shadowing low, open gates meant more for decor than security. A long, winding lane bordered by boxwood hedge and backed by shaggy eucalyptus led me to the top of a knoll.
The hospital was a Bauhaus fantasy: cubes of white concrete assembled in clusters; lots of plate glass and steel. The surrounding chaparral had been cleared for several hundred yards, isolating the structure and intensifying the severity of its angles. The collection of cubes was longer than tall, a cold, pale python of a building. In the distance was a black backdrop of mountain studded with pinpoints of illumination that arced like low, shooting stars. Flashlights. I parked in the near-empty lot and walked to the entrance - double doors of brushed chrome centred in a wall of glass. And locked. I pressed the buzzer.
A security guard peeked through the glass, ambled over, and stuck his head out. He was middle-aged and potbellied, and even in the dark I could see the veins on his nose.
'Yes, sir?' He hitched up his trousers.
'I'm Dr.
Delaware
. A patient of mine -James Cadmus -called in crisis, and I wanted to see how he was.'
'Oh, him.' The guard scowled and let me in. 'This way, Doctor.'
He led me through an empty reception room decorated in insipid blue-greens and greys and smelling of dead flowers, turned left at a door marked C Ward, unlocked the dead bolt, and let me pass through.
On the other side was an unoccupied nursing station equipped with personal computers and a closed-circuit TV monitor displaying video oatmeal. The guard passed the station and continued to the right. We entered a brief, bright corridor checkered with blue-green doors, each pocked with a peephole. One door was open, and the guard motioned toward it.
'Here you go, Doc'
The room was six-by-six, with soft white vinyl walls and low, flat ceilings. Most of the floor space was taken up by a hospital bed fitted with leather restraints. There was a single window high up on one wall. It had the filmy look of old Plexiglas and was barred with steel posts. Everything -from the commode to the nightstand - was built in, bolted down, and padded with blue-green vinyl. A pair of crumpled white pyjamas lay on the floor.
Three people in starched white crowded the room.
An obese blonde woman in her forties sat on the bed, head in hands. By her side stood a big, broad black man wearing horn-rimmed glasses. A second woman, young, dark, voluptuous, and sufficiently good-looking to pass for Sophia Loren's kid sister, stood, arms folded across her ample chest, at some distance from the other two. Both women wore nurse's caps; the man's tunic buttoned to the neck.
'Here's his doctor,' announced the guard to a trio of stares. The fat woman's face was tear-streaked, and she looked frightened. The big black narrowed his eyes, and went back to looking impassive.
The good-looking woman's eyes narrowed with anger.
She shouldered the black man aside and stomped over. Her hands were clenched, and her bosom heaved.
'What's the meaning of this, Edwards?' she demanded in a contralto I recognised. 'Who is this man?'
The guard's paunch dropped a few inches.
'Uh, he said he was Cadmus's doctor, Mrs. Vann, and, uh, so I - '
'It was a misunderstanding,' I smiled. 'I'm Dr.
Delaware
. We spoke on the phone - '
She looked at me with amazement and swivelled her attention back to the guard.
'This is a locked ward, Edwards. It's locked for two reasons.' She gave him a bitter, condescending smile. 'Isn't it?'
'Yes, ma'am - '
'What are those reasons, Edwards?'
'Uh, to keep the loon - to maintain security, ma'am, and, uh - '
'To keep the patients in and strangers out.' She glared at him. 'Tonight you're batting oh-for-two.'
'Yes, ma'am. I just thought since the kid - ' That's enough thinking on your part for one night,' she snapped. 'Return to your post.'
The guard blinked rheumily in my direction.
'You want me to take him - '
'Go, Edwards.'
He looked at me hatefully and shuffled away. The fat woman
The hospital was a Bauhaus fantasy: cubes of white concrete assembled in clusters; lots of plate glass and steel. The surrounding chaparral had been cleared for several hundred yards, isolating the structure and intensifying the severity of its angles. The collection of cubes was longer than tall, a cold, pale python of a building. In the distance was a black backdrop of mountain studded with pinpoints of illumination that arced like low, shooting stars. Flashlights. I parked in the near-empty lot and walked to the entrance - double doors of brushed chrome centred in a wall of glass. And locked. I pressed the buzzer.
A security guard peeked through the glass, ambled over, and stuck his head out. He was middle-aged and potbellied, and even in the dark I could see the veins on his nose.
'Yes, sir?' He hitched up his trousers.
'I'm Dr.
Delaware
. A patient of mine -James Cadmus -called in crisis, and I wanted to see how he was.'
'Oh, him.' The guard scowled and let me in. 'This way, Doctor.'
He led me through an empty reception room decorated in insipid blue-greens and greys and smelling of dead flowers, turned left at a door marked C Ward, unlocked the dead bolt, and let me pass through.
On the other side was an unoccupied nursing station equipped with personal computers and a closed-circuit TV monitor displaying video oatmeal. The guard passed the station and continued to the right. We entered a brief, bright corridor checkered with blue-green doors, each pocked with a peephole. One door was open, and the guard motioned toward it.
'Here you go, Doc'
The room was six-by-six, with soft white vinyl walls and low, flat ceilings. Most of the floor space was taken up by a hospital bed fitted with leather restraints. There was a single window high up on one wall. It had the filmy look of old Plexiglas and was barred with steel posts. Everything -from the commode to the nightstand - was built in, bolted down, and padded with blue-green vinyl. A pair of crumpled white pyjamas lay on the floor.
Three people in starched white crowded the room.
An obese blonde woman in her forties sat on the bed, head in hands. By her side stood a big, broad black man wearing horn-rimmed glasses. A second woman, young, dark, voluptuous, and sufficiently good-looking to pass for Sophia Loren's kid sister, stood, arms folded across her ample chest, at some distance from the other two. Both women wore nurse's caps; the man's tunic buttoned to the neck.
'Here's his doctor,' announced the guard to a trio of stares. The fat woman's face was tear-streaked, and she looked frightened. The big black narrowed his eyes, and went back to looking impassive.
The good-looking woman's eyes narrowed with anger.
She shouldered the black man aside and stomped over. Her hands were clenched, and her bosom heaved.
'What's the meaning of this, Edwards?' she demanded in a contralto I recognised. 'Who is this man?'
The guard's paunch dropped a few inches.
'Uh, he said he was Cadmus's doctor, Mrs. Vann, and, uh, so I - '
'It was a misunderstanding,' I smiled. 'I'm Dr.
Delaware
. We spoke on the phone - '
She looked at me with amazement and swivelled her attention back to the guard.
'This is a locked ward, Edwards. It's locked for two reasons.' She gave him a bitter, condescending smile. 'Isn't it?'
'Yes, ma'am - '
'What are those reasons, Edwards?'
'Uh, to keep the loon - to maintain security, ma'am, and, uh - '
'To keep the patients in and strangers out.' She glared at him. 'Tonight you're batting oh-for-two.'
'Yes, ma'am. I just thought since the kid - ' That's enough thinking on your part for one night,' she snapped. 'Return to your post.'
The guard blinked rheumily in my direction.
'You want me to take him - '
'Go, Edwards.'
He looked at me hatefully and shuffled away. The fat woman
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