Jordan sat bolt upright and his eyes nervously darted around the room. He knew Cerino had to be close, probably in the holding area at that moment. And that meant that the tall gaunt fellow would be around someplace. Cerino had insisted on it, and the administration had agreed. Jordan did not relish the idea of Cerino’s man seeing him with Lou Soldano. He didn’t want to be forced to explain it to Cerino.
“Certain facts have come up,” Lou continued. “I’m hoping you might have some explanations.”
“I have another operation,” Jordan said. He started to get up.
“Sit down, Doctor,” Lou said. “I only want a minute of your time. At least at the moment. We’ve been puzzling over five recent homicides which we have reason to believe were done by the same person or persons, and the only way we have been able to associate them so far, other than the manner in which they were killed, is that they were your patients. Naturally we’d like to ask you if you have any idea why this has happened.”
“I’d just been informed about it an hour ago,” Jordan said nervously. “I haven’t the slightest idea why. But I can tell you there is no way that it could involve me.”
“So we can assume they have all paid their bills?” Lou asked.
“Under the circumstances, Lieutenant,” Jordan snapped, “I don’t think that is a very funny comment.”
“Excuse my black humor,” Lou said. “But guessing how much that office of yours had to cost and knowing you have a limo—”
“I don’t have to talk with you if I don’t want to,” Jordan said, interrupting Lou and again motioning to get up.
“You don’t have to talk with me now,” Lou said. “That’s true. But you’d have to talk with me eventually, so you might as well try to cooperate. After all, this is one hell of a serious situation.”
Jordan sat back. “What do you want from me? I don’t have anything to add to what you already know. I’m sure you know much more than I.”
“Tell me about Martha Goldburg, Steven Vivonetto, Janice Singleton, Henriette Kaufman, and Dwight Sorenson.”
“They were patients of mine,” Jordan said.
“What were their diagnoses?” Lou asked. He took out his pad and pencil.
“I can’t tell you that,” Jordan said. “That’s privileged information. And don’t cite my mentioning the Cerino case to Dr. Montgomery as a precedent. I made a mistake talking about him.”
“I’ll be able to get the information from the families,” Lou said. “Why don’t you just make it easy for me?”
“It’s up to the families to tell you if they so choose,” Jordan said. “I am not at liberty to divulge that information.”
“OK,” Lou said. “Then let’s talk generalities. Did all these people have the same diagnosis?”
“No,” Jordan said.
“They didn’t?” Lou questioned. He visibly sagged. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Jordan said.
Lou looked down at his blank pad and thought for a moment. Raising his eyes he asked: “Were these patients related in some unlikely way? For example, were they customarily seen on the same day, anything like that?”
“No,” Jordan said.
“Could their records have been kept together for some reason?”
“No, my records are alphabetical.”
“Could any of these patients have been seen on the same day as Cerino?”
“That I can’t say,” Jordan admitted. “But I can tell you this. When Mr. Cerino came to see me, he never saw any other patient nor did any other patient see him.”
“Are you sure of that?” Lou asked.
“Positive,” Jordan said.
The intercom connecting the surgical lounge to the OR crackled to life. One of the OR nurses told Jordan that his patient was in the room waiting for him.
Jordan got to his feet. Lou did the same.
“I’ve got surgery,” Jordan said.
“OK,” Lou said. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”
Lou put on his hat and walked out of the surgical lounge.
Jordan followed him to the door and watched as Lou continued down the long hallway to the main hospital elevators. He watched as Lou pushed the button, waited, then boarded and disappeared from view.