Fatal Reaction

actually better than sleep. Thinking about the day ahead I was glad I had a meeting with Tom Galloway later that morning. We were set to go over the interrogatories on the new Serezine suit—a task I hoped would be consuming enough that I wouldn’t be able to worry too much about how our counterproposal was being received.
    With the fifteen-hour time difference between Tokyo and Chicago, it was unlikely we would hear back from Takisawa that day. I was convinced a quick response was more likely to be negative and so I found myself actually hoping for a delay. Still, with so much on the line, I was grateful to have something else to occupy my mind— even if it was a wrongful-death suit.
     
    When Tom arrived, I ushered him into the small conference room adjacent to Stephen’s office. Somehow it seemed unfair to ask him to work in Danny’s old office with all its painful associations. I expected, with the funeral behind us, that Tom would have seemed easier in my company. But as we settled into our chairs he seemed if anything even more ill at ease. I hoped he wasn’t about to unload some new bombshell about the Serezine suits. With our counterproposal in Takisawa’s court and without sleep, my nerves were already singing like high-voltage wire.
    “I think I owe you an apology,” he said, like a little boy coming clean in the principal’s office. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he was speaking out of genuine contrition or trying to salvage his chances with the partnership committee. “When I stormed into your office the other morning I acted like a real jerk. I realized that at the funeral yesterday. You were only doing what any friend would do and I was so paranoid that I was making it into something else.”
    “Apology accepted,” I said, though nothing had changed in terms of my opinion of him.
    “Can I ask you a favor?” he ventured uncertainly, y “That depends on what it is.”
    “Will you tell me if you find out anything more about how Danny died?”
    “Why?” I countered, sensing that Tom Galloway had something he clearly wanted to get off his chest.
    “I’ve heard some things.”
    “What things?”
    “I ran into a guy at the funeral who I recognized from Danny’s building. We started talking and he said the building manager told him Danny’d been stabbed. She said there was blood all over his apartment....”
    “There was a lot of blood,” I replied, “but Danny wasn’t stabbed. Though it was the appearance of the apartment that got everyone started asking questions in the first place. I told you in my office how he died. He had a perforated ulcer.”
    “Does that mean foul play isn’t suspected anymore?” asked Tom, sounding relieved.
    “No. Just the opposite. The medical examiner has just uncovered evidence that very definitely points to murder.”
    “I don’t get it.”
    “I’m sorry, for the time being I can’t tell you any more. All I can say is we’re looking very hard for the person who was with him in his apartment at the time he died.”
    “Why?” asked Galloway, his composure falling from him like a mask. “What does it matter who was with him in the apartment?”
    “Was it you?” I demanded. “Were you the one with him?”
    “No,” said Tom, “but I kind of know who was.” His shoulders sagged miserably and he looked up at me with puppy eyes of remorse. It was no wonder he got away with what he did. I didn’t know whether to reach over and pat his head or strangle him.
    “What exactly is it that you kind of know?” I demanded.
    “I should have told you sooner.”
    “Told me what?”
    “What I told you the other day was true. When I left Danny on Sunday morning he really was fine. But he was also waiting for someone.”
    “Who was he waiting for?”
    “I don’t know who.”
    “That’s awfully convenient.”
    “What I mean is I don’t know the person’s name. Danny was always careful not to tell me. He didn’t want to get them into trouble. But I do know it was someone who worked here.”
    “Here? At Azor? Do you know what the person’s job was, at least?”
    “A chemist I think.”
    I groaned inwardly. “Do you know what kind of chemist?” I prodded.
    “I don’t know exactly, but it was someone doing research.”
    Great, I thought to myself, now we’re really narrowing it down. Out loud I said, “Was this a friend of Danny’s? Someone he was involved with in some way? Why were they coming to his apartment, do you