Chapter Two
We exit the plush midtown office building of Parker Lyle and Co., providers of medical devices for the world... those of the prolific world... and arthritic dogs of course. Sandra Devon meanders with rigor. In wearing sandals, one source of her strained ambulation, the iron ankle rings, is easily detected.
But it is New York. So even if spied, there is little chance of reaction.
“May I call you a cab?” I inquire.
She shrugs, iron clad hands returned to the loose coat pockets.
“I would not know where the driver is to take me,” her reply I am sure intended to elicit sympathy.
“Where have you been staying?’
“The last two nights Central Park, but I was warned not to return tonight. The police woke me at daylight, suggesting that if they had encountered me any earlier I woul
