Do Not Resuscitate (Dr. Beckett Campbell, Medical Examiner Book 4) by Patrick Logan

Author:Patrick Logan [Logan, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pathological Ink
Published: 2019-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

***

“In here,” Screech said, indicating what looked like a closet at the back of SLH Investigations.

Beckett looked first at Leroy and then Hanna, neither of whom looked pleased. It was his understanding that Drake had been the one who relished secrecy, whereas Screech preached an open-door policy. It appeared, however, that this was an exception.

His interest piqued, Becket stepped into the broom closet. Once inside, Screech poured himself a drink and offered him one.

Beckett declined.

“I don’t know why you’re interested in this Tyler Tisdale character, but you need to back off.”

Beckett was incredulous.

“What? Why?”

“I think it’s in your best interest to just back off, Beckett.”

Beckett expected the man to continue but when he didn’t, his eyes narrowed.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I pay you five grand and the only thing you come up with is to ‘back off’? No wonder you can barely keep the lights on in this place.”

The comment had meant to get under Screech’s skin, and it didn’t miss its mark.

“I’m just looking out for you, Beckett. Tyler Tisdale is involved with some bad people and some bad shit. Both of which you should stay away from?”

“Really? What’d you do, Google him? You think I didn’t know that already?”

A vein in Screech’s forehead started to pulsate.

“I have a… friend… who dealt with him back in Seattle. Says he was a real piece of work, used to even whore out his sister. There’s even a rumor that he killed several people there, slinging some bad dope on purpose when people refused to pay their debts. Managed to skip out any serious jail time though, based on a plea deal that has been sealed. From there, he moved to New York, but he kept his connections in the drug trade. Someone must have taken a liking to him—Lord only knows why—because now he’s no longer dealing in ounce baggies, but in kilos, and he’s delivering the goods directly to—”

Screech stopped suddenly, evidently concerned with how much he’d already said.

All you have to do is get under Screech’s skin and he spills the beans? Beckett thought. Good to know.

“The mob, Screech—just say it. Tyler is delivering his dope right to the mob.”

Screech’s face remained neutral.

“Okay, then, thanks for all your excellent work, Columbo.”

Beckett reached for the door, but Screech had something else to add.

“Beckett, I can’t do this. I’ll give you back your retainer and I won’t charge you for the information I just told you. But I can’t be involved with anything to do with—” the man hesitated, “— Tyler Tisdale or his associates.”

Beckett turned.

“Why do I get the sneaking suspicion that you’re already involved with them, Screech? Why do I get the impression that you’re in too deep?”

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