Free Tony Dunbar - Tubby Dubonnet 03 - Trick Question by Tony Dunbar

which was where Cherrylynn had said he was to meet Dr. Swincter at noon.
    A woman wearing a green shirt and baggy pants, with puffs of paper around her hair and shoes, shuffled around the corner.
    “Can you tell me where Dr. Swincter’s lab is?”
    “At the end of the hall, the door on the right,” she told him, without turning her head or slowing down.
    The door to Lab 3 also had a sign on it that read: NO ADMITTANCE. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. There was a window maybe ten inches square at eye level, but it was covered from the inside with a piece of yellowing notebook paper.
    It slid open suddenly and a slim man wearing a tan suit, looking self-assured and untroubled, stepped into the hall.
    “Excuse me,” “Pardon me,” he and Tubby mumbled to each other while they did a clumsy dance; then the man walked swiftly away, leaving a breeze of cologne.
    Purple Musk? Tubby guessed, remembering his daughters’ birthday gifts, intended to improve him, neglected on his dresser at home.
    He pushed the shiny handle tentatively and peeked around the edge of the door. He saw white walls, stacks of gray metal cages, and long counters topped with bright stainless steel. At the center counter, on a stool, a short man sat with his head in his hands.
    “Pardon me,” Tubby called, and stepped in through the doorway.
    The man looked startled, as if not many people came in here, and Tubby saw a look of irritation cross a strained and very businesslike face.
    “Yes?” the man said, raising one bushy black eyebrow in a manner designed to dismiss orderlies and civilians.
    “Excuse me,” Tubby said. “I’m looking for Dr. Swincter.”
    “That’s me,” the doctor said, and patted the pockets of his lab coat.
    “Hi, I’m Tubby Dubonnet. You talked to my secretary.”
    “Oh, yes,” the doctor said resentfully. “I have so little time…” he began, but he was distracted when the door behind him whooshed open again. A dark-haired woman, also wearing the standard white uniform of the hospital officer corps, entered the lab.
    “Excuse me, Trina,” Swincter said. “This man is the lawyer for the fellow who killed Whitney. I’ll be a little while.”
    She looked Tubby over carefully as he offered her his hand.
    “Trina Tessier,” she said, and gave his fingers a quick touch. “Come to my office when you’re finished,” she told Swincter, and was on her way out the door. A bit of red skirt flew below her white coat, and there was a quick flash of pale ankle.
    Tubby watched Swincter take in the view.
    “Thanks for seeing me,” he said, breaking the doctor’s reverie.
    “Oh, sure. I guess you’re trying to get Cletus off.”
    “Well, I’m trying to find out what happened. Do you know Cletus well?”
    “Seen him around.” Dr. Swincter had a funny way of talking, like scissors neatly trimmed every word. And yet his soft lips barely moved. But his blue eyes jumped around the room. Tubby would have judged him to be more than forty-five years old had he not known him to be about a decade younger.
    “And of course you knew Dr. Valentine.”
    “He and I worked together for almost three years.”
    “I don’t know very much about what kind of work Dr. Valentine did. Some sort of research on disease prevention?”
    Dr. Swincter looked like he was being confronted with a soda-slurping seven-year-old on a field trip.
    “A little more complicated than that, actually. It has to do with isolating viruses or toxins, and developing medicines or antidotes to treat them.”
    “How is the research funded?”
    “Why is that any of your business?”
    “Gosh, Doctor, I don’t know. I’ve got a man charged with murder who may be executed with an injection of an extremely deadly toxin unless I can cast doubt on his guilt. I’m starting with a clean slate – just looking for information. Have you got any reason to believe that Cletus Busters did it and that I’m just wasting my time?”
    “The police arrested him, didn’t