I smiled, catching myself using that word. Home. Yes, I thought, this was home, even without my famous grandfather or his chair. I didn’t want to go back to my house, but it wasn’t just that. Frank’s house was more than my refuge for the moment.
I looked back over to Cassie, to see her returning my smile.
FRANK CAME BACK in with an armload of groceries. “Is it safe for me to be back in my own home?”
“Our home,” I said.
“Good work, Cassie,” he said. He began unloading the sacks, pulling out a bottle of red wine.
“In fact,” I said, “I was just about to tell Cassie how nice it will be to know somebody besides you when we join the family for Thanksgiving dinner.”
He stopped what he was doing and looked up at me, clearly amazed. He turned to his sister. “Cassie, I may have to have you over more often.”
“What’s with you, Frank?” she asked.
He didn’t reply. He was looking back at me, and I liked being looked at that way.
34
FRANK WAS GETTING READY for work the next morning when the doorbell rang, so I answered it, and was surprised to see the coroner standing there.
“Good morning, Miss Kelly,” he said, seeming uncomfortable.
“Hello, Dr. Hernandez,” I said, gesturing for him to come inside. “Frank must have forgotten to cancel his order. He changed his mind about killing me yesterday.”
He smiled. Frank had made his way down the hall by then, and also seemed surprised to see Dr. Hernandez. “Carlos? What’s up?”
“Good morning, Frank. Sorry to bother you at home. I, uh, wanted to talk to you away from the office.”
Frank nodded. “Come on into the kitchen, I’ll get you a cup of coffee. Okay if Irene hears this?”
He hesitated. “Only if it doesn’t end up in the newspaper.”
My curiosity was fairly raging. “I’m on medical leave,” I said. “I know it’s hard to see why.”
“You look like you could still use a telephone.”
“You’re right. But I won’t.”
That seemed good enough for him, and he followed us into the kitchen. When we were all settled around the table, he said, “I don’t suppose you or Pete were in contact with anyone from the county lab over the weekend, were you, Frank?”
“No. Pete should be by in a few minutes, but I’m fairly certain he wasn’t, either. Why do you ask?”
“I dropped by on Sunday to review our caseload and to prepare work schedules for next week. I also wanted to do a little more work on the Sammy Garden case. I discovered that between the time I left Friday afternoon and yesterday morning, someone took a look through my computer files.”
“And you thought it was me?” Frank asked, taken aback.
“No,” Carlos said quickly. “I never thought it was you or Pete. That’s why I came by. If you weren’t the ones who asked for the information, I wanted you to be aware of what had happened. I know you have a…” He glanced over at me. “You have a personal interest in the files that were read.”
Frank and I exchanged a look. “Which files?” I asked, the knot in my stomach already predicting the answer.
“Those having to do with the Fremont murder and the Garden case.”
The knot tightened.
“How could you tell?” Frank asked.
“The computer notes the last date and time anyone opens a case file. The display doesn’t show up unless you ask for it, but I check it fairly often, as a way of managing our work — helps me to keep track of which cases aren’t moving.”
“Maybe one of your assistants was in on the weekend,” Frank suggested.
Carlos was silent for a moment, then said, “Maybe. But other than the man who was on duty, no one is admitting it, and he normally wouldn’t be in the part of the building where the computers are. These files are generally accessible on a “read only” basis from either my offices or the D.A.’s office, but it’s too early for any involvement from the D.A. As far as I can tell, the files weren’t accessed randomly, the way a hacker might enter them, and no other files were opened. So who felt they needed to wait until the weekend to take a look? It disturbs me.”
“Anyone you would suspect of doing this?”
“I’d rather not speculate, Frank, at least not yet. I just wanted to ask you and Pete to be careful about who you talk to. I have no idea what was being looked for; the files don’t seem to have been disturbed, just read.”
“You’ve got backups?”
“Yes, on disks which are kept in a completely separate area. I checked them. No one looked at the backups.” He paused, glancing at me, then back to Frank. “I’ve never mentioned my conversations with you in my notes. I know you aren’t supposed to be on either case, but no one has forbidden me to discuss them with you. I know you have reasons to be interested in both of them, and I haven’t minded taking care of a friend.”
“I’ve appreciated it,” Frank said.
Carlos waved it off. “It’s nothing. By the way, I think I’ve finally identified the hairs.”
