“In the white coat? Doc.”

“That his name or his game?”

“Both. He’s at Lenox Hill, I think. He’s in here a lot, late, trying to pick up girls.”

“In a hospital jacket?”

“His technique is to diagnose them. Weird, isn’t it?”

Doc reached over to the girl next to him and peeled back her eyelid. The girl recoiled.

Stone laughed out loud and finished the Wild Turkey. “Bet it works. What girl could resist a doctah?”

“Just about all of them is my guess. I’ve never seen him leave with anybody.”

Stone signaled a waiter for the check and put some cash on the table.

“Have one on me,” Elaine said.

“Rain check. I’ve had one too many already.” He stood up and pecked her on the cheek.

“Don’t be such a stranger.”

“If I don’t pass the physical, I’ll be in here all the time. You’ll have to throw me out.”

“My pleasure. Take care.”

Stone glanced at Doc on the way out. He was taking the girl’s pulse. She was looking at him as if he were nuts.

Stone was a little drunk – too drunk to drive, he reckoned, if he had owned a car. The night air was pleasant, still warm for September. He looked up Second Avenue to see a dozen cabs bearing down on him from uptown. Elaine’s was the best cab spot in town; he could never figure out where they were all coming from. Harlem? Cabdrivers wouldn’t take anybody to Harlem, not if they could help it. He turned away from them; he’d walk, give the knee another workout. The bourbon had loosened it up.

He crossed Eighty-eighth and started downtown, sticking to the west side of the street. He lengthened his stride, made a conscious effort not to limp. He remembered walking this beat, right out of the academy; that was when he had started drinking at Elaine’s, when he was a rookie in the 19th Precinct, on his way home after walking his tour. He walked it now.