"Miss Jones," he said stiffly, "precisely what is it you propose?"

Lucy took a deep breath before answering, giving herself a moment to array her thoughts with machine-gun-like precision. "What I propose is to uncover the man who I believe committed these crimes. These are the murders in three different jurisdictions in the eastern part of the state followed by the murder that took place here. I believe that the killer remains free, despite the arrest that has been made. What I will need, to prove this, is access to your patient files and the ability to conduct interviews on the wards. In addition" and it was here that the first hesitation crept into her voice "I will need someone who will work at uncovering this individual from the inside." she glanced over at Francis "Because I think this individual will have anticipated my arrival. And I think his behavior, when he knows I am investigating his presence, is likely to change. I'll need someone able to spot that."

"Exactly what do you mean by anticipate?" Gulp-a-pill asked.

"I think the person who killed the young nurse-trainee did so in such a manner because he knew two things that he could easily blame it on another person, the unfortunate fellow you call Lanky; and that someone very much like me would still come searching for him."

"I beg your pardon…"

"He had to know that if investigators of the other crimes were hunting for him, then they would be drawn here, too."

This revelation created another small silence in the room.

Lucy fixed her eyes on Francis and Peter the Fireman, examining both with a distant, detached gaze. She thought to herself that she could have found far worse candidates for what she had in mind, although she was concerned about the volatility of the one, and the fragility of the other. She also glanced over at the two Moses brothers. Big Black and Little Black were poised in the rear of the room. She guessed that she could enlist them in her plan, as well, although she was unsure if she would be able to control them as efficiently as she could control the two patients.

Doctor Gulptilil shook his head. "I think you ascribe a criminal sophistication to this fellow whom I am still uncertain actually exists that is be yond what we can or should reasonably expect. If you want to get away with a crime, why do you invite someone to look for you? You only raise the potential for being captured and prosecuted."

"Because killing for him is only a small part of the adventure. At least, that's what I suspect."

Lucy did not add to this statement, because she did not want to be asked what she feared were the other elements of what she called "the adventure."

Francis was aware that a moment of some depth had arrived. He could feel strong currents at work in the room, and for an instant had the sensation that he was being pulled into water beyond his touch. His toes stretched forward inadvertently, like a swimmer in the surf, searching in the foam beneath for the bottom.

He knew that Gulp-a-pill no more wanted the prosecutor there than he did the person she believed she was cornering. The hospital was, no matter how mad they all were, still a bureaucracy, and subject to pencil pushers and second-guessers throughout state government. No one, who owes their livelihood to the creaky machinations of the state legislature, wants anything that in any way, shape, or form, rocks the proverbial boat. Francis could see the physician shifting about in his seat, trying to steer his path through what he guessed was a potentially thorny political thicket. If Lucy Jones was correct about who was hiding in the hospital, and Gulptilil refused her access to the hospital records, then Gulp-a-pill opened himself up to all sorts of disasters if the killer chose to kill again and the press got wind of it.

Francis smiled. He was glad that he wasn't in the medical director's position. As Doctor Gulptilil considered the rather difficult canyon he was in, Francis glanced over at Peter the Fireman. He seemed on edge. Electric. As if he'd been plugged into something and the switch had been turned on. When he did speak, it was low, even, with a singular ferocity.

"Doctor Gulptilil," Peter said slowly, "if you do what Miss Jones suggests, and subsequently she is successful at finding this man, then you will get to claim virtually all the credit. If she, and we who help her, fail, then you are unlikely to get any of the blame, for the failure will be of her own making. That will land on her shoulders, and those of the crazy folks who tried to help her."

After assessing this, the doctor finally nodded.

"What you say, Peter" he coughed once or twice as he spoke "is probably true. It perhaps is not completely fair, but it is true, nevertheless."

He looked at the gathering. "This is what I will permit," he said slowly, but with each word gaining confidence. "Miss Jones, certainly you can have access to whatever records you need, as long as complete patient confidentiality is maintained. You may also select from whatever group you isolate as suspicious, people to interview. Either myself, or perhaps Mister Evans, will need to be present during any interviews you conduct. That is only fair. The patients even those who might be suspected of crimes have some rights. And should any object to being questioned by you, then I will not force them. Or, conversely, will recommend that they be accompanied by a legal advocate. Any medical decisions that might arise from any of those conversations must come from the staff. This is fair?"

"Of course, Doctor," Lucy replied, perhaps a little rapidly.

"And," the doctor continued, "I would urge you to move with dispatch. While many of our patients, indeed, the majority, are chronic, with little chance at release without years of attention, a significant portion of the others do become stabilized, medicated, and then do successfully apply to return to home and families. There is no way that I can immediately discern which of these categories your suspect is in, although I might have suspicions."

Again, Lucy nodded affirmatively.

"In other words," the doctor said, "there is no way to determine if he will remain here even for an instant, now that you have arrived. Nor will I stop out-processing patients who are qualified for release, just because you are searching through the hospital. Do you understand? The day-to-day operations of the facility cannot be compromised."

Again, Lucy looked as if she wanted to say something, but kept her mouth closed.

"Now, as far as enlisting the aid of other patients in your" he took a long look at Peter the Fireman, and then at Francis "inquiries… well, I cannot in any official manner condone such a process, even if I were to see its value. But you may do what you wish, informally, of course. I will not stand in your way. Or their way, for that matter. But I cannot allow these patients any special status or extra authority, you understand? Nor can they disrupt their own course of treatment in any manner."

He looked over at the Fireman, and then paused as he stared at Francis. "These two gentlemen," he said, "you understand that they each have a different status here in the hospital. Nor are the circumstances bringing them here, or the parameters of their stays here, the same. This could cause you some trouble, if you hope to enlist them."

Lucy waved a hand in the air, as if some precursor to a comment, but then stopped. When she did respond, it was with a stiff formality that seemed to underscore the agreement. "Of course. I understand completely."

There was another brief silence, and then Lucy Jones continued: "It goes without saying, that my reason for being here, and what I hope to accomplish, and how I might achieve that, should remain confidential."

"Of course. Do you think I would announce that a vicious murderer might remain loose in our hospital?" Gulptilil spoke briskly. "This would undoubtedly create a panic, and, in some cases, likely set back years of treatment. You must do your investigation as privately as possible, although, I fear, there are likely to be rumors and speculation almost instantaneously. Your mere presence on the wards will create that. Asking questions will engender uncertainty. This is inevitable. And certainly, some of the staff shall have to be informed, to a greater or lesser degree. Alas, that, too, is unavoidable, and how it might affect your inquiries, I am unable to imagine. Still, I wish you luck. And I will also make one of the treatment offices in the Amherst Building, close to the crime scene, available for you to conduct whatever interviews you consider necessary. You need to merely page me or Mister Evans from the nurses' station nearby prior to interrogating any subjects. That will be acceptable?"