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hall,” said Martini, tucking an errant band of hair behind her ear. “He could double for that Erik Estrada actor. A young Erik Estrada, from the CHiPs days. I suppose he hears that all the time.”
    “I’ll make sure he hears it now,” said Bernadette, jamming the slip of paper into her jacket pocket.
    Hessler was at the end of a double shift, and Garcia and Bernadette agreed to get him out of the way next.
    The size of a closet, Hessler’s office was crowded with an old metal desk and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. If there was a window, it was buried behind the walls of medical reference materials. Instead of hiding behind his metal clunker during the interview, the doctor propped his butt on the edge of it to talk to them. The agents sat in folding chairs. Most of their questions were about the storage room/morgue and its key.
    “You said the nursing supervisor keeps the key,” said Bernadette.
    “I should have said generally keeps the key,” he said quickly. “Tonight, I had it. Sometimes at night, it’s the physician on duty. It never left my pocket.”
    “What if the cafeteria needs to get something out of there?” asked Garcia.
    “Cafeteria is closed at night.”
    “During the day,” said Bernadette. “Do they have to hunt down the nursing supervisor, or does the cafeteria staff have access?”
    “Cooks have a key,” said Hessler.
    “Where do they keep it?” asked Bernadette.
    He hesitated. “Hanging up in the kitchen.”
    “So anyone can use it?” asked Garcia.
    “When there’s a body in the room, they don’t enter,” the doctor said defensively.
    “Honor system?” asked Bernadette.
    Hessler: “Well… I guess.”
    “I saw computer paper in there,” said Bernadette. “Office staff have a key?”
    Hessler rubbed his bloodshot eyes with his thumb and index finger. “Yes, but they know not to go in.”
    “No security guard on at night?” asked Bernadette.
    “Budget cuts,” Hessler said tiredly “We’ve got a sign. Visitors use the desk phone to call ER for an escort.”
    “Anyone call tonight?” asked Garcia. “Anyone come to see a patient late? Anyone come by late for any reason? A pharmacy delivery or—”
    Hessler shook his head. “No one.”
    “That you know of,” said Garcia.
    “That I know of,” Hessler conceded.
    “And during the day virtually anyone could have grabbed a key to that room,” said Bernadette.
    Hessler: “What do you want me to say?”
    “One other question,” said Bernadette. “Did Delores Martini disappear at all during her shift?”
    Hessler rubbed his eyes again. “Agent Saint Clare, there are so few of us on at night, and this is such a small hospital. I not only cover the ER, I take care of all the patients on the floor. Same with the nurses. ER and the patients on the floor. Back and forth. We all wear many hats and do everything . We hardly have time to use the bathroom.”
    “You had time for birthday cake,” Bernadette said dryly.
    Hessler frowned. “Why are you focusing on Delores? Did she—”
    “We’re not focusing on anyone,” Bernadette said quickly. “She’s the only nurse we’ve interviewed so far. Trying to see who can vouch for whom. Anyone else disappear, even for a few minutes?”
    He raised his right hand. “Swear to God, no one working under me tonight had opportunity to touch that body.”
    “Don’t speak to anyone about the details of this conversation,” said Bernadette as she and Garcia got up.
    “I’d like to go home and go to bed,” Hessler said. “Am I free to leave?”
    “Go ahead,” Bernadette said over her shoulder.
    When they were down the hall and out of Hessler’s earshot, Garcia asked, “Why’d you toss in that question about Martini specifically?”
    “She was a little too helpful.”
    “A tight little group, this ER crew,” said Garcia. “They’re going to back each other up.”
    Bernadette looked into an empty patient room. Through the windows, she saw Hessler heading for his