“This is very unexpected,” Daniel Lewinsky says.

I don’t respond to that for a few reasons. First, and most important, I really couldn’t care less about what he was expecting. But also, I have taken something of an instant dislike to him; he’s a guy that is clearly impressed with himself, and less so with me.

But the other reason I don’t respond is because I don’t want him to think we’re having a conversation. I’m here to ask questions, and his only function right now is to answer them.

Lewinsky is the general manager of Bergen Hospital, which I believe is the largest in New Jersey. It’s a sprawling complex, and one that fashions itself as the equal of any hospital in New York. I have my doubts about that, although I did get excellent care here after I was shot.

I’m here first because I want to learn what I can about Rita Carlisle, and I’m putting off interviewing her mother, who seems to be her only close relative. I’m delaying the reopening of her wounds for as long as possible, though I expect I’m going to have to do it sooner or later.

When I don’t respond to Lewinsky’s comment about how he didn’t expect my visit, he continues, “And I must say there’s a bit of déjà vu in play here as well.”

“How is that?” I ask.

“You know, you questioning me like this about Ms. Carlisle. It’s reminiscent of three years ago. It’s quite disconcerting, actually. Brings back memories of that awful time.”

I could tell him some things about bringing back memories, and that if USA Today published a list of the top déjà vu practitioners nationally, I’d be at the top, but I don’t.

“Would you mind telling me why this issue has come up again?” he asks. “Have Ms. Carlisle’s whereabouts become known?”

Lewinsky is the leader in the clubhouse for the position of “guy I’d least like to sit in a bar and watch a football game with.” Even the way he talks gets on my nerves. For example, in the mouth of a normal person, “Have Ms. Carlisle’s whereabouts become known?” would come out, “Did you find Rita?”

I don’t know if I felt differently about him three years ago, but if I liked him back then, I have clearly changed even more than I’ve been told. “This is a normal follow-up, Mr. Lewinsky.”

“You mean because she’s still missing?”

“We’ll get through this much faster if I ask the questions.”

“Very well,” he says, in a tone that indicates he thinks it’s far from very well.

“What was Ms. Carlisle’s job here?”

“That hasn’t changed in the past three years; she was in administration.”

“That would be a good answer if I asked what department she was in. I asked what her job was.”

“She was responsible for contacts outside of the hospital. With other hospitals, government agencies, hospice services, plus of course pharmaceutical companies…”

“Why do you say, ‘of course’?”

“Well, that was probably what she spent the most time on.”

“What was she doing in that regard?”

“Purchasing drugs to meet the needs of the hospital. Negotiating prices as well.”

That’s particularly interesting to me, because drugs would certainly be something that would interest both Tartaro and Silva. “Did she have a staff under her?”

“Yes, she did. I believe three people full-time, with occasional additional, temporary help. Her responsibilities were substantial.”

“How long did she work here?”

“Really, Detective, you must still have all of this information,” he says, his annoyance evident.

I nod. “I must. How long did she work here?”

“Almost four years.”

Time to change topics. “Are you aware of any romantic relationships she might have had with any of her coworkers?”

“No, I certainly am not.”

I ask him to give me a list of people in Rita’s department back in the day, and he tells me that a number of them have left. When I press him, he agrees and asks his assistant to have someone named Mitchell Galvis come in.

Galvis gets here so fast that I think he must have had his ear pressed to the door. Lewinsky introduces us, and we shake hands. I’ve got the feeling that Galvis is staring intently at my face, as if trying to remember where he saw me. I get that a lot, now that I’m semi-famous.

“Mitchell, Detective Brock will need a list of people that Rita Carlisle worked with, as well as contact information for those that are no longer with the hospital.”

Galvis nods. “I’ll get right on it. How can I reach you, Detective?”

I give him my card, and he assures me that I’ll be hearing from him soon. I then tell Lewinsky to send out a memo saying that everyone in the hospital that I might contact should speak to me. He agrees to do so, sporting a facial expression that identifies that agreement as very reluctant.

It’s while I’m on my way home that I realize I have an early morning session with Pamela tomorrow. It’s a few seconds later that I realize I’m not going to keep it. I call her office and get a machine, so I tell her that I’m sorry, but work is going to keep me from seeing her in the foreseeable future.

I don’t mention that “the foreseeable future” is going to last for the rest of my natural life. And the same is true of the amnesia group.

I’m through talking.

Now if I can just get someone to tell Jessie.