Page 40 of Identity Unknown
“I was thinking a lot of things.”
Through patchy clouds I can see the red tile roof of Keswick Hall, a splendid former villa, now a resort that Benton and I treat ourselves to on special occasions. I catch a glimpse of the swimming pool and tennis courts before we’re completely socked in again. We’re close to Charlottesville, but I’m unsure what direction we’re going except that it’s away from the mountains.
“If it was me, I’d want to know how someone feels before it’s too late. Wouldn’t you?” Marino isn’t going to stop probing.
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether one is really better off knowing.”
“If you thought this was it, Doc? What would you say that you’ve never said before?” He inches closer to spaces he shouldn’t explore.
“I don’t want to wait until I’m about to die to say what matters.”
“What would you say to me?”
“I might tell you how I feel about people asking invasive questions,” I reply, and I can’t help but smile as he laughs in spite of himself.
CHAPTER 15
Idon’t know, Doc.” Marino sighs, leaning back in the seat, looking up at the Doomsday Bird’s silvery headliner. “I’m bothered by shit that didn’t used to put a dent in me. I know a lot of people who’ve died, and I worry about other people dying, including you and me most of all.”
“When we first started working together, we knew more about death than most of the population,” I reply. “But at some level we believed it wouldn’t touch us personally.”
“That’s exactly how I felt, and wish I still did.”
“It’s called denial. Something you’re quite skilled at.”
“You’re one to talk,” his voice retorts in my headset. “I remember you showing up at scenes in the worst neighborhoods with nothing to protect you but a scalpel.”
“I’m pretty good with sharp instruments.”
“And how many times have I told you not to bring a knife to a gunfight?”
“You’ve always been there when I roll up. I’ve always felt safe when you’re around,” I reply as a rainbow arches across the clearing sky, and I point it out. “A good sign,” I tell him, and I feel it.
“Maybe.”
“How can it be a bad one, Marino?”
“If there’s no pot of gold and instead we crash at the end of it,” he says as the brilliant prism colors dim and are gone, the sun ducking behind streaming clouds.
He catches me staring down at the pouched body, dark red blood showing through plastic. Without warning, emotions well up again and I will them back into their walled-off space. Marino and I don’t talk for a while, and I feel his eyes on me. I sense his pressing questions like a persistent presence in the dark.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, “I’ve been there, Doc.”
“Been where?”
“Every cop I know has rolled up on a scene and realized the victim is their relative, a friend, a husband, a wife. Or maybe somebody they were having a relationship with. And maybe they can’t tell anyone for some reason,” he explains as I realize he has suspicions I’ve not anticipated.
I keep my attention out the window, finding nothing but the brooding sky as I look for the rainbow, hoping it was a message meant for me. I want to believe in symbols like the big cat appearing on the Yellow Brick Road. Metaphor may be the only language Sal has left, and he’d want to reassure me somehow. He’d protest that it’s not him in that ugly bag on the floor at my muddy feet. He’s moved on, leaving behind his spacesuit, as he referred to his strong, lithe body that I once loved.
Images rush back with fresh intensity of climbing steep steps worn smooth by the centuries, feeling the cool stonebeneath my bare feet. We’d wait until the enchanted hour, as he described those early mornings when businesses were closed, most people asleep, the light pollution minimal. Carrying a bottle of wine to the rooftop, we’d sit amid flowers and marble sculptures, a fountain plashing, the primrose and phlox perfuming the warm darkness.
Spreading below was a sea of red barrel tiles, domes, and ruins overrun by feral cats that we often fed while out on long walks. The rooftop’s blood orange and lemon trees waved like wands in the breeze, casting their spell over the ancient city as we’d look through Sal’s telescope. He’d explain the dry lakes, canyons and craters of the moon. Pointing out rocky riverbeds on Mars, he’d tell me it was a beautiful place before losing its atmosphere.
For the first time I saw the bands of Jupiter and the rings of Saturn with my own eyes. He was convinced of planets existing beyond our solar system before it was known.