“My Leslie Gore hat.”
“What?”
“I was wearing a baseball cap with a picture of Leslie Gore on it. A white hat.”
The young doctor whistled. “Talk about the good news and the bad news! That hat was a target. Without it, you’d never have got shot. And if you hadn’t bent over to pick up that program, I can tell you, you wouldn’t be here now, you’d be at the city morgue.”
Lindsey said, “I guess.”
The doctor said, “By the way, who’s Leslie Gore?”
Lindsey said, “You wouldn’t know. Your mother might.”
The doctor chuckled. Then he said, “Lady sitting behind you wasn’t so lucky.”
Lindsey waited.
“When that bullet ricocheted it went up at an angle and got her in the throat. Severed arteries, crushed larynx, lodged in her top vertebra.”
“Then she’s—”
“Than a doornail. That’s how it goes. You
