Liz glared at Decameron. “Thank God you’re back to normal. For a moment, I almost liked you.”

“Where is the little puppy?”

“Reggie, knock it off.”

“What about Myron Berger, Lieutenant?” Decameron asked. “Have you met the last of Azor’s three stooges?”

“This morning.”

“I suppose he brought up my tiff with Azor.”

“I brought it up, Reg,” Liz said.

Decameron’s eyes widened. “Et tu, Judas?”

“You’re mixing your metaphors.” Liz paused. “As a matter of fact, the police brought it up to me. They said you told them about it.”

“I did indeed…to head Myron off.” To Decker, Decameron said, “And what did Dr. Berger tell you? I was spouting smoke through my nostrils, ready to kill Azor for dressing me down in public?”

Decker said, “Actually, he spoke temperately.”

“That’s not temperance, Lieutenant, that’s fear of an opinion. But don’t take my word for it about Myron. Just ask around. Ah, the word of God cometh…and in such a pretty package.” Decameron waited a beat, then stuck out his hand. “Hello, Father Bram. How’s your mother holding up? I’d ask her myself, but she doesn’t like me.”

Bram shook Decameron’s hand. “Coping. Thanks for asking. How’s the hospital?”

“Myron’s doing a superb job calming the patients,” Liz said. “But your father is…missed. I sure miss him.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, grabbed Bram’s hand. “You spoke wonderfully today.”

“Not a dry eye in the house, Padre,” Decameron commented. “You’re quite the orator. Maybe I’ll show up one Sunday Mass.”

“You’d always be welcome.”

“Isn’t he wonderful!” Decameron said. “How’s the rest of the family doing?”

“Managing.”

“What can we do for you, Bram?” Liz said.

“Nothing at the moment.” Skillfully, the priest liberated his hand from Liz’s grip. “But if I need anything, I won’t hesitate. You’ve all been introduced?”

“More or less.” Decameron looked at his watch. “As interesting as it’s been, I should be getting back to the hospital. Do you need anything specific from me, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, I do need something if you don’t mind.”

“What?”

Decker looked around, dropped his voice. “I believe you met Detectives Dunn and Oliver last night.”

“That I did.”

“They went out to Fisher/Tyne this morning, interviewed a Dr. Gordon Shockley—”

“Oh God!” Decameron clucked his tongue. “Forgive me, Father. Sin number three of the Decalogue. Am I absolved?”

“Absolutely, as long as you refrain from doing it again.” Bram smiled. “At least in my presence.”

To Decker, Decameron said, “Gordon’s a toad. Did he give them a hard time?”

“Well, let’s say he played it pretty close to the bone.”

“What do you need?”

“They were wondering if you have the data from the Fisher/Tyne-FDA trials of Curedon?”

“Yes, of course. Why do they want it?”

“Because Shockley refused to divulge it.”