Esteban had been staring at the floor. Now he looked up into my eyes. It was a moment of unexpected and excruciating intimacy. "I can see yours, Mongo," he whispered.
We stared at each other for a few moments. "Wait a minute," I said at last. "I'll be right back."
Garth was in the squad room having coffee. He saw me at the door, got up and came over. "What's up, brother?" he asked. "You look pale."
"How's the Morales investigation going?"
He shrugged. "It's. .. going," he said, sounding puzzled. "What can I tell you? I said we were looking into it. Believe it or not, I have a few other cases on my hands."
"You still think he's guilty, don't you?"
"Why should I have changed my opinion?"
"Have you seriously considered any other suspects?"
"Who would you suggest? The man was kneeling there with blood all over his hands and the front of his shirt."
"You mean Esteban slashed Samuels' throat, walked away to drop the knife in a vial of acid, then came back to kneel beside the body?"
"Why not? He may have been sorry he did it, or maybe he was just checking to make sure he'd done the job right. Who else besides Morales and Jordon knew that Samuels was going to be in the office complex that night?"
"I don't know, and neither do you. Maybe Jordon did it."
"Jordon? Come on, Mongo. It was Samuels' practice that Jordon bought into. Would he be likely to kill the goose that laid the golden proverbial?"
"What about the patients that Esteban shared with the two doctors? Maybe one of them had a motive for killing Samuels. If you had that list, you could at least verify whether or not Morales ever gave drugs to any of the people on it."
"I can't get the names of those patients, Mongo, and you know it. It's privileged information."
"Well, you could at least ask Jordon to give the names to you."
"I did ask, and he won't. He's afraid the people would be embarrassed, and there'd be lawsuits. He's probably right."
It meant I was going to be forced to do something I abhorred; but I was rapidly running out of time and options. Besides, the most important thing was that Garth would know what I was doing was abhorrent-and it was essential that I make Garth a believer.
"Will you come back with me to Esteban's cell for a few minutes?" I asked. "I want to try a little experiment, and I need a witness."
"I'm on my way out, Mongo," Garth said irritably. "I've got police business."
"This is police business. Come on, Garth, Give me ten minutes."
He hesitated, then gestured impatiently for me to lead the way.
Esteban glanced up as Garth and I entered the cell. His eyes were bright with curiosity. "Esteban," I said, "I'd like the Lieutenant to hear the rest of our conversation." Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Garth had leaned his tall, gaunt frame against the bars on the opposite side of the cell and was tapping his foot rhythmically-a sure sign of impatience. "Esteban," I continued quickly, "will you tell the Lieutenant what a human 'aura' is?"
Esteban described the aura, and I followed up by describing the Kirlian photographs Janet had shown me-what they were, and what they purported to show. Garth's foot continued its relentless tapping. Once he glanced at his watch.
"Esteban," I said, "what does the Lieutenant's aura look like?"
"The Lieutenant looks fine," the old man said, puzzled.
"What about me?"
Esteban abruptly shook his head and dropped his gaze.
The foot tapping behind me had stopped. Suddenly Garth was beside me, gripping my arm. "Mongo, what the hell is this all about?"
"Just listen!" I rasped. "Esteban, can you see my aura? Damn it! If you can, say so! I may be able to help you, but you have to do as I ask!"
Esteban slowly raised his head. His brown eyes were moist, filled with compassion. "Why do you want me to say it, Mongo? You know, and I cannot help you."
Garth gripped my arm even tighter. I pulled away from him. "Tell me what it is you see, Esteban," I said in a hoarse whisper.
"You are dying, Mongo."
"You have to tell me more!" I snapped. "Be more specific!"
"Your organs are like your body, Mongo; twisted. . dwarfed. They are not normal. You have a very strong will and life force, but that is not enough. You are still dying."
"Tell me how many years I have left," I said, swallowing hard. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. "The Lieutenant and I know; let's see if you know."
"Maybe four, five years," Esteban said resignedly. "I do not know for sure. Why do you make me say these things?"
The healer and I stared at each other, our gazes locked. I felt light-headed, even more nauseated. There was no satisfaction in the other man's face-only sorrow. Whatever Morales did, I thought, it was for real. Janet Monroe and Yvonne Mercado were right.
I tore my gaze away from Esteban and spun around to face Garth. I'd caught him at a bad moment; his face was twisted, his eyes full of pain. My brother was rather fond of me.
"Well, brother?" I asked, hoping I had my smile on straight. "It's true that anyone might know that dwarfs aren't long-lived, but how does Mr. Morales' opinion stack up against the medical authorities'?"
Garth's voice was cracked and hollow. "Your clients get a lot for their money, Mongo." He swallowed, looked away. "I'm impressed, sure; but it doesn't prove anything."
"Was an autopsy performed on Samuels?"
"I don't know," Garth said distantly. "Cause of death was obvious. If there was an autopsy, the report's probably been filed away by now."
"Well, check it out. If Esteban's right, Samuels' body was riddled with cancer. He only had a few more months to live, and Esteban knew that. Since Esteban knew Samuels was going to die anyway, why kill him? This man just doesn't have that kind of passion."
"It still doesn't prove anything, Mongo," Garth said hoarsely. "I wish it did."
"It should be enough to raise reasonable doubt that Esteban did it. Look, all I'm trying to do is light some fires under the investigation. Will you do some more checking?"
Garth looked over at Esteban. "I'll have another talk with Jordon about that list of patients." He looked back at me, smiled thinly. "You all right, brother?"
"Of course I'm all right. Hell, we're all dying, aren't we?" My laugh turned sharp and bitter. "When you've been dying as long as I have, you get used to it. Hey, I want to use your phone to make a long-distance call. I'll charge it to my home phone-okay?"
"I'll clear it with the switchboard." Garth nodded curtly, seemed to hesitate, then abruptly turned and walked out of the cell.
Esteban was still staring at me. "I am sorry, Mongo," he said quietly.
"Tell me about Dr. Jordon," I said absently, struggling to get my mind back on business. "You got on well together, didn't you?"
He hesitated a moment, then said, "Si. We got along fine. It was Dr. Jordon who persuaded Dr. Samuels to take part in the experiment."
There was something in Esteban's voice that didn't quite ring true, and I spoke to that. "Do you like Jordon personally?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I like Dr. Jordon fine. But it was hard to work with his patients. I feel sorry for him. I think he tries very hard, but not everybody should be a doctor."
"Really? Are you saying that Dr. Jordon isn't a good doctor?"
Esteban's eyes clouded. "I am not saying that, Mongo. It is not my place to say that. I think Dr. Jordon is a fine man. He has been very good to me. He tries hard to be a good doctor."