As it turned out, most of the people I would have tried to see came to visit me, along with a few I could just as well have done without, such as the police. Lieutenant Mallory arrived in person, a sign not of my importance but of his angry concern—angry because I should have stayed clear of police business, concern because he’d been close to both my parents.

“Vicki, put yourself in my place for a change. One of your oldest friends dies and every time you turn around his only kid is thumbing her nose at you. How do you think I feel?”

“I know how you feel; you’ve told me six billion times,” I said churlishly. I hate having to talk to people in a hospital gown—it’s like you’re a kid in bed and they’re tucking you in for the night.

“If you’d been killed, I would have carried that responsibility to my grave. Can’t you understand that? Can’t you see when I give you orders it’s out of concern for your safety, because of what I owe Tony and Gabriella? What will it take to pound some sense into you?”

I glowered at the bedclothes. “I’m self-employed just so I don’t have to take orders from anyone. Anyway, Bobby, I did agree not to go to the state’s attorney about Nancy Cleghorn. And I agreed to tell you if I ran into anything that looked like a lead into her death. I didn’t.”

“You obviously did!” he shouted, pounding the bedside table so hard that the water pitcher fell over. That put the cap to his anger—he yelled out the door for an orderly, then shouted at the man until the floor was cleaned to his satisfaction. My roommate turned off The Dating Game and scurried out to the lounge.

When the place was dry again Bobby made an effort to smother his anger. He took me through the details of the episode, waiting patiently at the spots that were hard for me to talk about, prompting me professionally when I couldn’t remember something. The fact that I had a name, even just a first name, cheered him slightly—if Troy was a pro tied to any known organization, the police would have a file on him.

“Now, Vicki”—Bobby was genial—“let’s get to the heart of the matter. If you didn’t know anything about Cleghorn’s death, why did someone try to kill you in the same manner, and in the same place that they murdered her?”

“Gee, Bobby, the way you put it, I guess I must know who killed her. Or at least why.”

“Exactly. Now let’s have it.”

I shook my head, gingerly, since the back was still on the sore side. “It’s just the way you put it. The way I look at it, I must’ve talked to someone who thinks I know more than I really do. The trouble is, I’ve talked to so many people the last few days and all of them have been so unpleasant that I don’t know which I’d choose as my grade-A suspect.”