Chapter One

            Another hot August day was about to end as Doctor Robert Parchall crossed the lobby of the American Psychiatric Association.  Outside cars navigated the Connecticut traffic circle and drivers made obscene gestures at one another.  Such behavior would never be tolerated in this hallowed institution.  Here, behind closed doors, every year in August, the elite in psychiatry met to discuss the latest discoveries in treatment modalities and to vote on new psychiatric disorders.

            Neither of those two activities were among the reasons for Parchall’s meeting this evening.   Directly ahead of him sat a young, female graduate student, doing night duty as receptionist for the annual convention.  As he approached the kidney shaped desk, he can see that she’s absorbed in a computer program.  He doubts she’ll have the answer to the question that has his stomach acid flaming behind his belt buckle, but she’s his only choice after hours.

            “Excuse me Miss?’

            “Wilcox,” she said, glancing up from the computer and folding her hands on the desk.  “How can I help you?”

            “I’m doing a book signing in the Golden conference room this evening and I wonder where the signs are announcing this event?”

            “You’ll find that room, just down the hall to your left,” she answered, hoping he’d just go away.

            “This is an outrage.  Those signs should be right inside the front door as members come in for an evening seminar.  I’ll be complaining to the board in the morning.”

            “I”m sorry sir, there’s nothing I can do about it tonight.  I truly am very sorry.”

            Dr. Parchall ran his hand through his well-trimmed beard and forced himself to smile.  “I’m sure that’s true, and I think it’s partly my agent’s fault, but please tell everyone as they come in where my book signing is, okay?”