato vines, snow peas, cucumbers, peppers.

Reaching the door, I notice the slide bolt is open.

Possibly I forgot to lock it several days ago when I was last here.

Turning the handle, I open the door to a wave of loamy warm air. I find the switch from the overhead light at the same instant I realize I’m not alone.

Huffing…

Grunting…

As I’m seeing the carnage.

The vines ripped off trellises.

Bits and pieces of raw vegetables and blood oranges on the concrete floor.

“Who’s in here?” I have my gun ready. “Come out with your hands up! Don’t make me shoot you!”

Then I see him peeking out at me through cannabis leaves like something in a Tarzan movie.

Similar to an orangutan but smaller, he has short dark orange hair, his face reminding me of a chimp, his keen brown eyes humanlike.

“Okay, it’s okay,” I say in a soothing voice as fear shocks through me.

Three monkeys escaped a research lab not far from here. Two were recovered. A third named Peanut is still at large last I heard. He moves away from my sister’s tall pot plants, his hair flaring a fiery red in the overhead glow of ultraviolet.