faculty adviser is.”
“Oh, sure. Her name, please.”
“Dawn Herbert.”
No reaction. “What department is she in?”
“Public Health.”
The smile broadened. “This is the School of Public Health, Doctor. We
have several departments, each with its own faculty.” She lifted a
brochure from a stack near my elbow, opened it and pointed to the table
of contents.
DEPARTMENTS OF THE SCHOOL BIOSTATISTICS
COMMUNITY HEALTH SCIENCES
ENVIRONMENTAL HEALTH SCIENCES
ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENCE AND ENGINEERING EPIDEMIOLOGY HEALTH SERVICES
Thinking of the kind of work Ashmore had done, I said, “Either
Biostatistics or Epidemiology.”
She went to the files and pulled down a blue fabric loose-leaf
folder.
The spine was lettered BIOSTAT.
“Yes, here we go. She’s in the Ph.D. program in Biostat and her
adviser’s Dr. Yanosh.”
“Where can I find Dr. Yanosh?”
“One floor down-office B-three-forty-five. Would you like me to call
and see if she’s in?”
“Please.”
She picked up a phone and punched an extension. “Dr. Yanosh?
Hi. Merilee here. There’s a doctor from some hospital wanting to talk
to you about one of your students. . . Dawn Herbert. . . Oh Sure.”
Frowning. “What was your name again, sir?”
“Delaware. From Western Pediatric Medical Center.”
She repeated that into the receiver. “Yes, of course, Dr. Yanosh.”
Could I see some identification, please, Dr. Delaware>” Out came the faculty card again.
“Yes, he does, Dr. Yanosh.” Spelling my name. “Okay, Doctor, I’ll
tell him.”
Hanging up, she said, “She doesn’t have much time but she can see you
right now.” Sounding angry.
As I opened the door, she said, “She was murdered’?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“That’s really ugly.”
There was an elevator just past the office, next to a darkened lecture
hall. I rode it down one flight. B-345 was a few doors to the left.
Closed and locked. A slide-in sign said ALICEJANOS, M.1:H PH.D.
I knocked. Between the first and second raps a voice said, “One
minute.”
Heel-clicks. The door opened. A woman in her fifties said, “Dr.
Delaware.”
I held out my hand. She took it, gave an abrupt shake, and let go.
She was short, plump, blond, bubble-coiffed, and expertly made up and
wore a red-and-white dress that had been tailored for her. Red shoes,
matching nails, gold jewelry. Her face was small and attractive in a
chipmunkish way; when she was young she’d probably been the cutest girl
in school.
“Come in, please.” European accent. The intellectual Gabor sister.
I stepped into the office. She left the door open and came in after
me. The room was pin-neat, minimally furnished, scented with perfume,
and hung with art posters in chromium frames. Miro and Albers and
Stella and one that commemorated a Gwathmey-Siegel exhibit at the
Boston Museum.
An open box of chocolate truffles sat on a round glass table. Next to
it was a sprig of mint. On a stand perpendicular to the desk were a
computer and a printer, each sheathed with a zippered cover. Atop the
printer was a red leather designer purse. The desk was universityissue
metal, prettified with a diagonally set lace coverlet, a
floralpatterned Limoges blotter, and family photos. Big family.
Albert Einstein look-alike husband and five good-looking, college-age
kids.
She sat close to the chocolate and crossed her legs at the ankles. I
faced her. Her calves were ballet-thick.
“You are a physician?”
“Psychologist.”
And what connection do you have to Ms. Herbert?”
“I’m consulting on a case at the hospital. Dawn obtained a medical
chart belonging to the patient’s sibling and never returned it.
I thought she might have left it here.”
“This patient’s name?”
When I hesitated, she said, “I can’t very well answer your question
without knowing what I’m looking for.”
“Jones.”
“Charles Lyman Jones the Fourth?”
Surprised, I said, “You have it?”
“No. But you are the second person who’s come asking for it. Is there
a genetic issue at stake that makes this so urgent? Sibling tissue
typing or something like that?”
“It’s a complex case,” I said.
She recrossed her legs. “The first person didn’t give me an adequate
explanation either.”
“Who was that?”
She gave me an analytic look and sat back in her chair. “Forgive me,
Doctor, but I’d appreciate seeing the identification you just showed
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