Private Practices by Linda Wolfe

gave the nurse his home number. After a whole afternoon at the hospital today, he’d have to rest up tomorrow before trying to come in again. Then, hanging up, he made his way back to the elevator and took it down to the lounge.
    Alithorn was there already, he saw as he propelled himself awkwardly through the swinging leather-paneled doors. A waiter leaped to help him, but he brushed him aside and wheeled toward the fireside table his old friend had chosen.
    â€œHey! Harry! Great to see you,” Alithorn called out, his suntanned face enthusiastic. Mulenberg reached out across white linen to shake his hand and for a moment forgot about Sidney Zauber. At least the chief of the department still considered him a friend, a person of value, despite his infirmities. Pulling his chair close to the side of the table, where he could be opposite Alithorn and yet still enjoy the pretty sight of the flames in the lounge’s giant fireplace, he said buoyantly. “What’re we drinking?”
    It was Alithorn who brought his mind back to Sidney. As soon as they had ordered, he said, “Did you hear Sid? How was it? I meant to get over and hear him but I got tied up.”
    â€œHe was all right,” Mulenberg muttered and wondered whether he and Alithorn were still on good enough terms for him to criticize Sidney and be taken seriously. “Only all right?” he was saying dubiously. “He’s our house genius.” Then Alithorn stuck his hand into his pocket, pulled out a small, carved ivory animal and began stroking it thoughtfully.
    â€œSome genius,” Mulenberg said, deciding to chance an attack on Sidney, but resolving not to make it sound personal. “I know a guy in the Caribbean who says Sidney’s research protocol is wretchedly designed. He says they’ve spent all the money doing follow-up studies of women who stay on the pill, and none at all on women who go off it.”
    â€œYou can’t do everything. There’s just so much money and you have to figure out how best to spend it,” Alithorn said, his eyes on the carving. “Anyway, it’s not my lookout, is it? It’s the Deutsch Foundation that will have to worry about that. Now, if you told me he was screwing up around here, that might be another story.”
    Mulenberg swallowed the last of his bourbon and, feeling warm, dug out a cube of ice and chewed on it. “When a guy who can’t bear to be questioned makes a mistake,” he said sharply, “he starts not answering to anybody.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Alithorn raised his eyes inquisitively to Mulenberg’s. But the incident in the lecture hall was too embarrassing to relate. Mulenberg retreated to generalities. “Sidney’s been awfully arrogant lately.”
    â€œWell, why shouldn’t he be?” Alithorn muttered, disappointed. “Weren’t you, in your heyday?” He shook his head. “I’m surprised at you, Harry. There are a lot of guys around here who are jealous of Sidney Zauber, but they’re the guys who never amounted to much themselves.” Suddenly he handed his piece of ivory across the table to Mulenberg. “Maybe being in that chair is getting you down. You ought to have a hobby.”
    Glancing at the carving only briefly, Mulenberg tried to resume his discussion of Sidney. Perhaps he really ought to be more specific. “This fellow in the Caribbean I mentioned,” he began, but Alithorn had lost interest in the topic. “Why don’t you come with me to my netsuke dealer sometime?” he interrupted Mulenberg.
    â€œI’m not the type for hobbies.”
    â€œYou’d be smart to develop one. It’d help, now that you have so much time on your hands. Here, look at the ears on this tiger. Now the fellow who carved this was really what you could call a genius.”
    Mulenberg studied the tiny animal. “I suppose you’re right,” he