Blow Fly

67

THE TWO OF THEM PAUSE by the soundproof door, monitors glowing, images from closed-circuit cameras flashing from one to the next, and small, bright lights winking white, green and red, as if Lucy and Berger are in the cockpit of a spacecraft.

"I knew he'd be sentenced to death in Texas, and he was. May seventh," Berger mutters. "But no death penalty for him here, never in New York."

She stuffs her legal pad inside her briefcase and snaps it shut. "One of these days the DA might allow the needle, but probably not during my tenure. But I suppose the question now, Lucy, is do we want Chandonne to die? And more to the point, do we want whoever s in his cell in Polunsky to be executed when we can't be certain who that person is, now that we've gotten these communications from the infamous Loup-Garou?"

Berger says we, although she has gotten no communication from Jean-Baptiste Chandonne. As far as Lucy knows, only she, Marino and Scarpetta have: letters, and now a phone call that seems to have been made from the Upper East Side of Manhattan, unless technology has failed or human programmers have.

"No judge is going to grant me a court order to get his DNA," Berger says again in her usual, calm, self-assured tone. "Not without probable cause for a search warrant. I get it, and I'll try to extradite him to New York and put him on trial for the murder of Susan Pless. Based on the DNA from his saliva, we'll get a conviction even if we know that the seminal fluid in her vagina wasn't his, was in fact Jay Talley's, his twin brother's. Chandonne's attorney, Rocco Caggiano, is going to throw in every dirty trick he can think of if we bring this case back to life-so to speak."

Lucy avoids the subject of Rocco Caggiano. Her expression registers nothing. Waves of nausea roll through her again. She wills them to pass. I will not get sick, she silently orders herself.

"I certainly would introduce Talley's seminal fluid into evidence, and there the case gets dicey. The defense will argue that Jay Talley, now a fugitive, raped and murdered Susan, and all I can prove without a doubt is that Chandonne sank his teeth into her. In summary," she is in courtroom mode, "hopefully, the donor of the seminal fluid will be of no consequence to jurors, who will be horrified that saliva found in bite marks virtually all over Susans upper body will prove that Chandonne tortured her. But I can't prove he murdered her or that she was even alive when he started biting her."

"Shit," Lucy says.

"Maybe he gets convicted. Maybe the jurors believe she suffered extreme physical pain, that the murder was vicious and wanton. It's possible he would get the death penalty, but it's never carried out in New York. So, if convicted, he'd probably get life without possibility of parole, and then we have to live with him until he dies in prison."

Lucy places her hand on the doorknob and leans against thick acoustic foam rubber padding. "I've always wanted him dead."

"And I was glad he ended up in Texas," Berger replies. "But I also want his DNA so we know for a fact that he isn't roaming the streets somewhere, his eyes on his next victim…"

"Which could be one of us," Lucy says.

"Let me make some calls. The first step is for me to tell a judge I intend to reopen Susan Pless's murder and want a court order for Chandonne's DNA. Then I'll contact the governor of Texas. Without his sanction, Chandonne's not going anywhere. I know enough about Governor Corley to expect serious obstinance on his part, but at least I think he'll listen to me. It does his state proud to free the Earth of murderers. I'll have to make a deal with him."

"Nothing like justice to help them out at election time," Lucy says cynically as she opens the door.