He’d get through the day, somehow.

A pretty cool fellow.

Right?

49

Back in his office, short of breath from running, the sounds of the day- pain cries, weeping, sighs of resignation, gushes of gratitude- buried deeply in some dark, little, crumb-littered vest pocket of his brain.

He went straight for the book- there it was, lying atop the Curiosity file.

The Blood Runs Cold. Mr. Colin Pugh exploiting very, very bad behavior.

A book sold by Renfrew. Of course, had to be, that made sense, the world remained logical…

Flipping feverishly to the final chapter, he turned pages so quickly that the acid-damaged paper flaked, and dust flew off in all directions.

There it was:

Gerd Degraav enters Brazil using a Syrian passport.

Remarried, with a child.

Another son.

Here?

Arthur leading him… that day in the cafeteria. The other man, the dark-haired surgeon with the mustache who’d been sitting with Dirgrove and Mandel as Arthur stared.

The man Jeremy had seen arguing with Dirgrove. The two of them, evenly matched, same height, same build. Teeth bared like fighting dogs…

A second son, born in Syria. Part-Mideastern, part-German- the coloring fit.

It was the dark man, not Dirgrove, whom Arthur had focused on.

Had to be, had to be, let me be right… Jeremy yanked open the bottom desk drawer, grabbed the Attending Staff face book, and began with the D’s, because, like Dirgrove, this one had probably changed his name and hopefully, like his half brother, he’d stayed alphabetically close.

He hadn’t.

Jeremy turned back to the A’s, scanned every photo in the book. His own image stared back at him blankly- a picture taken shortly after Jocelyn. Lord, I look shell-shocked.

The dark, mustachioed doctor was nowhere to be found.

A white-coat, a surgeon, but not on staff at City Central?

Mandel would know. Jeremy phoned the cardiologist’s office, was informed Dr. Mandel was on vacation.

“Where?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” said the secretary.

“This is Dr. Carrier.”

“Is it a patient emergency?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Rhinegold’s taking emergency call for Dr. Mandel.”

“I need to speak with Dr. Mandel, personally.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Please.”

“What I was about to say, Doctor, was that even if I wanted to reach Dr. Mandel, I couldn’t. He’s backpacking with his family out in Colorado and doesn’t have a phone. He made a big point of that. No phone, for three days. He really deserves to get away.”

“What hotel is he staying at?”

“Doctor,” she said, “maybe I didn’t make myself clear. He’s camping. Out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Is there a physician in your department, forty or so, dark complexion, dark mustache?”

“No,” she said. “Are you all right, Dr. Carrier?”

Not knowing where else to go, he phoned Dirgrove’s office.

Hey, Ted, long time, no see. By the way, what’s the name of your homicidal sib? And what did he do to irritate you the other day?

Had the argument between Dirgrove and his brother been about something of substance? Did Dirgrove suspect?

The surgeon’s phone rang five times before Jeremy was connected to voice mail.

Dr. Theodore Dirgrove is currently unavailable. If this is a patient emergency, please press…

Gone for the day. Another meet-up with Dr. Gwynn Hauser?

Hauser. She and Dirgrove had spent six hours together at the motel. That said their relationship was more than kinky role-playing.

Did it involve pillow talk?

He looked up Hauser’s extension, and when she picked up the phone, he hung up and put on his white coat.

She shared an office suite with three other internists, two floors below Dirgrove’s penthouse spread. Jeremy crossed an empty reception area, knocked on the door with her name on it, and opened it as she said, “Come in.”

She was at her desk, writing, and looked up. Smiling, she removed her glasses and put down her pen. “My parking lot friend. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Lashes batted. Her blond bob vibrated as she tilted her face toward Jeremy.

He’d come in smiling, wanting to put her at ease, but this much ease rattled him. She wheeled back in her desk chair, offered him a full view of long legs crossing. She wore a red wool dress and flesh-tone stockings. Great legs. Up close, she looked her age, but it didn’t matter. This one poured out hormones.

Jeremy closed the door. “You were expecting me?”

She said, “Is it my imagination, or have you been checking me out? First, that time in the lot, and then various places around the hospital.” She winked. “Hey, I’m an observant gal. I’ve noticed you noticing me. I even looked you up. Jeremy Carrier, from the shrink department.”

Jeremy smiled.

She said, “Chemistry. When it’s there, it’s there.”

“True,” he said, sitting down opposite her desk.

“So. Jeremy. What service can I provide Psychiatry?”

“I need information.”

Her face slackened. Confused.

“About Ted’s brother.”

“Ted?” Back went the glasses. Her legs uncrossed, and she sat stiffly.

“Ted Dirgrove.”

“The surgeon?”

“No need to be coy, Gwynn.”

She pointed to the door. “I think you’d better leave. Now.”

“I like the coat,” said Jeremy. “The big, white fuzzy one. Just the right combination of chic and cheap. What is it, polyester? Like the black wig?”

The color drained from Gwynn Hauser’s face. “Fuck you- get the fuck out of here.”

Jeremy crossed his legs. “Tell you what, I’ll send the pictures simultaneously. One set to your husband, the other to Patty Dirgrove.”

“You’re insane. What pictures?”

“The Hideaway Motel, Room 16. Yesterday, eight-thirty to three-forty. Long date. Must’ve been fun.”

Gwynn Hauser’s mouth dropped open. “You’re really insane.”

“Maybe,” said Jeremy. “However, the state of my mental health needn’t affect the quality of your life.”

“What’s that, a threat? You think you can march in here and threaten me and bully me? Are you out of your-” She reached for her phone but didn’t dial.

“All I want is the information.”

“About- why?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“What has he done?”

“You’re assuming he’s done something,” said Jeremy. “You’re not surprised that he’d do something.”

Hauser replaced the phone in its cradle. The tendons of her hands were bowstring tight. Jeremy watched as she pushed sheets of paper into a six-inch pile that she interposed between herself and Jeremy.

Pathetic barrier. She knew it. Her eyes were bright with confusion and fear.

“I don’t know enough to be surprised. All I know is what Ted tells me.”

She tried a little-girl pout. Smiled. When Jeremy remained stoic, she snarled, “Asshole. You don’t have any pictures, how could you have pictures?”

“Are you willing to bet on that?” said Jeremy. Sounding cool- the cool fellow surfacing, despite all the noise in his head.

“What do you want?”

“Tell me about him.”

“What about him?”

“For starters, his name.”

“You don’t even know his- are you out of your… his name is Graves. Augusto Graves, he’s part South American. Augie. He’s not Ted’s full brother. He’s a half brother. They’re not close. They grew up separately. Ted wants nothing to do with him, they had a big fight years ago, and Ted thought he was free of him, but then Augie showed up.”

“He works here?”

“He’s here temporarily. One-year research grant in Ob-Gyn. Some corporate grant. Ted’s convinced he obtained it just to make trouble for him.”

A temporary appointment would account for no photo in the face book.