"I think," Boone said, "that maybe Symington really was in love with Ellerbee. Sexually, I mean."

"It's possible," Delaney said.

"It's even possible that Ellerbee responded.

Maybe the good doctor was iced because of a lover's quarrel. But that just shows how this warped world is getting to me. Finished? I think we better get back; Jason said he'd be there at one o'clock."

"I hope he's found something heavy."

"Don't hold your breath," Delaney advised.

Monica had been out doing volunteer work at a local hospital. When she returned home, she had found Jason T. Jason sitting outside the brownstone in the unmarked police car. She brought him into the kitchen and they were having a coffee when Delaney and Boone walked in. The three men went into the study, Jason carrying a manila envelope.

"So," Delaney said to Jason, "how did you make out?"

The black cop was a boulder of a man: six-four, 250-and very little of that suet. His skin was a ruddy cordovan that always seemed polished to a high gloss. He wore his hair clipped short, like a knitted helmet, but his sharply trimmed mustache stretched from cheek to cheek. His hands were hams and his feet bigger than Delaney's.

Jason Two lived with his wife, Juanita, and two young sons in Hicksville, Long Island. He had been six years in the Department and had two citations, a number of solid busts and some good assists. He was hoping for a detective's shield but so were twenty thousand other cops.

"I don't know how I did," he confessed, opening the manila envelope.

"First time I looked for a perp in a library. I got three reports here, on the two Ellerbees and Doc Samuelson. I did them up on my older boy's typewriter. I'm a twofingered typist, both thumbs, so there's a lot of marking out and corrections, but I think you'll be able to read them.

Anyway, they're mostly cut-and-dried stuff. dates, ages, education, family background, their college degrees, and so forth.

To be honest, sir, I don't think it all amounts to diddley-squat.

I mean, I can't see any of it helping us find Ellerbee's killer."

"Nothing unusual?" Delaney asked.

"Nothing that struck you as being out of the ordinary or worth taking a second look at?"

"Not really," Jason said slowly.

"About the most unusual thing was that Samuelson had a breakdown some years ago.

That seemed odd to me: a psychiatrist cracking up. They said it was exhaustion from overwork. He was out of action for about six months. But then he went back to his office and took up his caseload again."

Delaney turned to Boone – "He said his wife died of cancer, didn't he, and his son was killed in an automobile accident?

That would be enough to knock anyone for a loop. Anything else, Jason?"

"Well, sir, I collected all the facts and figures I could in the time I had. All that's in my reports. Most of it came from books, newspapers, and professional journals. But I talked to a lot of people, too. Friends and associates of all three doctors. And after I got the factual stuff I wanted, I'd bullshit awhile with them. Funny how people run off at the mouth when they hear it's a murder investigation. Anyway, I heard some stuff that may or may not mean anything. I didn't put it in my reports because it was just hearsay. I mean, none of it is hard evidence."

"You did just right, Jose," Sergeant Boone said.

"We need every scrap we can get. What did you hear?"

"First of all, practically every guy I talked to mentioned how beautiful Diane is. They all sounded like they were in love with her. I've never seen her, but she must be some foxy lady."

"She is," Delaney and Boone said simultaneously, and they all laughed.

"Well,'everyone said how lucky Doc Simon was to hook on to someone like her: a looker with plenty of the green. But one guy swears Ellerbee wasn't all that anxious to marry, but she had her mind set on it. I told you I heard a lot of rumors.

Some of the guys admitted they made a play for her, even after she was married, but it was no dice; she was straight."

"Any gossip about Doctor Simon playing around?" Delaney asked.

"Nada, " Jason said.

"Apparently he was a cold, controlled kind of guy. I mean, he was pleasant enough, good company and all that, but a secret man; he didn't reveal much. At least that's what most people said. But I talked to one woman she's the secretary of that association he belonged to and she said she saw Ellerbee at a dinner about a month before he was iced. She said she was surprised at how he had changed since she saw him last. She said he was singing, and a lot more outgoing than he had been. Seemed really happy, she said."

Delaney and Boone stared at each other.

"Crazy," the Sergeant said, shaking his head.

Delaney explained to Jason why they were puzzled. He told him that Sylvia Mae Otherton had claimed Ellerbee had become quieter, more thoughtful, not depressed but subdued.

"It doesn't jibe," Jason said.

"One of those ladies must be wrong."

"Not necessarily," Delaney said.

"Maybe they just caught him in different moods. But what's interesting is that they both noticed a recent change in his disposition. I'd like to know what brought that on. It's probably nothing, but still…

Sergeant, why don't you tell Jason about the patients we've seen."

When Boone finished, Jason said, "Whoa-ee! Those people-doesn't sound like their elevators go to the top floor."

"They're a little meshugenah," Delaney admitted.

"Sometimes they make sense and sometimes they're way out in left field.

Our problem is going to be separating what's real from what's part of their never-never world. I don't see how we can do anything but let them blabber and then try to figure the meaning later. I'll have to warn the new people about that when they come in Monday morning."

"Sir," Boone said, "how are you going to handle those guys-assign one to each of the patients?"

"That was my first plan, and maybe it would work if we were covering punks and small-time hoods. But these subjects are mostly educated and intelligent, even if their brains rattle a little. I think we'll get better results if each detective has a chance to talk to three or four of the patients. And then select the one he feels he can work with best.

You know how sometimes a witness will clam up with one dick and then spill his guts to another because he feels the second guy is more simpatico. We'll try to pair detective and subject so it'll do us the most good."

They talked for another hour, discussing how they would organize the investigation so detectives wouldn't be duplicating each other's work unless a double-check was deemed necessary Deianey decided that Boone and Jason would each be responsible for scheduling and supervising three detectives. The two of them would then submit daily reports to Delaney on the activities of their squads.

"I expect a certain amount of confusion at first," he told them, "but I want the two of you to coordinate your planning as much as possible.

I'll keep the files, which will be open to all of you. Just tell your guys to put everything in their reports, no matter how stupid or meaningless they might think it. And the first thing I want done is to have these six patients run through Records. If they're as violent as Doctor Diane seems to think, some of them should have sheets."

The- _aded ideas awhile longer, then Delaney glanced up at the walnut-cased regulator on the wall, a relic from a demolished railroad station.

"Getting late," he said.

"Why don't the three of us try Ronald J. Bellsey again-just walk in on him without warning. He should be home by now. Jason, we'll take your car and you can drop us back here."

On the drive south, Delaney remembered to ask Jason Two if he and his family would like to come for Thanksgiving Day dinner.