The Oath

Hardy didn't know how much of it was true, how much was a function of Markham's rationalizations to his mistress so that he could appear sensitive and caring. One thing was sure, though-A

"Did Tim talk to him?" Hardy asked. "Give him any kind of warning?"

"Sure. Brendan knew, I think, that Tim had made up his mind to let him go. It was just a question of the timing. Tim couldn't hide that from him if he wanted to, I don't think. If that's what you're asking."

And suddenly, Hardy was thinking that Driscoll was at least some kind of suspect. "How did he feel about Carla?"

"You mean would he kill her? And the kids? What for?"

"That's my question."

She was still thinking about her answer when Kensing had one. "If he felt that Tim was personally dumping him, I could see him wanting to wipe out any trace of him. The whole family."

But this was San Francisco. Hardy had to ask the question. "And you're convinced, A

"Tim wasn't gay," A

Which, Hardy knew, did not make it a certainty by any means.

Eric spoke up again. "But if Brendan kills Tim, he's unemployed."

"But he's not fired, is he? He's the loyal and hardworking executive assistant up until the very end. He gets another job in fifteen minutes." Another thought occurred to Hardy, another tack. "When you threw him out of the ICU, where did he go?"

"I don't know. Off the floor, anyway." There must have been very little pleasure in the original situation, but Kensing relished something about the memory of it. "He didn't seem to believe that I could do that to him. Order him out of there. He found out."

"And you're sure he didn't return before the code blue?"

"I don't think he did. I can't say for sure. I told you, I was busy out in the hall."

"But he was definitely still in the hospital, at least."

"Oh yeah. After Tim died…" He sighed again. "He didn't take it well. It was pathetic, in fact. Embarrassing."

Hardy checked his watch. He had forty-five minutes before he needed to be home and he didn't want to start something he couldn't finish. But putting these two together was turning out very well, and A

"Let me guess," Kensing said. "Sinustop?"

A

"It's a new hay fever pill, isn't it?" Hardy had a vague memory. "But there was some problem with it?"

"Not for most people," Kensing said. "Some people, though, developed the unfortunate side effect of death. This was after the reps dumped thousands of samples on us and the directive came down from the corporate office-"

"From Dr. Ross," A

"If you say so." Kensing's look told Hardy he wasn't buying that. "Anyway," he continued, "this stuff was so inexpensive and miraculous that we were strongly urged to prescribe it to all of our patients with any and all allergy symptoms. You know about samples?"

"Not enough," Hardy replied. "Tell me."

"Well, any new drug comes out, their reps go out and try to get doctors to give them to patients for free. The idea, of course, is brand-name recognition. The stuff works, it's on the formulary, we prescribe it. Bingo, a wonder drug is born. But the sample campaign for Sinustop was just unbelievable. Nationwide, they must have given away a billion pills."

"And this was unusual?"

Kensing nodded soberly. "The numbers were unusual, yes."

"So what was the problem between Markham and Ross?" Hardy asked.

A

"But he didn't?"

A

"So they went at it?"

Kensing seemed jolted out of his silence. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. You're not saying Tim was the good guy here, I hope?"

She faced him with an angry and pitiless look. "What's he supposed to do, Eric? Tell me that."

Hardy didn't want to let any more friction develop. Kensing had enough reasons to hate Markham on his own-he wasn't going to change his mind because maybe Tim had been a better CEO than he'd thought. "So how long had Tim and Ross been together?"

"They were two of the founders." She shrugged. "You could look it up.

"And recently they'd had more than one of these Sinustop-type fights?"

She frowned. "A few. Tim thought Ross's decisions weren't good medicine. He believed we had to keep delivering a good product-"

"Product," Eric said, snorting. "I like that."

Hardy ignored the interruption. "But then with Sinustop, things got worse? What finally happened?"

"Well, Ross got his way. They didn't pull the samples-"

Kensing supplied the ending. "And sixteen other people died around the country. Two of them with Parnassus."

In the telling, Hardy had come to remember the scandal clearly now. But although it had been prominent in the news, he didn't recall that Parnassus had been any part of it, and he said as much.

A

Kensing was shaking his head. "Not." He turned to Hardy. "Tim released a statement that the two patients who had died had taken samples they'd gotten here from before the first death had been reported-apparently this was true-and that we'd recalled all the samples and taken Sinustop off the formulary at the first indication of any problem. Not true. And if you call that covering for Ross…"

"That's what he did," A

Hardy jumped in before the smoldering anger in the room could erupt again. "Okay, good," he said. "That's the kind of thing I want you both to keep thinking about." He turned to each of them in turn. But tension remained high.

He was afraid to push his luck any further. Standing, he kept up his patter to keep them from each other. "I'm afraid I've got another appointment. Mrs. Kensing, thanks for your time. We're settled in terms of the kids, right? All good there? Eric, I'd like a few words with you on our way out. I'll wait while you tell your children good night."

"Honey, I'm home!" Ricky Ricardo he wasn't, but for years early in their marriage, Hardy had come through the front door with his dead-on imitation. He'd made it with four minutes to spare by his watch, and considering the ever-escalating demands of the case that had been consuming his hours, he felt he'd done well.

All lanky arms and legs, Rebecca came flying down the hallway. "Daddy! I'm so glad you're home." She jumped at him and knocked him back, but he held on and gave her a spin.

In the dining room, the table was set. Fra

"I'll get better, I promise."

They shared a chaste married kiss. Vincent, hanging back by the family room, said, "Gross."

So the two adults made eye contact and suddenly had their arms around each other, making out like teenagers. He picked Fra