Decameron said, “Azor was livid when Bram took his orders. First, Bram had the nerve to convert from Azor’s strict Fundamentalist Church to Catholicism without asking Daddy’s permission. And then when he became a priest…well, what can I say? The truth hurts.”

“What truth?” Heather said.

“Darling, what do you think?” Decameron’s eyes roved between Oliver and Marge. “Bram is clearly gay—”

“What are you talking about?” Heather said.

“The whole family’s in heavy denial. Because to Azor, et al., homosexuality is still an abomination before the Lord. He couldn’t deal with it—his beloved son being a faggot.”

“Dr. Decameron, there’s no reason to use pejoratives,” Marge said.

“Oh come, come. Surely you can tell I’m talking from personal experience. Yes, Azor can deal with gays like me on a professional level. Just like he can deal with Jews like Myron Berger. But between me and these walls, I’m sure he thought of both of us as hopeless sinners.”

“I think you’re wrong!” Heather exclaimed. “And what does it have to do with poor Dr. Sparks being murdered?”

“I’m just giving them background, Heather.”

“When did he receive this call from Paul?” Oliver said.

“About seven-thirty.”

“Was he upset when he came back to the meeting?”

“Well, he was upset with me. But he didn’t seem upset by the call.”

“What’s this project you’re working on?” Oliver asked. “This Curedon?”

“So you know about Curedon.” Decameron squinted at Heather. “We’ve been talking, haven’t we.”

Marge said, “Dr. Decameron—”

“All right, all right. What do you know about Curedon?”

Oliver said, “It’s an antirejection drug, whatever that means.”

“You know what Azor Sparks is noted for, don’t you?”

“Heart transplants,” Marge said.

“Yes.” Decameron looked upward. “Heart transplants. The man is…was one of the greatest surgeons ever to land on our fair planet. Even I can’t joke away his genius.” He gazed at Marge. “Because Azor was a genius in every sense of the word. Terrible. For someone to cut him down…and with his death, dies all his skill and knowledge. Too bad Azor didn’t live long enough to set up a protocol for a brain transplant.”

Decameron cocked a hip.

“Now that might have been interesting. His brain in my body.”

“That would have been obscene!” Heather muttered.

Decameron rolled his eyes. “Curedon was just one of Azor’s many contributions to medical science. One in which I was privileged enough to participate. May I sit?”

Marge pointed to an empty upholstered chair. “Please.”

Decameron sat. “How to explain this.” He thought. “Whenever a transplant of any kind is effected, the human body has a natural tendency to reject it.”

Oliver said, “I’m lost.”