We both stood.
'If you ever need to talk to me,' he said, 'here's my office number.'
He put his cup down, reached into a hip pocket, and pulled out an Indian silver money clasp inlaid with an irregular turquoise.
Twenty-dollar bill on the outside, credit cards and assorted papers underneath. Removing the entire wad, he shuffled through it and found a white business card. Placing it on the table, he retrieved a blue Bic from another pocket and wrote something on the card, then handed it to me.
Snarling tiger logo, WVCC TYGERs circling it. Below that: WEST V~EY COMMUNITY C~EGE DEPhIErMENT 0F ~IhL'sCIEIIc:Es (818)509-3476
Two lines at the bottom. He'd filled hem in using dark block letters: CHIP JONES EXT.2359
'If I'm in class,' he said, 'this'll connect you to the message center.
If you want me around when you come visiting at the house, try to give me a day's notice.
Before I could reply, heavy rapid footsteps from the far end of the hall made both of us turn. A figure came toward us. Athletic gait, dark jacket.
Black leather jacket. Blue slacks and hat. One of the rent-a-cops patrolling the halls of Pediatric Paradise for signs of evil?
He came closer. A mustachioed black man with a square face and brisk eyes. I got a look at his badge and realized he wasn't Security.
LAPD. Three stripes. A sergeant.
'Excuse me, gentlemen,' he said, speaking softly but giving us the once-over. His name tag read PERKINS.
Chip said, 'What is it?'
The cop read my badge. It seemed to confuse him. 'You're a doctor?'
I nodded.
'How long have you gentlemen been out here in the hall?'
Chip said, 'Five or ten minutes. What's wrong?'
Perkins's gaze shifted to Chip's chest, taking in the beard, then the earring. 'You a doctor too?'
'He's a parent,' I said. 'Visiting his child.'
'Got a visiting badge, sir?'
Chip pulled one out and held it in front of Perkins's face.
Perkins chewed his cheek and swung back to me. He gave off a barbershop scent. 'Have either of you seen anything unusual?'
'Such as?' said Chip.
Anything out of the ordinary, sir. Someone who doesn't be~~~g,~ 'Doesn't belong,' said Chip. 'Like somebody healthy?'
Perkins's eyes became slits.
I said, 'We haven't seen anything, Sergeant. It's been quiet.
Why?'
Perkins said, 'Thank you,' and left. I watched him slowing for a moment as he passed the pathology lab.
Chip and I took the stairs to the lobby. A crowd of night-shifters crowded the east end, pressing toward the
