Body Farm by Patricia Daniels Cornwell

Author:Patricia Daniels Cornwell [Cornwell, Patricia Daniels]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Crime, Mystery & Detective, Pathology, Kay Scarpetta, Forensics, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9780751530476
Publisher: Little Brown P/B
Published: 1994-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Wesley and I went on to the Red Sage at half past four, which was early for drinks. But neither of us felt very good.

It was hard for me to meet his eyes now that we were alone again, and I wanted him to bring up what had happened between us the other night. I did not want to believe I was the only one who thought it mattered.

“They have microbrewery beer on tap,” Wesley said as I studied the menu. “It’s quite good, if you’re a beer drinker.”

“Not unless I’ve worked out for two hours in the middle of summer and am very thirsty and craving pizza,” I said, a little stung that he didn’t seem to know this detail about me. “In fact, I really don’t like beer and never have. I only drink it when there’s absolutely nothing else, and even then I can’t say it tastes good.”

“Well, there’s no point in getting angry about it.”

“I’m certainly not angry.”

“You sound angry. And you won’t look at me.”

“I’m fine.”

“I study people for a living and I’m telling you that you’re not fine.”

“You study psychopaths for a living,” I said. “You don’t study female chief medical examiners who reside on the right side of the law and simply want to relax after an intense, long day of thinking about murdered children.”

“It’s very hard to get into this restaurant.”

“I can see why. Thank you for going to a lot of trouble.”

“I had to use my influence.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“We’ll have wine with dinner. I’m surprised they have Opus One. Maybe that will make you feel better.”

“It’s overpriced and styled after a Bordeaux, which is a little heavy for sipping, and I wasn’t aware we were dining here. I’ve got a plane to catch in less than two hours. I think I’ll just have a glass of Cabernet.”

“Whatever you’d like.”

I did not know what I liked or wanted at the moment.

“I’m heading back to Asheville tomorrow,” Wesley went on. “If you want to stay over tonight, we could go together.”

“Why are you going back there?”

“Our assistance was requested before Ferguson ended up dead and Mote had a heart attack. Trust me, the Black Mountain Police are sincere in their appreciation and panic. I’ve made it clear to them that we will do what we can to help. If it turns out that I need to bring in other agents, I will.”

Wesley had a habit of always getting the waiter’s name and addressing him by it throughout the meal. Our waiter’s name was Stan, and it was Stan this and Stan that as Wesley and he discussed wines and specials. It was really the only dopey thing Wesley did, his sole quirky mannerism, and as I witnessed it this evening it irritated the hell out of me.

“You know, it doesn’t make the waiter feel he has a relationship with you, Benton. In fact, it seems just a little patronizing, like the sort of thing a radio personality would do.”

“What does?” He was without a clue.

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