I sadly shook my head. I was still feeling wasted. "Don't know yet.

They won't tell me anything. Doctor wanted to know if I was next of kin. They took him toTrauma. He cut himself real bad. So what brings you to happy hour?"

Sampson shrugged his way out of his poncho, and flopped down beside me on the straininggurney. Under the poncho, he had on one of his typical street-detective outfits: silver-and-red Nike sweatsuit, matching high-topped sneakers, thin gold bracelets, signet rings. Hisstreet look was intact.

“Where's your gold tooth?” I managed a smile. "You need a gold tooth to complete your flyensemble. At least a gold star on one tooth.

Maybe some corn braids?"

Sampson snorted out a laugh. “I heard. I came,” he said offhandedly about his appearance atSt. Anthony's. “You okay? You look like the last of the big, bad bull elephants.”"Little boy tried to kill himself. Sweet little boy, like Da-mon.

Eleven years old."

“Want me to run over to their crack crib? Shoot the boy's parents?” Sampson asked. His eyeswere obsidian-hard.

“We'll do it later,” I said.

I was probably in the mood. The positive news was that the parents of Marcus Daniels livedtogether; the bad part was that they kept the boy and his four sisters in the crack house theyran near the Langley Terrace projects. The ages of the children ranged from five to twelve,and all the kids worked in the business. They were “runners.” “What are you doing here?” Iasked him for the second time. “You didn't just happen to show up here at St. A's. What's up?”Sampson tapped out a cigarette from a pack of Camels. He used only one hand. Very cool. He litup. Doctors and nurses were everywhere.

I snatched the cigarette away and crushed it under my black Converse sneaker sole, near thehole in the big toe.

“Feel better now?” Sampson eyed me. Then he gave me a broad grin showing his large whiteteeth. The skit was over. Sampson had worked his magic on me, and it was magic, including thecigarette trick. was feeling better. Skits work. Actually, I felt as if I'd just been huggedby about a half-dozen close relatives and both my kids. Sampson is my best friend for areason. He can push my buttons better than anybody.