I resisted the urge to lift him by his T-shirt and shake him. “Mr. Marx, by a week from Tuesday, Sonia may be dead. Even if she recovers from today’s assault, it’s hard to guard someone in a hospital—there are too many ways in and out of the building, and no one is enthusiastic about protecting her.

“I know you’ve tried to work with her. I know she’s a pain, but right now she’s a living, breathing pain. If you won’t let me see Sonia’s papers tonight, my lawyer will be in court tomorrow to get me appointed Sonia’s guardian ad interim. And if something happens to her between now and my getting that authority, I will sue you and St. Rafe’s for causing harm to her by your failure to act tonight.”

I know you catch more flies with honey, but I didn’t want any more damned flies piling up around me. I wanted Sonia’s writings.

Marx looked at me with as much loathing as his colorless face could summon and tapped a speed-dial number on his phone. “Hank—Marx here.” He sketched the scenario I’d proposed, apparently was told I could make it happen, and turned to me to say sulkily that Chet would escort me up to Sonia’s room and oversee anything I took away with me.

“I didn’t think having Sonia here could get any worse, but you’ve certainly proved me wrong.”

I bared my teeth. “Sonia never had an advocate before. You have a good trip, and comfort yourself with the hope that before you get back, I’ll have sorted out this situation to the point that I can head for my own home.”

Chet was the young man with the handheld device. He led me to Sonia’s room on the second floor, expressing his ill humor at being asked to work by going as slowly as possible.

“Sorry to tear you away from your game,” I said. “Why don’t you give me the key so you can get back to your battle station?”

“Against regulations,” he said huffily, but he picked up his pace. When he’d opened the door to Sonia’s room, he left me alone to explore.

I was keeping an eye on the clock: I could spend only fifteen minutes here if I wanted to get back to Peppy by six. Fortunately, it was a small space, with a bed, an open closet that included shelves and drawers, and a table big enough to write at. Bathrooms were shared among the residents, but the room held a sink. No coffeemakers or hot plates; kitchens were also shared.