“She isn’t.”
“She wants us to ID him, and that’s it—no autopsy. And wash him. She’s pretty clear on that, she wants him washed. A fresh suit, too.”
“Anything else?”
“A new casket. And so, I said: Lady, sure. Anything. You bring us the new suit and a new casket, and we’ll wash him up and take care of him.”
“Grassley—”
“Now I know. Okay? Dr. Levy took me aside—and I’m not shitting you, she took me by my ear, and she pulled me around a corner—and then she lost her shit.”
“She’s not a funeral director.”
“She said that,” Grassley said. “And some other stuff.”
“Did you go back to Mrs. Hanley and walk it back?”
“I’d already said it. How could we walk it back?” Grassley said. “Even Dr. Levy said we couldn’t do that.”
“So now she’s on the hook to wash him and dress him up.”
“And ID him first, which she would’ve done anyway,” Grassley said. “We gave Mrs. Hanley an oral swab. The lab can ID him with a DNA match to her.”
“Did she say how she found out?”
“Found out what?”
“How she heard about the girl,” Cain said. “We need to know who told her.”
“It was a reporter. Lady called from the paper, wanted a comment.”
“Shit.”
“What I thought.”
“Dr. Levy’s going to finish today?”
“No way—they’ll keep going a bit, but she’s putting them in the icebox at five o’clock.”
“Fine,” Cain said.
He guessed Rachel Levy would’ve pushed through, however long it took, if Grassley hadn’t pissed her off by volunteering her as an undertaker.
“Did you track down Inspector Chun?” Cain asked.
“She can come. She says she’s got time.”
“Five thirty,” Cain said. “At the Western.”
“We’ll be there.”
Cain hung up, then looked at the clock on the dashboard. There was time before he had to meet Alexa Castelli. He drove to the Deli Eliseevski, on Geary, and picked out a half-dozen things he knew Lucy would eat. He bought a bottle of sparkling mineral water for her, a can of Baltika for himself. She liked lemon in her water, but there were lemon trees in her backyard. As long as it was dark, she’d even go out herself to pick them.
The house was quiet when he stepped inside, balancing the deli packages and putting his keys away.
“Lucy?”
No answer. He went through the living room and the dining room. The kitchen, to the left, was empty. A pair of French doors led to the music room, and he could see through the glass panes that she wasn’t there. The piano’s lid was closed. The windows overlooking the garden were open a crack, the wind coming in and putting raindrops on the sill. He slid them shut.
He went to the kitchen and put his packages away, and then he went upstairs.
He found her in the walk-in closet, leaning against the back wall, half hidden by the sleeves of the coats hanging above her. The light was off when he opened the door, and he didn’t see her at all until he turned the switch.
After a moment, she looked up at him.
“You’re early.”
“It’s just for a minute,” he said. “I have to go out again.”
“Okay.”
He took off his shoes and came into the closet. It smelled of leather and wool and Lucy’s shampoo. He moved a shoebox out of the way and sat beside her. She took his hand in hers and laid it above her navel.
“I come in here sometimes,” she said. “It’s just—I like to think in here.”
“Okay.”
“I’m getting better, Gavin.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to worry about us.”
“I don’t.”
“You do,” she said. “I know you do. But you don’t have to, is what I’m saying.”
“Okay.”
“How long do you have, before you need to go?”
“Not long,” he said. “I have to meet the mayor’s daughter. To interview her. Then meet Grassley and Inspector Chun.”
“When will you be back?”
“After dark. But not too late. Maybe nine?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Right in here?”
“I don’t know.”
“I brought you blinties. And that salmon you like.”
She made a sound and he looked over, not sure if she was laughing until he saw her face.
“Blinis,” she said. “Not blinties.”
“Okay.”
“That was cute.”
“Are you really going to sit in here?”
“If I want to,” she said. “It’s up to me, isn’t it?”
He had no answer to that. For months, he’d been thinking that he ought to leave. Not because he didn’t love her, but because he didn’t know how to help her. And he was sure that every time she woke up next to him, he made it a little harder for her. She wouldn’t forget how they’d met, what he represented. It wasn’t fair to her that he’d wanted her, that he’d pursued her.