A hospital phone book-the little orange ones?'
Ah.' She bent and produced one from under the counter.
No Herberts in the medical roster. In the following section, listing nonmedical staff, I found a Ronald Herbert, tagged as Assistant Food Services Manager. But the extension didn't match the one on the slip and I couldn't see a catering specialist having an interest in sudden infant death.
I thanked her and left. Just before the door closed, I heard her say, 'Come again, Doctor.'
I retraced my steps through the sub-basement, passing Laurence
Ashmore's office again. The door was still closed and when I stopped to listen, I thought I heard movement on the other side.
I kept going, looking for a phone, finally spotted a pay unit just past the elevators. Before I got to it the elevator door opened and Presley Huenengarth stood there, looking at me. He hesitated, then walked out of the lift. Standing with his back to me, he removed a pack of Winstons from his suit pocket and took a long time cracking the seal.
The elevator door started to shut. I checked it with the heel of my hand and got on. The last thing I saw before it closed was the security man's placid stare behind a rising cloud of smoke.
Alter riding up to the first floor I used an in-house phone near Radiation Therapy to dial D. Kent Herbert's extension. The hospital's main switchboard answered.
'Western Pediatrics.'
'I was dialing extension two-five-oh-six.'
'One moment and I'll connect you, sir.' A series of clicks and mechanical burps, then: 'Sorry, sir, that extension's been disconnected.'
'Since when?'
'I don't know, sir.'
Any idea whose extension it was?'
'No, sir. Who were you trying to reach?'
'D. Kent Herbert.'
'Is that a doctor?'
'I don't know.'
Pause. 'One moment... The only Herbert I have listed is Ronald, in Food Services. Would you like me to connect you?'
'Why not?'
Five rings.
'Ron Herbert.' Crisp voice.
'Mr. Herbert, this is Medical Records, calling about the chart you requisitioned?'
'Come again?'
'The medical chart you checked out in February? From SPI?'
'You must have the wrong guy, pal. This is the cafeteria.'
'You never requested an SPI chart on February 54 of this year?'
laughter. 'Now why the heck would I do that?'
'Thank you, sir.'
