Myron shook his head. He watched too much TV.

Karen Singh sat on the corner of the mattress, and Myron studied her face for a moment. She had long sharp features. Everything pointed down--her nose, her chin, her eyebrows. Sort of harsh.

"You're staring," she said.

"I don't mean to."

She pointed to her forehead. "You were maybe expecting a dot?"

"Er, no."

"Very good, then let's get to it, shall we?"

"Okay."

"Mrs. Downing wants me to tell you whatever you want to know."

"I appreciate your taking the time."

"Are you a private investigator?" she asked.

"More like a family friend."

"Did you play basketball with Greg Downing?"

Myron was always surprised by the memory of the public. After all these years, people could still recall his big games, his big shots, sometimes with more clarity than Myron could. "You're a fan?"

"Nope," she said. "Can't stand sports actually."

"So how did you--"

"Just a deduction. You're tall and about the right age and you said you were a family friend. So..." She shrugged.

"Nice deduction."

"It's what we do here when you think about it. Deduce. Some diagnoses are easy. Others must be deduced from the evidence. You ever read Sherlock Holmes?"

"Sure."

"Sherlock said that you should never theorize before you have facts--because then you twist facts to suit theories rather than twisting theories to suit facts. If you see a misdiagnosis, nine times out of ten they ignored Sherlock's axiom."

"Did that happen with Jeremy Downing?"

"As a matter of fact," she said, "it did."

Somewhere down the hall, a machine started beeping. The sound hit the nerves like a police taser.

"So his first doctor screwed up?"

"I won't get into that. But Fanconi anemia isn't common. And because it looks like other things, it's often misdiagnosed."

"So tell me about Jeremy."

"What's to tell? He has it. Fanconi anemia, that is. In simple terms, his bone marrow is corrupted."

"Corrupted?"

"In layman's term, it's shit. It makes him susceptible to a host of infections and even cancers. It commonly turns into AML." She saw the puzzled look on his face and added, "That's acute myelogenous leukemia."

"But you can cure him?"

" 'Cure' is an optimistic word," she said. "But with a bone marrow transplant and treatments with a new flu-darabine compound, yes, I believe his prognosis is excellent."

"Fluda-what?"

"Not important. We need a bone marrow donor that matches Jeremy. That's what counts here."

"And you don't have one."

Dr. Singh shifted on the mattress. "That's correct."

Myron felt the resistance. He decided to back off, test another flank. "Could you take me through the transplant process?"

"Step by step?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

She shrugged. "First step: find a donor."

"How do you go about that?"

"You try family members, of course. Siblings have the best chance of matching. Then parents. Then people of similar background."

"When you say people of similar background--"

"Blacks with blacks, Jews with Jews, Latino descent with Latino descent. You'll see that quite often in marrow drives. If the patient is, for example, a Hasidic Jew, the donation drives will take place within their shuls. Mixed blood is usually the hardest to match."