I went over to the reference table and looked in the phone book for the names I had copied. I was on the fourth name when Mr. Parks said, "Seems to me you appear to be looking for someone."

He was standing behind me again, peering over my shoulder.

I put my hand over the names. "It's rather personal."

He frowned. "Personal?"

"Private."

He peered at my hand as if he were trying to see through it. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No," I said. "I'm from the government. Central Intelligence."

He looked offended. "No reason to be rude."

I spread my free hand.

He said, "You were copying birth announcements. Now you're looking for those names in the phone book. I think you're trying to find someone. I think you're a private detective." Great. The big-time Hollywood op gets made by the small-town librarian. He started away. "Perhaps we should call the police."

I caught his arm and made a big deal out of looking around. Making sure that the coast was clear. "Thirty-six years ago, the person I'm working for was born in this area and given up for adoption. She has now contracted leukemia and requires a bone marrow transplant. Do you know what that means?"

He answered slowly. "They need a blood relative for those transplants, don't they?"

I nodded. You toss it on the water and sometimes they take it, but sometimes they don't. He was a knowledgeable man. He'd know more than a little about marrow transplants. He could ask to speak with my client or my client's physician, and, if I were legitimate, they'd be more than happy to speak with him. He could ask me if the leukemia was acute or chronic, or he could ask me which type of white blood cells were affected. There were a hundred things he could ask me, and some of them I could scam but most of them could blow me out of the water.

He looked at my hand over the list of names, then he looked back at me and I saw his jaw work. He said, "I saw some of your names there. I know some of those folks. This lady, the one you're working for, she gonna die?"

"Yes."

He wet his lips, then pulled over a chair and sat down beside me. "I think I can save you some time."

Of the eighteen names on my list, Mr. Albert Parks knew four, and we found another three listed in the phone book. The rest had either died or moved away.

I copied addresses and phone numbers for the seven still in the area, and Mr. Parks gave me directions on how to find those people who lived in the outlying areas. He offered to phone the four that he knew to tell them that I'd be stopping around, and I said that that would be fine, but that he should ask them to respect my client's privacy. He said that he was certain that they would. He said that he hoped that I could find a donor for my client, and asked me to give her his very best wishes for a complete recovery. His wishes were heartfelt.