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Dr. Weston left a message with Grace when I was in session, that he had completed his examination of Lara, and that I should stop by his office when I was free. So midday, after I had seen my last appointment for the day, I jumped in my Porsche and motored to his office. It had rained all morning. As the sun began to evaporate the water off the pavement it left a sweet, earthy smell in the air. It was a good smell, a refreshing scent, a smell of renewal. I considered it a metaphor for what I was to learn from the pathologist.
He had rolled up his shirt sleeves and was applying an ointment on his arms when I entered his office, startling him. He flushed with embarrassment. “If I do this several times a day, it seems to help.”
“What are you using?” I asked.
He showed me the tube. “It
