"Don't know much about Christy. He's a pilot, and pretty close-mouthed. Spends most of his time between trips in the bosom of his family, so to speak. Which is maybe understandable, because he's got a wife that is absolutely—"
"Skip that junk," said Garcia toughly. "The boss wants facts."
"Keep out of this, you," said Monk. He smiled humorlessly at Horner. "What about Christy's wife?"
"Well, she's—I mean, she's a looker, understand? A real beauty. Only from what I heard around the base, she's a groundworm's delight, if you know what I mean—"
"I don't know what you mean," said Monk patiently.
"Well, with her husband away six months out of every year, and a swell-lookin' doll like that ... Figure it out for yourself."
Monk grunted. "I'll keep it in mind," he said. "Now how about this fellow Forsch?"
"Maybe there's something there," said Horner. "He's a doctor, too. Handles most of the routine physicals. But I heard a rumor about some pretty unethical practices he was mixed up in before he took this job. There may be nothing to it, but if you could look into it—"
"I will," said Monk abruptly. He handed the paper over to the Spacelane employee. "Anybody else here you want to tell me about?"
Horner looked over the list.