"A loup-garou is a werewolf," I told him.

"Huh?"

"As in a wolf man."

"Shit, I fucking hate those things."

"I wasn't aware you'd ever met one."

"You remember seeing 1.on Chaney with all that fur growing on his face when the moon came out? Scared the hell out of me. Rocky used to watch Shock Theater, remember that?"

Rocky was Marino's only child, a son I'd never met. I placed the dough in a bowl and covered it with a warm, wet cloth.

"Do you ever hear from him?" I cautiously ' asked. "What about at Christmas? Will you see him then?"

Marino nervously tapped an ash.

"Do you even know where he lives?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Oh, hell, yeah."

"You act as if you don't like him at all," I said.

"Maybe I don't."

I scanned the wine rack for a nice bottle of red. Marino sucked smoke and exhaled loudly. He had nothing more to say about Rocky than he ever had.

"One of these days you're going to talk to me about him," I said as I poured crushed tomatoes in a pot.

"You know as much about him as you need to," he said.

"You love him, Marino."

"I'm telling you, I don't love him. I wish he'd never been born. I wish I'd never met him."

He stared out the window at my backyard fading into night. This moment I didn't seem to know Marino at all. He was a stranger in my kitchen, this man in uniform;who had a son I'd never met and knew nothing about. Marino wouldn't look me in the eye or thank me when I set a cup of coffee on his place mat.

"How about,peanuts or something?" I asked.

"Naw," he said. "I been thinking about going on a diet."

"Thinking about it won't help much. It's been proven in studies."

"You gonna wear garlic around your neck or something when you post our dead werewolf? You know, you get bit by one, you turn into one. Sort of: like AIDS."

"It's nothing like AIDS, and I wish you'd get off this AIDS thing."

"You think he wrote that on the box himself?"

"We can't assume that box and what was written on it are connected with him, Marino."

"Have a nice trip, werewolf. Yeah, you find that written on camera boxes all the time. Especially when they're near dead bodies."

"Let's get back to Bray and your new fashion statement," I said. "Start from the beginning. What did you do to make her such a fan?"

"It started about two weeks after she got here. Remember that autoerotic hanging?" “Yes”.

"She shows up and just walks right into the middle of everything and starts telling people what to do, like she's the detective. She starts looking through the porno magazines the guy was having fun with when he strung himself up in his leather mask. She starts asking his wife questions."

"Whoa," I said.

"So I tell her to leave, that she's in the way and screwing up everything, and the next day she calls me into her office. I figure she's going to be tear-ass about what happened, but she doesn't say a word. Instead, she asks what I think of the detective division."

He took a gulp of coffee and stirred in two more teaspoons of sugar.

"Thing is, I could tell that really wasn't what she was interested in;" he went on. "I knew she wanted something. She wasn't in charge of investigations, so why the hell was she asking me about the detective division?"

I poured myself a glass of wine.

"Then what did she want?" I asked.

"She wanted to talk about you. She started asking me a thousand questions about you, said she knew we had been `partners in crime,' as she put it, for a long time."

I checked the dough, then the sauce.

"She was asking me background stuff. What the cops thought of you."

"And what did you say?"

"I told her you was a doctor-lawyer-Indian chief with an IQ bigger than my paycheck, that the cops was all in love with you, including the women. And let's see, what else?"

"That was probably quite enough."

"She asked about Benton and what happened to him and how much it had affected your work."

Anger heated me up.

"She starting quizzing me about Lucy. About why she left the FBI and if the way she swings is the reason."

"This woman's fast sealing her fate with me," I warned.

"I told her Lucy left the Bureau because NASA asked her to become an astronaut;" Marino kept going. "But when she got into the space program, she decided she liked flying helicopters better and signed on as a pilot for ATE Bray wanted me to tell her next time Lucy was in town, to arrange for- the two of them to meet because Bray might want to recruit her. I said that was sort of like asking Billie Jean King to be a ball girl. End of story? I didn't tell Bray shit except I ain't your social secretary. One week later, my ass was back in uniform."

I reached for my pack and felt like a junkie. We shared an ashtray, smoking in my house, silent and frustrated. I was trying not to feel hateful.

"I think she's jealous as hell of you, plain and simple, Doe," Marino finally said. "She's the big shot moving here from D.C., and all she hears about is the great Dr. Scarpetta. And I think she got a cheap thrill out of busting up the two of us. Gave the bitch a little power rush."

He smashed the cigarette butt in the ashtray and ground it out.

"This is the first time you and me haven't worked together since you moved here;' he said as the doorbell rang for a second time this night.

"Who the hell's that?" he said. "You invite someone else and not tell me?"

I got up and looked into the video screen of the Aiphone on the kitchen wall. I stared, incredulous, at-the images picked up by the front-door camera.

"I'm dreaming," I said.

Lucy and Jo seemed apparitions, physical presences that could not be flesh and blood. Both of them had been riding the streets of Miami barely eight hours ago. Now they were in my arms.

"I don't know what to say," I said at least five times as they dropped duffel bags on the floor.

"What the hell's going on?" Marino boomed, intercepting us in the great room. "What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded of Lucy, as if she had done something wrong.

He had never been able to show affection in a normal way. The gruffer and more sarcastic he got, the happier he was to see my niece.

"'They fire your ass down there already?" he asked.

"What's this, trick or treat?" Lucy said just as loudly, tugging a sleeve of his uniform shirt. "You trying to make us finally believe you're a real cop?"

"Marino," I said as we went into the kitchen, "I don't think you've met Jo Sanders."

"Nope," he said.

"You've heard me talk about her."

He gave Jo a blank look. She was an. athletically built strawberry blonde with dark blue eyes, and I could tell he thought she was pretty.

"He knows exactly who you are," I said to Jo. "He's not being rude. He's just being him."

"You work?" Marino asked her, fishing his smoldering cigarette out of the ashtray and drawing one last puff.

"Only when I have no choice," Jo- answered.

"Doing what?"

"A little rappelling out of Black Hawks. Drug busts. Nothing special."

"Don't tell me you and Lucy are in the same field division down there in South America."

"She's DEA," Lucy told him.

"No shit?" Marino said to Jo. "You seem kind of puny for DEA: "

"They're into quotas," Jo said.

He opened the refrigerator and shoved things around until he found a Red Stripe beer. He twisted off the cap and started chugging.

"Drinks are on the house," he called out.

"Marino," I said. "What are you doing? You're on duty."

"Not anymore. Here, let me show you."

He set the bottle down hard on the table and dialed a number.

"Mann, what'cha know," he said into the phone. "Yeah, yeah. Listen, I ain't joking. I'm feeling like shit. You think you could cover for me tonight? I'll owe ya:'