Free A Caduceus is for Killing by Diana Kirk Page A

almost uncontrollable urge to squeeze the cold, clammy appendage as hard as he could. Maybe that would get some emotion out of the academic.
    Yet, everyone he'd interviewed talked favorably of Hardwyn. In fact, he was thought to be somewhat of a miracle worker when it came to getting necessary equipment, funds, or anything else needed to run the university.
    "If you want anything at all, no matter what it is, just ask Hardwyn," one young researcher had told him. Pearson thought he walked on water, so he must have a few good points. Krastowitcz chalked his negative response up to preconditioned prejudice, which was ludicrous of course. He wasn't prejudiced. He hated everyone equally.
    "How do you do, Sergeant?" Hardwyn said smoothly. "Please, sit down. What can I do for you?"
    "Are you aware of any of the details regarding Milton Graf-ton's death, Doctor?"
    "Not precisely, but I've had a full phone report from Captain Straley."
    Krastowitcz bet he had. What a name dropper.
    "Right now, I'm trying to talk to everyone who knew or had contact with him in the last forty-eight hours."
    "Of course."
    "I'm willing to consider anything. Even a slight acquaintance. I understand you knew him during his training and were instrumental in his coming to Dorlynd. Can you provide me with a list of people he was closely associated with?"
    "Let's see." Hardwyn leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his coarse gray hair. "That may take me some time. Are you looking for those who had a grudge against him?"
    "Well, I--"
     "The list is long. It would take me less time to tell you about those who liked him."
    "Is that so?" Krastowitcz leaned forward. "Go ahead, Dr. Hardwyn, take all the time you need, I'm all ears."
    "Dr. McNaughton, Tom? Yes, Tom McNaughton. He was suspended last week for cocaine usage."
    "How did you know that?"
    "Dr. Grafton informed me of his actions prior to the suspension. As Dean, I'm told of all dealings involving medical education for the faculty. I'm also apprised of everything that goes on at the Medical Center, Sergeant. . . everything."
    Krastowitcz narrowed his eyes at the overbearing egotist. "Amazing," he said, meaning exactly the opposite. "So, who killed him?"
    Hardwyn seemed to ignore the remark and droned on.
    "There were numerous people who hated Milton Grafton. From students to disgruntled residents. Several faculty members, also, because he either blocked their promotions or cut their salaries. I can't think of anyone else."
    "Try. Even the slightest disagreement."
    Hardwyn sat for a moment and glared down at his hands.
    "I don't know about this. It was just a misunderstanding."
    "What?"
    "Well," Hardwyn fumbled at his desk and folded his hands together. "There was a problem with Dr. Pearson's faculty appointment. In his letter of recommendation, Dr. Grafton suggested it would be in her best interests if she had another year of research fellowship training at another institution."
    "What's that mean?"
    "Basically, Sergeant, Grafton blocked the faculty appointment of his chief resident, Dr. Pearson. I believe you were talking to her earlier."
    "Why?"
    "After a year of working with her, he felt she was too immature for advancement. I don't know why. She doesn't appear to be that way. But you couldn't figure Milton. He had his own reasons for everything."
    "Go on."
    "Well, she became quite upset--verbally abusive. Threatening."
    The urge for a cigarette nagged at him. How could he be so wrong about her? His instincts hadn't let him down before. He'd run a record check on her for sure, now. "What kind of threats?"
    "Not the kind you're thinking of," Hardwyn rushed to say. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply--"
    "What kind of threats?" Was he in on it, too?
    "She