“So they just sit here and you measure them?” said Milo.
“Initially, we tell them they’re here for marketing research and they fill out attitude surveys. It takes ten minutes on average, and we leave them in here for twenty-five.”
“Fifteen extra to get acquainted with the confederate.”
“If they so choose,” said Dugger.
“How many do?”
“I can’t give you a precise number, but people do tend to be social.” I watched his lips, listened to his words for import. Flat tone, no commentary implied or expressed. Maybe that said plenty.
Milo walked around the room, seemed to fill it with his bulk. Running his hand along a wall, he said, “No one-way mirrors?”
Dugger smiled. “Too obvious. Everyone watches TV.”
“Set me straight on procedure, Doctor,” said Milo. “How do you ensure that the subjects and the confederates don’t meet after the experiment’s over?”
“The subject leaves the room before the confederate. While the subject is debriefed, the confederate is moved to a private waiting area—behind the main office. And we monitor subjects’ exits—walk them out, watch them drive away. There’s simply no opportunity for subsequent contact.”
“And there’s no one—a loose cannon, a subject who resented being deceived—who might’ve wanted to harm Lauren?”
“No one,” said Dugger. “We prescreen with a basic test of psycho-pathology.”
“You don’t like abnormal psychology but you recognize its worth.”
Dugger twisted his collar. “As a tool.”
Milo paced some more, scanned the ceiling. He stopped, pointed to a small metal disc in the corner. “Lens cover? You film them?”
“We’re set up for video and audio recording. It’s an option.”
“Do you keep the tapes?”
“No, we transcribe the data numerically, then reuse the tapes,” said Dugger.
“Nothing you’d want to hold on to?”
“It’s a quantitative study. The main findings are the informational bits that transmit from the grids to our hard drives. As well as the confederates’ observations.”
“The confederates report back to you?”
“We interview them.”
“About what?”
Dugger’s lips tightened. “Qualitative data—variables that can’t be numericized.”
“Weird behavior?”
“No, no—nuances. Observational impressions. Measures the grids can’t pick up.”
“And you have no interest in abnormality.” Dugger pressed himself against the wall. “I really don’t see the need to discuss my research interests.”
“The fact that Lauren was murdered—”
“Sickens me. Just knowing someone, who’s been murdered sickens me, but—”
“How well did you know her, Doctor?”
Dugger stepped away from the wall. His eyes rose to the ceiling. “Look, I know what you’re after, and you couldn’t be further off the mark. I told you the first time, I never slept with Lauren. The idea is ridiculous and disgusting.”
Milo’s shoulders bunched like a bull’s as he stepped closer to Dugger. Dugger’s hands rose protectively, but Milo stopped several feet away. “Disgusting? A beautiful girl like Lauren? What’s disgusting about sleeping with a beautiful girl?”
Once again sweat beaded Dugger’s upper lip. “Nothing. I didn’t mean it in that sense. She was—a lovely girl. It just wasn’t like that. She was an employee. It’s called professionalism.”
“An employee with whom you had dinner, several times.”
“Jesus,” said Dugger. “If I’d have known that would set you off, I’d never have mentioned it. We talked about psychology, her career plans. That’s it.”
“Beautiful girls aren’t your thing either?”
Dugger’s hands lowered, curled into fists, opened slowly. He smiled, brushed dandruff from his sweater. “As a matter of fact they’re not. Per se. I’m sure you’re constructed differently, but external beauty means very little to me. Now please leave—I insist you leave.”
“Well,” said Milo, remaining in place. “If you insist.”
“Oh, come on,” said Dugger. “Why does this have to be adversarial? I realize it’s an occupational hazard, but straighten your sights. Lauren deserves that.”
His head dropped, and he covered his eyes. But I saw what he was trying to conceal. The glisten of tears.
Before we got back in the car we stopped at the Chinese restaurant, got some egg rolls and wontons to go, showed the proprietors Lauren’s picture. “Yes,” said the cook, in perfect English. “She came in here a few times. Chicken fried rice to go.”
“Alone?”
“Always alone. Why?”
“Routine investigation,” said Milo. “What about Dr. Dugger? From next door.”