This is a short chapter, and I barely finished in time to post today since I didn't have much time to write while our visitors were here.

Hope you enjoy. Leave a comment if you wish

Chapter 142.

I left her room and headed back to my office, hoping the team or at least one member of it would be in the conference room. Luckily, Chase was there, writing things on the white board.

"Who said you could use my markers?" I made sure there was enough petulance in my voice that I'd get a good response from him.

"They don't have your name on them."

I picked one up. "It says Good Helpers. That's me."

"So do we call you Good or Helper?"

"God. They spelled it wrong."

He rolled his eyes. "House, what did you want?"

"Run patch tests on the warbler. Include tests for the flowers in the bouquet her boss brought her."

"You think it's an allergy?" he asked.

I just glared at him.

"Right. I'll get on it immediately." He dropped the marker he was writing with and left.

I studied what he'd written and smiled. His mind had gone in a completely different direction than mine, but it was still quite a jump from where we had been. The elegance of his leap didn't escape my notice. No one saw my smile.

I tapped the marker in my hand against my chin as I considered. Maybe it wasn't an allergy, or maybe the source of any allergic reaction was more widespread than I imagined. If Chase was right in his ideas, than the flowers had nothing to do with it. There were other things Marisa could have been exposed to in the hospital, ranging from the perfume (or after shave) one of the nurses wore to the plastic containers holding water and other drinks. I had to assume Chase would test for all of them.

While I waited for the results, I did a little search on Marisa's family. First I wanted to confirm that she was telling the truth about her half sister and about her parents. But I particularly wanted to learn anything else I could about Beverly. Marisa hadn't lied, but there was very little online about the family. None of them were involved in anything newsworthy. I found the obituary for her father. All it told me was the names of his wife and two daughters, which I already knew. Dead end both literally and figuratively.

As I learned when I was researching Molino and everyone else who came from Italy, getting information about Italian citizens or former Italian citizens or even visitors to Italy was problematic. Scratch that avenue.

Mrs. Curci had told us all she knew about Molino's new girlfriend. I remembered, though, that Cuddy had been somewhat helpful in tapping her Italian medical source. Could he provide more information about the Sicilian connection?

I sighed as I stood and headed toward my boss' office, wondering what I'd have to offer to get her to cooperate. As always, she was on the phone. She glared at me when she saw me through the glass. I tapped my cane a few times to indicate I was in a hurry to see her, but she continued to jabber away. Finally, almost ten minutes later she hung up and motioned for me to come in.

"What's it this time, House?"

"Who says I want something?"

"You don't come down here unless you do. In fact, your tendency is to avoid me." She smirked. "Why, if I saw you I might ask you to actually do some work."

I bunched up my mouth and let the air out slowly, preparing my approach. "I was wondering if you've heard anything from your contact in Sicily. Sylvester."

She rolled her eyes. "Sal. Salvatore Cavalieri."

"Yes, that's the one. I know you've been kinda busy with Marcello..."

She compressed her lips. "Not that it's any of your business, but since you were the one who introduced us, all I'll say is he's going to be a good addition to the hospital board."

I smiled. "Good. And it means you won't have to deal with Jess' father, right?"

"Right," she admitted reluctantly.

"Or even Marcello's father. So, you'll give Sal a call?"

"What do you want to know?" Her eyes narrowed.

"What the gossip is about Molino and his new girlfriend."

She took a deep breath and let it out. "That's going to cost you. Talking Locarno into letting his son take the seat on the board isn't enough."

"Not even if he becomes your new boy toy?"

"House!"

I held my hand up to ward off her fury. "Okay. Whaddya want? My first born? Because that's not gonna happen."

"From now on your team will take on two patients at a time." She held up two fingers just in case I forgot how to count.

"You know we can't do that."

"You can if you, and I mean you personally spend more time on your patients and less on chasing some cockamamie puzzles."

