That's why we asked for this meeting, hoping we might learn something from you that will aid our investigation. First of all, would it hurt too much to talk about your husband?"

"No," she said decisively. "I'll be thinking about Simon and talking about Simon for the rest of my life."

"What kind of a man was he?"

"A very superior human being. Kind, gentle, with a marvelous sympathy for other people's unhappiness. I think everyone in the profession who knew him or met him recognized how gifted he was. In addition to that, he had a first-class mind. He could get to the cause of a psychiatric problem so fast that many of his associates called it instinct."

As she spoke, Delaney, while listening, observed her closely. Ivar Thorsen and Monica had been right: Diane Ellerbee was a regal beauty.

A softly sharp profile suitable for a coin. Sky-blue eyes that seemed to change hue with her temper. A direct, challenging gaze. A porcelain complexion. A generous mouth that promised smiles and kisses.

She was wearing a severely tailored suit of pin-striped flannel, but a tent couldn't have concealed her figure. She didn't move; she flowed.

What was so disconcerting, almost frightening, was the woman's completeness. She wasn't a Valkyrie, he decided; she was a Brancusi sculpture- something serene that wooed the eye with its form and soothed with its surface. "Marvelous" was the word that came to his mind-meaning something of wonder. Supernatural.

"Don't get me wrong," she said, fiddling with a ballpoint pen on her desk and looking down at it. "I don't want to make Simon sound like a perfect man. He wasn't, of course. He had his moods. Fits of silence.

Rare but occasional outbursts of anger. Most of the time he was a sunny, placable man. When he was depressed, it was usually because he felt he was failing a patient. He set for himself very high goals indeed, and when he felt he was falling short of his potential, it bothered him."

"Did you notice any change in him in, say, the last six months or a year?" Boone asked.

"Change?"

"In his manner, his personality. Did he act like a man with worries or, maybe, like a man who had received serious threats against his life?"

She pondered that for a moment. "No," she said finally, "I noticed no change."

"Doctor Ellerbee," Boone said earnestly, "we are currently investigating your husband's patients, under the terms of an agreement negotiated between Doctor Samuelson and the NYPD. Are you familiar with that compromise?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "Julie told me about it."

"Do you think it possible that one of the patients may have been the assailant?"

"Yes, it's possible."

"Have you yourself ever been attacked by one of your patients?"

"Occasionally."

"And how do you handle that?"

"You must realize," she said with a wry smile, "that most of my patients are children. Still, my first reaction is to protect myself. And I am a strong woman. I refuse to let myself be bullied or suffer injury."

"You fight back?"

"Exactly. You'd be surprised at how effective that technique can be."

"Did you and your husband talk business when you were alone together?"

"Business?" she said, and the smile became broader and more charming.

"Yes, we talked business-if you mean discussing our cases. We did it constantly. He sought my reactions and advice and I sought his.

Sergeant, this is not a profession that ends when you lock your office door for the night."

"The reason I asked, ma'am, is this: Your husband had a great number of patients, particularly if you include all he'd discharged. It's going to take a lot of time and a lot of work to investigate them all. We were hoping you might be able to help us speed up the process. If your husband discussed his cases with you-as you say he did-would you be willing to pick out those patients you feel might be violent?"

She was silent, staring at them both, while her long, tapered fingers played with the pen on the desk top.

"I don't know," she said worriedly. "It's a troublesome question, involving medical ethics. I'm not sure how far I should go on this.

Sergeant, I'm not going to say yes or no at this moment. I think I better get some other opinions. Julie Samuelson's, for one. If I acted on impulse, I'd say, hell, yes, I'll do anything I can to help. But I don't want to do the wrong thing. Can I get back to you? It shouldn't take more than a day or so."

"The sooner the better," Boone said, then glanced swiftly at Delaney, signaling that he was finished.

Delaney, who was pleased with the way the Sergeant had conducted the interrogation, hunched forward in his chair, hands clasped between spread knees, and stared at Diane Ellerbee.

"Doctor," he said, "I have a question-a very personal question you may find offensive. But it's got to be asked. Was your husband faithful to you?"

She threw the ballpoint pen across the desk. It fell to the floor, and she didn't bother to retrieve it. They saw her spine stiffen, jaw tighten. Those sky-blue eyes seemed to darken.

She glared at Edward X. Delaney.

"My husband was faithful," she said loudly. "Faithful from the day we were married. I realize people say that the wife is always the last to know, but I swear to you I know my husband was faithful. We worked at our marriage, and it was a happy one. I was faithful to Simon, and he was faithful to me."

"No children?" Delaney said.

She gave a slight grimace-pain, distaste?

"You go for the jugular, don't you?" she said harshly. "No, no children.

I'm incapable. Is that going to help you find my husband's killer?"

Delaney rose to his feet, and a second later, Sergeant Boone jumped up.

"Doctor Ellerbee," Delaney said, "I want to thank you for your cooperation.

I can't promise that what you've told us will aid our investigation-but you never know. It would help a great deal if you'd be willing to name those of your husband's patients you feel might be capable of homicidal violence."

"I'll talk to Julie," she said, nodding. "If he approves, I'll do it.

Either way, I'll be in touch as soon as I can."

Boone handed over his card. "I can be reached at this number, Doctor Ellerbee, or you can leave a message. Thank you for your help, ma'am."

Outside, they walked west to York Avenue, fists jammed into their pockets, shoulders hunched against the cutting wind.

"Nice job," Delaney said. "You handled that just right."

"A beautiful, beautiful woman," Boone said. "But what did we get?

Zilch."

"I'm not so sure. It was interesting. And yes, she's a beautiful woman."

"You think she was telling the truth, sir? About her husband being faithful?"

"Why not? You're faithful to Rebecca, aren't you? And I know I'm faithful to Monica. Not all husbands sleep around.

Sergeant, I think you better make an appointment for us with Doctor Samuelson as soon as possible. Maybe we can convince him to tell her to pick out the crazies from her husband's patient list."

"She sure seems to rely a hell of a lot on his opinion."

"Oh, you noticed that too, did you?"

They parted on York. Boone headed uptown to his apartment; Delaney walked down to his brownstone.

He had left a note for Monica, telling her that he might be late and to go ahead and have dinner if she was hungry. But she had waited for him, keeping a casserole of veal and onions warm in the oven.

While they ate, he told her about the interview with Dr. Diane Ellerbee.

He wanted to get her reaction.

"She sounds like a woman under very heavy pressure," Monica said when Delaney finished describing the interview.

"Oh, hell, yes. The death of her husband has gotten to her-no doubt of that. That's why she's been leaning on the Department; at least it gives her the feeling that she's doing something. Both Abner and I thought she put unusual reliance on Doctor Samuelson. Granted that he's the president of an important professional association, still it sounded like she doesn't want to make a move without consulting him. A curious relationship. Abner is going to set up a meet with Samuelson. Maybe we'll learn more."