“Nope. There was a whole briefcase brigade at first, along with pet doctors just itching to declare the son of a bitch competent, but they went away discouraged once they saw him drooling and trying to pick up a spoon. Came back a few times just to double-check, fewer briefcase boys every time, but nothing lately. ’S’far’s they’re concerned, he’s a total gork. Badda-boop, badda-bang, over and out.”

“So they don’t care.” And why would they? Except for the occasional retrospective on slow news days, interest in Brady Hartsfield has died down. There’s always fresh roadkill to pick over.

“You know they don’t.” A lock of hair has fallen in her eyes. She blows it back. “Did anyone try to stop you, all the times you were in to visit him?”

No, Hodges thinks, but it’s been a year and a half since I dropped by. “If there is a visitors list—”

“It’d be Babineau’s, not the DA’s. When it comes to the Mercedes Killer, DA is like honeybadger, Bill. He don’t give a shit.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“Could you check and see if there is such a list? Now that you’ve been promoted to head nurse?”

She considers, then says, “It wouldn’t be on the computer, that would be too easy to check, but Scapelli kept a couple of file folders in a locked drawer at the duty desk. She was a great one for keeping track of who’s naughty and who’s nice. If I found something, would it be worth twenty to you?”

“Fifty, if you could call me tomorrow.” Hodges isn’t sure she’ll even remember this conversation tomorrow. “Time is of the essence.”

“If such a list exists, it’s probably just power-tripping bullshit, you know. Babineau likes to keep Hartsfield to his little old self.”

“But you’ll check?”

“Yeah, why not? I know where she hides the key to her locked drawer. Shit, most of the nurses on the floor know. Hard to get used to the idea old Nurse Ratched’s dead.”

Hodges nods.

“He can move things, you know. Without touching them.” Norma’s not looking at him; she’s making rings on the table with the bottom of her glass. It looks like she’s trying to replicate the Olympic logo.

“Hartsfield?”

“Who are we talking about? Yeah. He does it to freak out the nurses.” She raises her head. “I’m drunk, so I’ll tell you something I’d never say sober. I wish Babineau would kill him. Just give him a hot shot of something really toxic and boot him out the door. Because he scares me.” She pauses, then adds, “He scares all of us.”

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