Nikki was much happier now that she was out of the ICU. Her only complaint was that she'd been transferred to one of the old hospital beds and, as usual, the controls didn't work. The foot would rise but not the head.

"Did you tell the nurses?" David asked.

"Yeah," Nikki said. "But they haven't told me when it will be fixed. I can't watch the TV with my head flat."

"Is this a frequent problem?" Angela asked.

"Unfortunately," David said. He told her what Van Slyke had said about the hospital purchasing the wrong kind of beds. "They probably saved a few dollars buying the cheap ones. But any money saved has been lost in maintenance costs. It's that old expression: penny-wise and pound-foolish."

David left Angela with Nikki while he sought out Janet Colburn. When he found her he asked if Van Slyke had been alerted about Nikki's bed.

"He has, but you know Van Slyke," Janet said.

Back in Nikki's room, David assured her that if her bed wasn't fixed by that evening, he'd do it himself. Angela had already informed her that she and David were on their way to Boston but would be back that afternoon. They'd come see her as soon as they were back.

Returning to the front of the hospital, Angela and David piled into Calhoun's truck. Soon they were on their way south on the interstate. David found the trip uncomfortable for more reasons than the truck's poor suspension. Even though Calhoun cracked his window, cigar smoke swirled around inside the cab. By the time they got to Clara Hodges' Back Bay address in Boston, David's eyes were watering.

Clara Hodges struck David as having been a good match for Dennis Hodges. She was a big-boned, solid woman with piercing, deep-set eyes and an intimidating scowl.

She invited them into her parlor decorated with heavy Victorian furnishing. Only a meager amount of daylight penetrated the thick velvet drapes. Despite being midday the chandelier and all the table lamps were turned on.

Angela introduced herself and David as the purchasers of Clara's home in Bartlet.

"Hope you like it better than I did," Clara said. "It was too big and drafty, especially for only two people."

She offered tea which David took with relish. Not only were his eyes burning from the secondhand smoke in the truck, but his throat was parched.

"I can't say I'm pleased about this visit," Clara said once her tea was poured. "I'm upset this ugly business has surfaced. I'd just about adjusted to Dennis's disappearance when I learned that he'd been murdered."

"I'm sure you share our interest in bringing his killer to justice," Calhoun said.

"It wouldn't matter much now," Clara said. "Besides, we'd all be dragged through some awful trial. I preferred it the way it was, just not knowing."

"Do you have any suspicions about who killed your husband?" Calhoun asked.

"I'm afraid there are a lot of candidates," Clara said. "You have to understand two things about Dennis. First off, he was bull-headed, which made him hard to get along with. Not that he didn't have a good side, too. The second thing about Dennis was his obsession with the hospital. He was at constant odds with the board and that woman administrator they recruited from Boston.

"I suppose any one of a dozen people could have gotten angry enough to do him in. Yet I just can't imagine any one of them actually beating him. Too messy for all those doctors and bureaucrats, don't you think?"

"I understand that Dr. Hodges thought he knew the identity of the ski-masked rapist," Calhoun said. "Is that a fair statement?"

"That's certainly what he implied," Clara said.

"Did he ever mention any names?" Calhoun asked.

"The only thing he said was that the rapist was someone connected to the hospital," Clara said.

"An employee of the hospital?" Calhoun asked.

"He didn't elaborate," Clara said. "He was purposefully vague. That man lived to lord things over you. But he did say he wanted to speak to the person himself, thinking he could get him to stop."

"Lordy," Calhoun said. "That sounds like a dangerous thing to do. Do you think he did?"

"I don't know," Clara said. "He might have. But then he decided to go to that abominable Wayne Robertson with his suspicions. We got into a fearful quarrel over the issue. I didn't want him to go since I was sure he and Robertson would only squabble. Robertson always did have it in for him. I told him to tell Robertson his suspicions by phone or write him a letter, but Dennis wouldn't hear of it. He was so stubborn."

"Was that the day he disappeared?" Calhoun asked.

"That's right," Clara said. "But in the end Dennis didn't see Robertson-not because of my advice, mind you. He got all upset over one of his former patients dying. He said he was going to have lunch with Dr. Holster instead of seeing Robertson."

"Was this patient Clark Davenport?" Calhoun asked.

"Why yes," Clara said with surprise. "How did you know?"

"Why was Dr. Hodges so upset about Clark Davenport?" Calhoun asked, ignoring Clara's question. "Were they good friends?"

"They were acquaintances," Clara said. "Clark was more a patient, and Dennis had diagnosed Clark's cancer which Dr. Holster had successfully treated. After the treatment Dennis had felt confident that they'd caught the cancer early enough. But then Clark's employer switched to CMV and the next thing Dennis knew, Clark was dead."

"What did Clark die of?" David asked suddenly, speaking up for the first time. His voice had an urgent quality that Angela noticed immediately.

"You've got me there," Clara said. "I don't recall. I'm not sure I ever knew. But it wasn't his cancer. I remember Dennis saying that."

"Did your husband have any other medically similar patients who ended up dying unexpectedly?" David asked.

"What do you mean by medically similar?" Clara asked.

"People with cancer or other serious diseases," David said.

"Oh, yes," Clara said. "He had a number. And it was their deaths that upset him so. He became convinced that some of the CMV doctors were incompetent."

David asked Angela for copies of the admission sheets she and Calhoun had gotten from Burlington. As Angela was searching for them, Calhoun pulled out his set from one of his voluminous pockets.

David fumbled with the papers as he unfolded them. He handed them to Clara. "Look at these names," he said. "Do you recognize any?"

"I'll have to get my reading glasses," Clara said. She stood up and left the room.

"What are you so agitated about?" Angela whispered to David.

"Yeah, calm down, boy," Calhoun said. "You'll get our witness all upset and she'll start forgetting things."

"Something is beginning to dawn on me," David said. "And I don't like it one bit."

Before Angela could ask David to explain, Clara returned with her reading glasses. She picked up the papers and quickly glanced through them.

"I recognize all these people," Clara said. "I'd heard their names a hundred times, and I'd met most of them."

"I was told all of them died," Calhoun said. "Is that true?"

"That's right," Clara said. "Just like Clark Davenport. These are the people whose deaths had particularly upset Dennis. For a while I heard about them every day."

"Were their deaths all unexpected?" Calhoun asked.

"Yes and no," Clara said. "I mean it was unexpected for these people to die at the particular time they did. As you can see from these papers, most of the people were hospitalized for problems that usually aren't fatal. But they all had battled terminal illnesses like cancer, so in that sense their deaths weren't totally unexpected."

David reached out and took the papers back. He glanced through them quickly, then looked up at Clara. "Let me be sure I understand," he said. "These admission summary sheets are the admissions during which these people died."