'This was my house and this lady was my wife. We were having a slight argument. That's all.'
The cop strained his eyes to see Margaret standing in the shadows of the hall.
'Is this true, ma'am?'
Margaret sounded so different that Dr. Petrie could hardly believe it was the same person. Instead of speaking harshly and bitterly, she was like a pathetic little girl, all weak and heartbroken and begging for sympathy.
'I was only trying to reason with him, officer. He went crazy. Look, he broke the door. He went absolutely crazy. He said he was going to beat me up, and take my little girl away.'
Dr. Petrie stared in amazement. 'But — this is preposterous — I was — '
The cop reached down, and calmly attached a handcuff to Dr. Petrie's wrist. 'I have to advise you of your rights,' he said. 'You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to — '
'I didn't do anything!' snapped Dr. Petrie. 'My wife came around to my place and took my little girl without my permission. Now she's sick with the plague and she won't let me take my daughter back. For God's sake, look at her! She's sick with the plague! If you take me away, my daughter's going to catch it and die! Don't you understand that?'
The second cop was opening the police car doors.
The first cop said, 'Listen, sir, we've all had a very trying time recently with this epidemic. You know what I mean? I picked up a guy for breaking in a TV store just half-an-hour ago. He said his old granny was dying of sickness, and he wanted to make her last hours happy by letting her watch TV. It's an emergency situation. Lots of people are trying to take advantage of it. Now, let's go, huh?'
Dr. Petrie said, 'I don't suppose it would make any difference if I told you I was a doctor?'
The cop pushed him into the car and sat down beside him. The second cop settled himself down behind the steering wheel, and pulled away from the kerb, siren whooping and lights ablaze.
'You're a doctor, huh?' answered the cop, after a while. 'Well, maybe you ought to be out there healing some of these sick people, instead of bothering your ex-wife.'
Dr. Petrie said nothing. The police car squealed on to the North-South Expressway, and sped downtown.
They took his money, his keys and his necktie, and locked him in an open-barred cell with two black looters and a drunk. He was exhausted, and he lay on the rough gray blanket of his bed, and slept without dreams for four hours.
It was eleven o'clock when he woke up, feeling cramped and sore but slightly more human. The drunk had gone, and the two negroes were left by themselves, murmuring quietly to each other.
He sat up, and rubbed his face. There was a small basin in the corner of the cell, and he splashed cold water over himself, and wiped himself dry with his handkerchief.
He went to the bars and looked out, but there was no sign of anyone. Nothing but a gray-painted corridor, and a smell of body odor and carbolic soap. He turned around to the blacks.
'What do you have to do to get some service around here?'
The blacks stared at him briefly, and then went back to their conversation.
'I'm a doctor,' Petrie insisted, 'and I want to get out of here.'
The blacks started at him again. One of them grinned, and shook his head.
'They don't let nobody out today, man. It's emergency regulations. Anyway, if things don't get much better out there on the streets, maybe you safer where you at.'
Dr. Petrie nodded. 'You're probably right. But what do I have to do to get some attention?'
The other black said, 'This ain't the Coral-on-the-Ocean, man. This is the Slammer-in-the-city.'
They both laughed, then resumed their talk.
Dr. Petrie went to the bars and shouted, 'Guard!'
The blacks stopped talking again and watched him.
He waited for a while, and then shouted, 'Guard! Guard! Let me out of here!'
A few more minutes passed, and then a young policeman with rimless spectacles came down the corridor jangling a bunch of keys.
'You Dr. Petrie?' he asked.
'That's right. I want to see my lawyer.'
'You don't have to. You're free to leave.'
The guard unlocked the cell, and Dr. Petrie stepped out. One of the blacks said, 'So long, honky, have a nice day,' and the other laughed.
Dr. Petrie was ushered back to the police station desk, where the two arresting officers had brought him that morning. Adelaide was there, with dark rings under her eyes. She was still wearing the buttermilk-colored dress in which he had picked her up last night.
'Leonard — are you all right? Oh God, I was so worried.'
She came up and held him close, and he was so relieved to feel her and see her that he felt tears prickling in his eyes.
The desk sergeant said, 'When you've quite finished the love tableau, would you mind signing for these personal possessions?'
Dr. Petrie signed. 'Listen,' he told Adelaide, as he tied his necktie, 'I have to get back to the hospital. I promised Dr. Selmer.'
'It was Dr. Selmer who told me you were missing,' Adelaide said. He called at the house to see if you were there. When I said you weren't, he called the police, and they found out that you were here. I came straight over.'
'Have they closed the beaches yet?' he asked her, as they walked out of the tinted glass doors of the police station into the brilliant mid-morning sunlight.
'Not yet. The news says that it's serious, this plague, but that people mustn't get too worried. But it doesn't make sense. What the newspapers are saying, and the TV, it doesn't seem to tie up at all. I've seen people sick in the streets, and yet they keep saying there's nothing wrong.'
Dr. Petrie looked around. The sky was its usual imperturbable blue, flecked with shadowy White clouds. But the city was quiet. There were only a few cars, and they seemed to be rolling around the city streets in a strange dream. Some of them were piled high with possessions — chairs, tables and mattresses — and it was obvious that the few people who had realized what was going on were getting out as quick as they could.
The sidewalks — usually crowded with shoppers and tourists — were almost empty. People who needed to go for food or drink were, hurrying back to their cars and avoiding strangers like — Like the plague, thought Dr. Petrie bitterly.
'Have you seen any bodies?' he asked Adelaide.
She shook her head. 'I've heard though,' she said quietly. 'I caught a taxi, and the taxi-driver said he'd seen people lying on the ground, dead.'
'I saw a whole family last night,' Dr. Petrie said. 'It was awful. They were just lying on the sidewalk. I can't understand how Donald Firenza has kept this under wraps for so long.'
'Are you going back to the hospital?' Adelaide asked.
'I have to.'
'Do you want me to come with you?'
He shook his head. 'It's too risky. The hospital is full of infection. I don't know why on earth I haven't caught the plague yet but Dr. Selmer reckons that a few people could be immune. Maybe I'm one of them.'
Adelaide held his arm. 'Maybe? Leonard — what if you go to the hospital and — well, what if I never see you again?' She looked away.
'Adelaide, I'm a doctor. This city is dying around us. Look at it. Have you ever seen downtown Miami as quiet as this on a Tuesday lunchtime? I have to find out what's going on, and I have to help.'
'Leonard, I'm not leaving you. Not again. I've just spent the most frightening night of my life, waiting for you to come back, and I'm not going to let it happen again.'
A cab was parked at the corner. The driver, a squat middle-aged man in a straw hat, was calmly smoking a cigar and sunning himself as he leaned against the trunk.
Dr. Petrie walked over, holding Adelaide's hand, and said, 'Will you take me to the hospital?'
The taxi driver looked him up and down. 'You sick?' he asked.