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“Well, I’m at your service, Lieutenant,” I said, trying to dissemble a shiver of excitement as my pulse quickened. The lieutenant’s request for assistance made real what had heretofore been little more than a premonition. Indeed, I have developed a keen predilection for the blood sport of murder investigation. For that’s what it is, at bottom, a blood sport. And deeper, in the darker reaches of my heart, I could also feel that strange craving for the reality of evil, if only for something to confront and vanquish.

Lieutenant Tracy smiled. He has one of those smiles the scarcity of which makes it the more appealing. “I knew I could count on you, Norman. And also on your discretion. My visit here, strictly speaking, is unofficial.”

I nodded. “What is it that I can tell you that you think will be of help?”

“Could you tell me, what exactly was Professor Ossmann’s connection with the Genetics Lab?”

His question made me frown. The Genetics Lab has over the past couple of years changed beyond all recognition. The Onoyoko Institute, suffering in the general stagnation of the Japanese economy and the blaze of bad publicity in the wake of the Cannibal Murders, has long since gone, replaced by the Ponce Research Institute. Though nominally nonprofit, the Ponce has proved an absolute boon to the museum. It has given us the wherewithal to resist persistent attempts on the part of the university to take us over on terms other than those ensuring the integrity and longevity of this institution as an actual public museum.

I chose my words carefully in responding to the lieutenant’s question because, truth be known, I was not entirely certain what constituted the late professor’s connection with the lab. I cleared my throat. “Professor Ossmann, as you know, was a consultant at the Ponce, as the institute is generally called. He worked on therapies having to do with the cardiovascular system, which was his primary research interest.”

As I paused, the lieutenant leaned forward. “You seem skeptical of your own description.”

“I am,” I said. “This can go no farther than this room, but I’ve suspected for some time, Lieutenant, that Professor Ossmann was as much an agent provocateur for the university administration as an active consultant.”

“In what way?”

“He played an active role in the higher councils of the university. He served on the New Millennium Fund Steering Committee. He was on the somewhat controversial Benefits Subcommittee of the Faculty Reform Committee. He also served for a while as chair of the Steering Committee on Governance. In fact, it was during his tenure in that last position that he and I had one or two significant disagreements.”

The lieutenant said nothing, but his listening appeared to intensify.

“The same old story,” I said. “Wainscott wants to take us over. We, the museum, were the subject of a long report by Ossmann’s committee. My own Board of Governors rejected the report outright.”

“How did he end up over here?”

“We have a goodly number of consultants from the university who have contracts with the institute. It remains something of a sore issue between the university and the museum.”

“Why is that?”

“Money,” I said and smiled. “Lieutenant, I don’t want to bore you with the endless petty politics that go on in institutions of higher learning, but it’s clear to me now that the university is trying to get its hands on the museum for nothing less than the income it can derive from the research done in the Genetics Lab under the auspices of the Ponce Institute.”

His brows knit in thought as I went on. “And they might have succeeded had we not had in our employ a canny young attorney named Felix Skinnerman who has been handling our affairs with Wainscott for nearly two years now. He has learned, for instance, that the university’s charter was amended during the heady days of the nineteen sixties to the effect that no faculty member can benefit directly from research, patents, royalties, and the like taking place under university auspices or on university grounds.”

The lieutenant