"Have a good trip," David said. He hung up before he could say something he might regret. Angela's priorities irked him. While he was worrying himself sick about Caroline and Nikki, she was still obsessed with the Hodges affair.
"I appreciate your seeing me," Calhoun said as he took a chair in front of Helen Beaton's desk. "As I told your secretary, I only have a few questions."
"And I have a question for you," Beaton said.
"Who should go first?" Calhoun asked. Then he held up his pack of cigars. "May I smoke?"
"No, you may not smoke," Beaton said. "There's no smoking in this hospital. And I think I should ask my questions first. The answer might affect the duration of this interview."
"By all means," Calhoun said. "You first."
"Who hired you?" Beaton asked.
"That's an unfair question," Calhoun said.
"And why is that?"
"Because my clients have a right to privacy," Calhoun said. "Now it's my turn. I understand that Dr. Hodges was a frequent visitor to your office."
"If I may interrupt," Beaton said. "If your clients choose to withhold their identity, then I see no reason to cooperate with you."
"That's up to you," Calhoun said. "Of course there are those who might wonder why the president of a hospital would have a problem speaking about her immediate predecessor. They might even start thinking you know who killed Hodges."
"Thank you for coming in," Beaton said. She stood up and smiled. "You won't goad me into talking, not without my knowing just who's behind your efforts. My main concern is the hospital. Good day, Mr. Calhoun."
Calhoun got to his feet. "I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again," he said.
Calhoun left administration and descended to the basement. His next interviewee was Werner Van Slyke. Calhoun found him in the hospital shop replacing electrical motors in several hospital beds.
"Werner Van Slyke?" Calhoun questioned.
"Yeah," Van Slyke said in his monotone.
"Name's Calhoun. Mind if I have a chat with you?"
"What about?"
"Dr. Dennis Hodges," Calhoun said.
"If you don't mind my working," Van Slyke said. He turned his attention back to the motors.
"Are these beds a frequent problem?" Calhoun asked.
"Unfortunately," Van Slyke said.
"Since you're head of the department, why are you doing them yourself?" Calhoun asked.
"I want to make sure it's done right," Van Slyke said.
Calhoun retired to the workbench and sat on a stool. "Mind if I smoke?" he asked.
"Whatever," Van Slyke said.
"I thought the hospital was a smoke-free environment," Calhoun said as he took out a cigar. He offered one to Van Slyke. Van Slyke paused as if he were giving it considerable thought. Then he took one. Calhoun lit Van Slyke's before his own.
"I understand you knew Hodges pretty well," Calhoun said.
"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?"