"He was like a father to me," Van Slyke said. He puffed his cigar contentedly. "More than my own father."

"No kidding," Calhoun said.

"If it hadn't been for Hodges, I never would have gone to college," Van Slyke said. "He'd given me a job to work around his house. I used to sleep over a lot and we'd talk. I had a lot of trouble with my own father."

"How so?" Calhoun asked. He was eager to keep Van Slyke talking.

"My father was a mean son-of-a-bitch," Van Slyke said. Then he coughed. "The bastard used to beat the hell out of me."

"How come?" Calhoun asked.

"He got drunk most every night," Van Slyke said. "He used to beat me and my mother couldn't do anything about it. In fact, she got beat herself."

"Did you and your mother talk?" Calhoun asked. "Kinda team up against your father?"

"Hell, no," Van Slyke said. "She always defended him, saying he didn't mean it after he'd kicked the crap out of me. Hell, she even tried to convince me that he loved me and that was why he was hitting me."

"Doesn't make sense," Calhoun said.

"Sure as hell doesn't," Van Slyke said acidly. "What the hell are you asking all these questions for, anyway?"

"I'm interested in Hodges' death," Calhoun said.

"After all this time?" Van Slyke asked.

"Why not?" Calhoun said. "Wouldn't you like to find out who killed him?"

"What would I do if I found out?" Van Slyke said. "Kill the bastard?" Van Slyke laughed until he began coughing again.

"You don't smoke much, do you?" Calhoun asked.

Van Slyke shook his head after he'd finally controlled his coughing. His face had become red. He headed over to a nearby sink to take a drink of water. When he came back, his mood had changed.

"I think I've had enough of this chat," he said with derision. "I've got a hell of a lot of work to do. I shouldn't even be monkeying around with these beds."

"I'll leave then," Calhoun said as he slipped off the stool. "It's a rule I have: I never stay around where I'm not wanted. But would you mind if I returned some other time?"

"I'll think about it," Van Slyke said.

After leaving engineering Calhoun made his way around to the front of the hospital and walked over to the Imaging Center. He handed one of his cards to the receptionist and asked to speak with Dr. Cantor.

"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist asked.

"No," Calhoun said. "But listen, tell him that I'm here to talk about Dr. Hodges."

"Dr. Dennis Hodges?" the receptionist asked with surprise.

"None other," Calhoun said. "And I'll just take a seat here in the waiting area."

Calhoun watched as the receptionist phoned in to the interior of the organization. Calhoun was just beginning to appreciate the architecture and lavish interior decor when a matronly woman appeared and asked him to follow her.

"What do you mean, you want to discuss Dennis Hodges?" Cantor demanded the moment Calhoun stepped through Cantor's office door.

"Exactly that," Calhoun said.

"What the hell for?" Cantor asked.

"Mind if I sit down?" Calhoun said.

Cantor motioned toward one of the chairs facing his desk. Calhoun had to move a pile of unopened medical journals to the floor. Once he was seated he went through the usual routine of asking to smoke.

"As long as you give me one," Cantor said. "I've given up smoking except for whatever I can mooch."

Once they'd both lit up, Calhoun told Cantor that he'd been retained to discover Hodges' killer.

"I don't think I want to talk about that bastard," Cantor said.

"Can I ask why?" Calhoun said.

"Why should I?" Cantor asked.

"Obviously, to bring his murderer to justice," Calhoun said.

"I think justice has already been served," Cantor said. "Whoever rid us of that pest should be given a medal."

"I've been told you had a low opinion of the man," Calhoun said.

"That's an understatement," Cantor said. "He was despicable."

"Could you elaborate?" Calhoun asked.

"He didn't care about other people," Cantor said.

"Do you mean people in general, or other doctors?" Calhoun asked.

"Mostly doctors, I guess," Cantor said. "He just didn't care. He had one priority and that was this hospital. But his concept of the institution didn't extend to the physicians who staff it. He took over radiology and pathology and put a bunch of us out to pasture. All of us wanted to throttle him."

"Could you give me names?" Calhoun asked.

"Sure, it's no secret," Cantor said. He then counted off on his fingers five doctors, including himself.

"And you are the only one of this group who's still around."

"I'm the only one still in radiology," Cantor said. "Thank God for my having the foresight to set up this imaging center. Paul Darnell's still here too. He's in pathology."

"Do you know who killed Hodges?" Calhoun said.

Cantor started to speak, but then stopped himself. "You know something," he said, "I just realized that I've been spouting off despite having prefaced this conversation by saying I didn't want to talk about Hodges."

"Same thing occurred to me," Calhoun said. "Guess you changed your mind. So how about it; do you know who killed Hodges?"

"If I knew I wouldn't tell you," Cantor said.

Calhoun suddenly drew out his pocket watch which was attached by a short chain to one of his belt loops. "My word," he said. He stood up. "I'm sorry, but I have to break off this chat. I didn't realize the time. I'm afraid I have another appointment."

Stubbing out his cigar on an ashtray in front of the surprised Cantor, Calhoun rushed from the room. He went immediately to his truck, then drove down to the library. He caught up to Angela as she was strolling along the sidewalk leading to the entrance.

"I'm sorry to be late," Calhoun said after he reached across and opened the passenger door for her. "I was having so much fun talking with Dr. Cantor I didn't realize the time."

"I was a few minutes late myself," Angela said. She climbed into the cab. It smelled of stale cigar smoke.

"I'm curious about Dr. Cantor," she said. "Did he say anything enlightening?"

"He's not the one who killed Hodges," Calhoun said. "But he interested me. Same with Beaton. There's something going on here, I can feel it."

Calhoun cracked the driver's side window. "Mind if I smoke?"

"I assumed that was the reason we were taking your truck," Angela said.

"Just thought I'd ask," Calhoun said.

"Are you sure this visit to the state police is going to go all right?" Angela asked. "The more I've thought about it, the more nervous it makes me. After all, I'll be misrepresenting myself to a degree. I mean, I work at the hospital, but I don't really need the papers to take care of patients. I'm a pathologist."

"No need to worry," Calhoun said. "You might not even have to say anything. I already explained the whole deal to the lieutenant. He didn't have a problem."

"I'm trusting you," Angela said.

"You won't be disappointed," Calhoun said. "But I have a question for you. Your husband's reaction last night is still bothering me. I don't want to cause any trouble between you and your husband. The problem is I'm having more fun on this case than on any since leaving the force. What if I lower my hourly rate. Will that help?"

"Thank you for your concern," Angela said, "but I'm sure David will be fine provided we stick to the one-week time frame."

Despite Calhoun's reassurances, Angela still felt nervous as she climbed out of the truck at state police headquarters in Burlington, but her concern was unnecessary. Calhoun's presence made the operation go far more smoothly than Angela could have hoped. Calhoun did all the talking. The policeman in charge of the evidence could not have been nicer or more accommodating.

"While you're at it," Calhoun said to the officer, "how about making two sets of copies."