“The youngest. She had learning problems, was sent to a remedial school in Santa Barbara around seventy-six or seventy-seven. She'd be around twenty-eight or twenty-nine now.”

“That would have to be Meredith,” he said. “Her I remember because one year Henry had the interns' party at his house and she was there—very good-looking, a real flirt. I thought she was older and ended up talking to her. Then someone warned me and I split fast.”

“Warned you about her age?”

“That and her problems. Supposedly a wild kid. I remember hearing something about institutionalization. Apparently she really put Henry and Mo through it—did you know he died?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Ben Wardley, too. And Milt Chenier . . . how come you're looking for Meredith?”

“Long story, Rube. It has to do with the school she was sent to.”

“What about it?”

“Things may have happened there.”

“Happened? Another mess?” He sounded more sad than surprised.

“It's possible.”

“Anything I should know about?”

“Not unless you had something to do with the school—the Corrective School, founded by a psychologist named Andres de Bosch.”

“Nope,” he said. “Well, I hope you clear it up. And as far as Meredith's concerned, I think she still lives in L.A. Something to do with the film business.”

“Is her name still Bork?”

“Hmm, don't know—if you'd like I can call Mo and find out. She's still pretty involved with the hospital—I can tell her I'm putting a mailing list together or something.”

“I'd really appreciate that, Rube.”

“Stay on the line, I'll see if I can get her.”

I waited for fifteen minutes with the speaker to my mouth. Pretending to look busy each time someone came by to use the phone. Finally, Rube came back on the line.

“Alex?”

“Still here.”

“Yes, Meredith's in L.A. She has her own public relations firm. I don't know if she ever married, but she still goes by Bork.”

He gave me the address and phone number and I thanked him again.

“Sure bet . . . another mess. Too bad. How'd you get involved, Alex? Through a patient?”

“No,” I said. “Someone sent me a message.”

Bork and Hoffman Public Relations, 8845 Wilshire Boulevard, Suite 304.

The eastern edge of Beverly Hills. A five-minute ride from the library.

The receptionist said, “Ms. Bork is on another line.”

“I'll hold.”

“And what was the name again?”

“Dr. Alex Delaware. I worked with her father at Western Pediatric Medical Center.”

“One moment, sir.”

A few minutes later: “Sir? Ms. Bork will be right with you.”

Then, a smoky female voice: “Meredith Bork.”

I introduced myself.

She said, “I specialize in the entertainment industries, doctor—movies, theater. We do a few doctors when they write books. Have you written a book?”

“No—”

“Just want to beef up your practice, a little press exposure? Good idea in today's economy, but it's not our thing. Sorry. I'll be happy to give you the name of someone who does medical publicity, though—”