Dr. Ernest G. Rickenbacker.
I memorized the address and heaved myself to my feet.
The doctor's office was as green as the inside of a mentholated cigarette commercial.
The cool, lovely receptionist told me to wait and I did, tasting mint inside my mouth.
After several long, peaceful minutes the inner door opened.
"Mr. Turner, I can't seem to find any record of an appointment for you in Dr. Rickenbacker's files," the man said.
I got to my feet. "Then I'll come back."
He took my arm. "No, no, I can fit you in."
"I didn't have an appointment. I just came."