Cook, Robin - Cell by Cook Robin

Author:Cook, Robin [Cook, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

31

GEORGE’S APARTMENT

WESTWOOD, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

FRIDAY, JULY 4, 2014, 9:00 A.M.

George was off from work for the Fourth of July for the first time since coming to Los Angeles, but he had no desire to spend it at the beach. Instead, he wanted to use the day digging into Kasey’s, Sal’s, and Laney’s deaths. The first thing he planned to do was get in touch with Sal’s primary-care physician, Dr. Roland Schwarz. George had had the opportunity to talk with him briefly six months previously on Sal’s behalf. Sal had been confused about the doctor’s orders, and George stepped in to clear them up. He remembered that Schwarz, although somewhat curt, had been cooperative and reasonably knowledgeable.

George dialed Schwarz’s office number with the intention of leaving a message. He was caught off guard when Schwarz himself answered the phone.

“This is Dr. Schwarz, how may I help you?” Schwarz bellowed brusquely.

“Hello, Dr. Schwarz,” George stammered, not prepared to talk to the man himself. “This is Dr. George Wilson calling. I’m at L.A. University Medical Center. We spoke on the phone a few months back regarding a patient by the name of Salvatore DeAngelis. I’m calling now with a few additional questions.”

“I’m seeing patients today,” Schwarz snapped. “If you academic types want to talk, you can come by the office.” With that he hung up.

George was so amazed that the man was seeing patients on the Fourth of July that he hardly even registered the guy’s rudeness. If the man wanted him to come to his office, George would oblige.

• • •

Dr. Schwarz’s practice was in Westwood Village, on a quaint, tree-lined street normally populated with throngs of UCLA students. But as it was a summer holiday, the streets were quiet; anyone who wasn’t on break was down at the beach for the day. It was, after all, Southern California.

The medical center where George worked was within walking distance from Schwarz’s office, so George was able to use the hospital garage for his car and make his usual breakfast run. He finished his bagel walking down Braxton Avenue, looking for the doctor’s building. He found Schwarz’s name on a faded shingle bolted onto an old Mission-style ediface.

George stepped inside and surveyed the room, noting that there wasn’t a receptionist, a secretary, or even a nurse present, just a half dozen patients waiting to be seen. They all looked up, evaluating George as he walked in. He gave them a quick grin and took an empty seat, not wanting to risk looking as if he were going to cut the line. Once he settled into a seat everyone relaxed.

George waited while several people who had arrived before him were seen. Schwarz would poke his head out of the adjacent room and call a name off a clipboard, then usher in the patient. Glimpsing the interior, George could see that the entire office consisted of just two rooms: the waiting room and a combination exam room/office. George understood that his name wasn’t on the clipboard and that if he didn’t get up and nab Schwarz he’d be sitting there until closing time.

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