“Someone we should notify?” Marge stated.

Shockley’s hands were shaking. He didn’t answer.

Marge walked over to a lacquered cabinet and opened the door. She took down a decanter of amber liquid and a cut-crystal glass. “Pour you a shot?”

Shockley nodded. Marge gave him a finger’s worth of booze, and the doctor bolted it down. His face took on an instant blush, but he still couldn’t seem to find his vocal cords. He held out his empty glass to Marge.

She poured him another round. “Was Dr. Leonard involved in the Curedon trials?”

Shockley drank the hooch. “He…” He cleared his throat. “He’s one of our primary statisticians in our computer department.”

“Medical doctor?” Marge asked.

“Doctor of mathematics. His field is research design.”

Oliver said, “Then he’d be familiar with the Curedon trial numbers.”

“Yes, I’d think so.” Shockley wiped spittle off the corner of his mouth. “Maybe he wouldn’t have the numbers memorized, but he’d know how the trials were going. Ken supervised an enormous caseload. What…what happened?”

Marge said, “Do you know if he has a girlfriend?”

Shockley paused, then shook his head no. “Not that I know of. He kept to himself. Spent more time with his numbers than with people. But that’s usually the case with our design experts. More at home in front of terminals than with cocktails in their hands.”

Oliver said, “We’ll need to talk to some of his co-workers.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to get everything cleared. Security measures. Especially now.”

Oliver and Marge exchanged glances. Oliver said, “How about a little leeway, Doctor. Otherwise, we come back here with subpoenas and warrants and turn this place upside down.”

Shockley frowned, wiped his brow. “I do what I have to do. You do what you have to do.”

Mentally, Oliver counted to ten. Keep the situation under control. Oliver leaned over Shockley’s shoulder. “Do you know what Leonard was doing at Decameron’s house?”

Shockley paused. “No…”

Marge leaned over his other shoulder. “Sir, you’re lying—”

“I’m not ly—”

“Then you’re snowin’ us with half-truths,” Oliver said. “What was he doing there?”

“I swear I don’t know!”

“Take a guess,” Marge said.

Shockley started sweating profusely. “Maybe discussing Curedon with Decameron.”

“Why would he go to Decameron’s house to discuss Curedon when we have inventions called telephones and fax machines?”

Again, Shockley wiped his brow. “I haven’t the faintest idea—”

“Do you know, sir,” Marge said, “that every time you lie, the corner of your left eye twitches?”

“Why are you pressing me? I don’t have answers!”

“Twitch, twitch,” Oliver said.

Marge said, “Well, if you don’t have answers, Dr. Shockley, maybe you have questions. Like what happened to the Curedon data that Dr. Decameron was going to show us?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”