“Nope.”

“You’re sure?”

I thought about the name some more. “Yes, I’m sure. Don’t know him.”

Sam pondered something before he said, “He’s one of the suspects that the Denver PD liked for the threats and harassment of Brenda after the recycling story.”

“Ahh.”

He sighed. “Don’t be arrogant, Alan. You’re still ignorant. You don’t have a clue why I brought you here, do you?”

I knew I couldn’t rely on his improved demeanor to have a half-life of more than five minutes. “No, Sam, I don’t.”

“Then shut up and let me educate you.”

“Excuse me.” I tried to keep the sarcasm from my voice. I wasn’t sure how much more of his attitude I was going to put up with. He was already receiving a lot of slack from me for his family crisis, but the account he was rapidly using up wasn’t infinite.

“Turns out that dear Dr. Gusman is the twin brother of that woman who had the heart attack while she watched her husband hanging himself from the rafters in their garage. Remember that story? Mayor of what-Northglenn?-I don’t know, tries to kill himself after Brenda links him to the recycling scandal, his wife has a coronary when she finds him hanging from the rafters? He lives, she dies.”

“I remember the story. Ugly. I suppose it certainly gives Dr. Gusman a gold-plated reason to be angry at Brenda.”

“Yes, does that. Establishes motive. That’s always important to me. Motive.”

“You talked to him yet? Gusman?”

“No. That wouldn’t be kosher. My role’s a little unofficial on this.”

“Are the Denver cops sure that he was the person who was threatening Brenda?”

“He looked good when they interviewed him. But they have no plans to charge him. So they’re not that sure. The guy was careful. And the threats and the incidents have ended. It’s back-burner time as far as they’re concerned.”

“What do you think?”

Sam nodded at the house and, as though Dr. Gusman was standing in the front yard, said, “I like him.”

“Any reason in particular?”

“I checked out his background. Sometimes backgrounds tell you things. Knowing people’s histories, you know. Kind of like your work, in a way. Anyway, know what kind of doc he is?”

“Oh, shit, Sam. He’s not one of Chaney’s doctors, is he?”

“Not to worry. He was a general practitioner, but he doesn’t practice right now. He was disciplined by the state medical board after the Denver Post ran a series of articles accusing him of sexual improprieties with three female patients. Two female members of his own office staff even gave affidavits supporting parts of the women’s accusations.”

Now I recalled the news reports. “I remember something. This was a while ago, right?”

“June of ’87. He blamed the whole thing on the media. Said the charges were groundless, that the women made it all up. Disgruntled employees. You know how the denials go, you could probably write the lyrics.”

“Did he lose his license?”

“Please. State medical board taking away a license? Of course not, had his wrist slapped. He gave up his practice, though, decided to do other things.”

“So Dr. Gusman has a predisposition to distrust media people in general, and he has a particular reason to dislike Brenda?”

“‘Dislike’?”

“How about ‘hate’?”

“Better word. You could say hate.”

“What does he do now?”

Sam hesitated until I looked over at him. He had a piercing, amused look on his face that reminded me of how my dog gets when she’s sure she’s about to corral a squirrel. The difference is that Emily never gets her squirrel, Sam rarely misses his.

“Dr. Terence Gusman’s new line of work is in administration…what he does is he chairs the medical evaluation review board at MedExcel.”

I almost chuckled at the utter simplicity of the news. “This is the french fry you’ve been looking for? You found it, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “It’s one of them. But all along, I’ve been working under the assumption that this meal has at least two truant french fries.”

“Go on.”

“In case you’re having difficulty counting, I have two nieces in trouble, Alan. Finding Dr. Gusman may help me influence Chaney’s situation. It’s not going to do shit for Merritt’s. I still feel compelled to goose that one as far as I can.”

“What are you going to do about Gusman?”

“I just put the pieces together a couple of hours ago and I’ve been thinking about how to proceed. Time is of the essence, right? And I think things might go better for Chaney if I give MedExcel a chance to do the right thing. For the time being, leave me, and law enforcement in general, out of it, you know. So I think I’m going to need a doctor to act as a go-between with MedExcel. Perhaps encourage them to see that they have a potential public relations crisis brewing and that it may be in their best interest to make a small humanitarian gesture, if you know what I mean.”

“Sam, I’d love to help, but I can’t. Not while I’m treating Chaney’s sister.”

He seemed to find my refusal amusing. “Not you, asshole. I’m looking for a real doctor. I was thinking one of Chaney’s doctors might help. I was going to approach them tonight when things calmed down at the hospital.”

I didn’t think it was wise to get them mixed up in this during an acute medical crisis. I suggested an alternative. “What about Adrienne? You know, my urologist friend? She treated Merritt. She knows the family, the whole situation. I bet she’d love to do it. And Adrienne’s as Machiavellian as they come.”

“She’s dating Maitlin, isn’t she?”

I wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, and I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that question. “Kind of,” I said.

Sam was smiling. “You know, it’s not a bad idea. She’s relentless. She’s smart. I’d like to have a ticket to that meeting. Maybe she’d record it for me, you think?”

I stared across the street at Dr. Gusman’s front door and wondered whose idea it had been to paint it the color of cantaloupe flesh. “Sam, it’s possible that Robilio had nothing to do with any of this, isn’t it?”

“You mean that he was an innocent bystander?”

“I guess.”

“That health insurance policy he’s selling to the masses is like a car with a busted airbag. Works fine except in the most dire of emergencies. I wouldn’t exactly call him innocent.”

“But I mean, in terms of the refusal to grant the procedure for Chaney? You’re thinking that Gusman engineered that, not Robilio?”

“Looks that way. But Robilio could’ve overruled the medical board. I checked. He’s a physician, too. And he ran the company like an ayatollah. He could’ve approved it if he wanted to.”

“This changes things. Makes me wonder about other things I haven’t given much thought to.”

“Yeah? Such as?”

I said, “That day, before the hockey game, at his house. How confused everybody was. You know, Scott Truscott said the scene was a puzzle, so did Mitchell Crest. You’ve been perplexed, too. And the note we found on the computer? I haven’t thought about it much since we found the bloody clothes in Merritt’s room.”

“I think I hear the rustling sounds of someone digging around for that other french fry.”

“Is there any way you can get me a copy of Dead Ed’s suicide note? And a copy of the post?”

He laughed deeply. “Now you’re thinking. You know, I was wondering when you were going to actually begin to act intelligent about all this. Maybe the time has come. I hope so.”

“Well, when can I see the note? And the autopsy?”

“The autopsy report won’t be done for a few weeks. But I have a copy of Malloy’s notes from his meeting with the coroner. I think they’re in the backseat somewhere. While I’m looking for them, why don’t you see if you can track down your conspiratorial little urologist friend for me. Go ahead, use my phone.”