CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Margie Ryan started scratching herself almost right away. She liked to think of herself as a tough-ass cop, and in most respects she certainly was. She'd seen-and effectively dealt with-every kind of bloodshed and carnage imaginable. She had been shot at, stabbed, and nearly drowned. One time when she was working undercover, she'd nearly been gang-raped by three men who looked as if they belonged at the Abominable Snowman's family reunion. She never had a single nightmare about any of this. Not once. But put her in a room where somebody was sneezing… Margie had always wondered where her hypochondria came from. Her parents were sane and sensible Irishers who felt ill only when they truly were ill. Nor had this psychological malady possessed any of her five brothers and sisters. Indeed, they used to take great delight in sneezing and coughing in little Margie's face just so they could watch her go crazy with hypochondrical symptoms.
