Shockley turned his desk chair around to his credenza and jerked open a file drawer. With trembling hands, he went through a number of folders.

“What are you looking for, sir?” Oliver asked.

Shockley didn’t answer, kept plowing through papers. Finally, he fished out a sheet.

“Oh, thank you, God!” He handed the paper to Marge. “The payoff for being organized. Here. You don’t believe me, take a look for yourselves.”

A personal memo from Leonard to Shockley. Dated two months ago. Regarding Curedon trials. Skimming through the statistical mumbo jumbo of correlations, variants, and r-squares, Marge read the conclusion. Mediocre results with slight but not significant differences noted between Curedon and current market medication. Leonard’s signature graced the bottom of the page. Marge handed the memo to Scott.

“This is dated over sixty days ago,” Oliver said. “Why didn’t you tell us about this memo when we first came here a couple of days ago?”

“Because first of all, I had no intention of revealing internal policy to you. And second of all, which is the truth…at that time, I was so stunned about Azor’s death that frankly I forgot about it—”

“Doctor—”

“It’s true!”

Oliver said, “You refused to show us Curedon’s data. Is this what you were hiding? The fact that the numbers weren’t great?”

“I wasn’t hiding anything.” Shockley sat up. “Yes, I was aware that Curedon was going through some rough spots. But with Azor on our team, I felt confident that we could overcome our problems. Now, with him gone, the board has recommended reevaluating the project. We had Kenny run some new correlates. We didn’t like the results.”

“Let’s back it up,” Marge said. “Why would Leonard go to Decameron’s house? Why not just call him?”

“I don’t have any notion why.”

“Maybe he was trying to warn Decameron.”

“About what?” Shockley asked.

“About not getting in Fisher/Tyne’s way, because it could lead to tragedy.”

“You’re speaking hogwash—”

“It didn’t lead to tragedy?” Oliver asked.

“We had nothing to do with anyone’s death,” Shockley protested.

Marge said, “When can we talk to Leonard’s co-workers?”

“I’ll try to get clearance for you by tomorrow. After I’ve broken the news to them.”

“And they’re too scared to talk.”

Shockley said, “You don’t have warrants, you may not trample over our rights—”

“Gettin’ kinda feisty, sir,” Oliver said.

“Get out of here!”

“You’re not being very civic-minded—”

“Get out of here before I have you thrown out by security!” Shockley reached for the phone.

Oliver grinned. “I don’t think he’s bluffing, Detective Dunn.”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Marge saluted him. “Thanks for your time.”