For a moment I thought I really had gone crazy, for standing in the doorway with a nonchalant look of boredom on his face was Jack Kerman. He was wearing a tropical white suit, horn spectacles, and out of his breast pocket a yellow and red silk handkerchief flopped in the best traditions of the dandy.
I gave a start that nearly upset the bed. Luckily Salzer was busying himself with my medical chart and didn’t notice. Kerman looked woodenly at me, lifted one eyebrow and said to Salzer, “Who is this man, Doctor? He looks well enough.”
“This is Edmund Seabright,” Salzer told him. His cold face lit up with a smile and he reminded me of Santa Claus about to hand out a toy to a good child. “He has only recently come to us.” He handed the medical chart to Kerman. “Perhaps you would be interested to see this. It speaks for itself.”
Kerman adjusted his horn spectacles and squinted at the chart. I had an idea he couldn’t see well in them, and knowing him, guessed he had borrowed them from someone.
“Oh, yes,” he said, pursing his lips. “Interesting. I suppose it’s all right to have a word with him?”
“Why, certainly,” Salzer said, and moved to my bed.
Kerman joined him and they both stared at me. I stared back, concentrating on Salzer, knowing if I looked at Kerman I would probably let the cat out of the bag.
“This is Mr. Strang,” Salzer said to me. “He writes books on nervous diseases.” He smiled at Kerman. “Mr. Seabright imagines he is a famous detective. Don’t you, Mr. Seabright?”
“Sure,” I said. “I am a detective. I’ve discovered Anona Freedlander is right here on this floor, and Nurse Gurney is dead and her hotly has been hidden somewhere in the desert by your wife. How’s that for detection?”
Salzer’s kind, sad smile embraced Kerman.