I was already thinking of how to get out of this, but I'd have to bide my time first, agree in principle and then, well, anything could happen. "Agreed. Now get on the horn and find out what you can." I hit her desk phone with my cane so the receiver fell out of the cradle.

She shook her head and picked it up but didn't replace it, so I left her to make the call.

That accomplished, I went back to Marisa's room, still hoping she could tell me something I could use about her sister. But she was asleep for once. I backed out immediately. Time to get some nourishment.

The cafeteria was filling up with the lunchtime crowd. I spotted my BFF getting his food and slipped in behind him, grabbing a sandwich, chips, an apple, and a slice of lemon meringue, then slipping them onto his tray as he took out his wallet.

Wilson turned to me, shrugged and sighed, and told the cashier, "He's with me."

She'd been there a while, long enough that she wasn't surprised. "That'll be eighteen dollars, Dr. Wilson."

"Even with this?" I added the largest soft drink they had. She added that to the tab, took Wilson's credit card, and we headed to a small table.

"Something's on your mind." Wilson never hesitated to state the obvious.

"There's always something on my mind. Multiple somethings. Pieces of the Molino puzzle are coming together, but I'm left with extra pieces that don't fit." I bit into my roast beef sandwich and chewed. Once I swallowed I went on. "Marisa's half sister is his latest girlfriend." I shook my head, ignoring Wilson's startled expression. "Unfortunately, they're not close. The sisters, I mean. Marisa hasn't seen or talked to Beverly in some time."

"There has to be a connection."

"Yes, but to what? Marisa is a singer at a piano bar. What does that have to do with Molino's vendetta against the Locarno's?" Then I admitted what was really annoying me. "I introduced her to Ricky Locarno. Now who could have predicted that might not be such a good idea?"

"If she doesn't have any contact with her sister, she can't be involved in any way with Molino. Don't kick yourself for playing matchmaker." Wilson chuckled. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd do that, by the way."

"Yeah, well, it seemed a good idea at the time." I munched on my chips as several thoughts fought it out in my head. "The piano bar gets their fruit from a company owned by Molino, or maybe by his thug, Giancarlo."

Wilson scratched his head. "I think I'm going to have to write this all down to keep track."

"It gets worse. Mike Morgan drives for that company and at times has been the delivery man for the Black Keys."

He whistled and his eyes narrowed. "Does Marisa know Morgan? Have they met at the club?"

Now that's why Wilson makes a great sounding board. "Interesting. I'll have to ask her."

"Maybe that's your connection, not the sister."

"Perhaps." I sipped my coke. Too watery, but how did that differ from usual?

"Has your team figured out what's wrong with her, besides the nodules?"

It wasn't a change of subject, not really, but I'd have to think about the Marisa-Morgan link before I came up with some theories, so it was a welcome change. "Chase did some patch tests."

"You think it's allergies rather than an infection?"

I shrugged. "I'm not quite grasping at straws, but we've ruled out most infections. The strange thing is that it started after she'd been here a while."

"The hospital takes all kinds of precautions to eliminate allergens."

"That's true, but she has had a couple of visitors, and doctors and nurses going in and out." I narrowed my eyes as a thought occurred to me, combined with where Chase's ideas might lead. "Who did you have working with her when you took over the case?"

"You think one of the oncology staff is to blame?"

"Blame is such a harsh word, but yes." I smirked.

"The usual nurses and orderlies. Yvette Coleman, um, Mary James, and that new oncology nurse, Don Markham, were the principle ones, I think."

I hadn't met the new nurse, but the two women were old pros, knew what they could and couldn't do. "How can I find Markham?"

"I'll bring him to your office this afternoon. But I'm sure he follows hospital regs." Wilson placed his hand flat on the table. "How could he cause an allergic reaction?"

"Who knows? Bring him by at two and we'll see." I finished my lunch and stood, leaving my things for Wilson to bus. Could it be that simple? Could exposure to Markham have caused Marisa's latest problems?