Alex Delaware - 14 - Dr. Death by Jonathan Kellerman

Author:Jonathan Kellerman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 0345508521
Published: 2000-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

20

MILO AND I stayed in the booth.

The waitress was leaning protectively over the old woman. He waved for her. She held up a finger.

He said, “Just like the Feds—we get stuck for the check.”

“He liked the brisket, but didn’t eat much of it,” I said. “Maybe his gut’s full of something else.”

“Like what?”

“Frustration. He’s been on this for a while—got a bit touchy when I called Burke his project. Sometimes that can lead to tunnel vision. On the other hand, there’s a lot that seems to match.”

“What—‘geometry’?”

“A killer with a medical background and artistic interests, the combination of ‘euthanasia’ and lust-murder. And he was awfully close when he described the de- tails of Mate’s murder, down to the blitz attack and the cleanup.”

“That he could’ve gotten from a departmental leak.”

The waitress came over. “It’s been taken care of, sir. The white-haired gentleman.”

“And a gentleman he is.” Milo handed her a ten.

“The tip’s also been taken care of,” she said.

“Now it’s been taken care of twice.”

She beamed. “Thanks.”

When she was gone, I said, “See, you judged him too harshly.”

“Force of habit . . . Okay, so some of my income tax came back to me. . . . Yeah, there are similarities, there often are with psycho killers, right? Limited repertoire: you bludgeon, you shoot, you cut. But it’s far from a perfect match. Starting with the basics: Mate’s not a young girl and he wasn’t tied against a tree. Fusco can fudge all he wants, but, PhD or not, in the end it comes down to his feelings. And where does making Burke a suspect lead me? Trying to chase down some phantom the Bureau hasn’t been able to snag for three years? I’ve already got prospects close to home.”

His hand grazed the file folder. “If I don’t cooperate eventually, he’ll call the brass and I’ll be stuck with task-force bullshit. For the moment, he’s trying cop-to-cop.”

A couple of multiple-pierced kids dressed in black entered the deli and took a booth at the front. Lots of laughter. I heard the word “pastrami” used as if it was a punch line.

“Nitrites for the night crawlers,” Milo muttered. “Wanna do me a big favor? One that won’t put you in conflict of interest?” Tapping the file. “Go over this for me. You come up with something juicy, I take it more seriously. . . . Artistic. Burke draws, he doesn’t paint. We’ve already got a good idea who did that masterpiece. . . . So, you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Thanks. That frees me up for the fun stuff.”

“Which is?”

“Scrounging through putrid squats in Venice. Cop’s day at the beach.”

He hoisted himself out of the booth.

“Feds with PhDs,” he said. “Bad guys with MDs. And moi with a lowly master’s—it’s not pretty, being outclassed.”

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