Berger rubbed his eyes. “What do you need from me? I told the other detective, Wooster or Werber—”

“Webster.”

“That’s it. Mr. Southern Boy. I told him that my wife and I were at a dinner theater in Tustin. As soon as I heard the news, I came rushing back. What else do you need from me?”

“I’m just trying to get a timetable for Dr. Sparks—”

“I saw Dr. Sparks leave with Dr. Decameron around a quarter to eight. Which means these questions are best directed to Dr. Decameron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a hospital to run.”

He started to walk away. Decker said, “Lucky for New Chris that they found someone to fill Dr. Sparks’s shoes. And so fast.”

Berger stopped, pivoted around. “Are you being snide?”

“No.” Decker’s face was flat. “Just that everyone keeps saying Sparks is a one-of-a-kind. It’s fortunate that he had you on his team to take over in this crisis.”

Berger’s cheeks turned crimson. “I’m not saying I’m Dr. Sparks, sir. I’m just saying there are patients here and someone has to take care of them.”

“Absolutely,” Decker agreed. “Dr. Decameron said you were a fine surgeon.”

Berger stared at him. “He said that, did he?”

“He did.”

“Well, I’ll have to thank him for the vote of confidence. Now if you’ll excuse—”

“Will you also take over the FDA trials of Curedon, Dr. Berger?”

Berger pursed his lips. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far in advance.”

“I was just wondering if Curedon was more Dr. Decameron’s bailiwick.”

“Not at all—”

“Being as Dr. Decameron…and Dr. Fulton for that matter…are primarily researchers. And you’re primarily a practicing surgeon—”

“You can stop right here, Lieutenant.” Berger held out his palm. “You’ve got some facts turned around and right now, I don’t have time to correct your wrong impressions.”

“When will you have time?” Decker asked. “Don’t want to go around with a wrong impression. Might cause me to jump to wrong conclusions.”

Berger tossed Decker a mean smile. “I’ve got work to do. If you come back…say a half hour before my six o’clock rounds, I’ll talk to you.”

Decker looked at his watch. Three-fifteen A.M. Berger wasn’t the only one with work to do. “Five-thirty, it is.” He slipped on his jacket, bade the doctor a good night.

Bunking down at Devonshire made infinitely more sense than waking up Rina. At his desk, Decker left a message on their answering machine, telling his wife that he loved her and that he’d call in the morning.