Suite Nineteen by Mel Bossa

Author:Mel Bossa [Bossa, Mel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2011-09-13T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“That doctor was a jerk.”

Eevie turned the car engine on. “What did you expect, Ben? He’s got twenty-eight people sitting in the waiting room. People with real problems.”

“Did you see the look he gave me?”

“Look, forget about it. Less is your doctor. Anyway, you heard the man, she’s the best, even he couldn’t believe you wanted a second opinion.”

Indeed, the doctor had been shocked when he’d found out I was a patient of Less Ruscher. He had hurriedly jotted down a prescription for a four-day sick leave from work. “You’re in fine hands, son,” he’d said, handing me the paper. “Dr. Ruscher is a leading expert in the field.”

Eevie tapped her red fingernails against the steering wheel. We sat at a traffic light. “Ben, Lennox is expecting us at the main office.”

“I thought the agency operated out of the suite.”

“We rent a small space in an office building downtown.” The light turned green and she gunned through the intersection.

I tensed, hoping to make it to the office in one piece. I watched the brown snow. The pale, empty sky. Everything looked dirty. The recent unusually warm weather had melted most of the snowbanks and turned the city into a mushy pile of crap. The sidewalks were full of dog shit and cigarette butts. Plastic bags hung from bare trees. I tried to close my eyes, but Eevie’s driving made me nauseous, so I stared at my reflection in the side mirror instead.

“Don’t worry,” Eevie said. “I won’t tell Lennox that you almost knocked Ezra’s door down, okay?”

“Whatever.”

“What’s wrong?”

Ezra hadn’t been home. Where was he? Work? When would I see him again?

I was trapped. I had nowhere to go. I was at Lennox’s mercy. I had barely enough money to make my rent this month. I was losing my mind, and on top of that, the one man I still trusted, was—and all facts pointed to it—the very reason for my escalating loss of sanity. Ezra Collins was perhaps a monster—a sick freak who’d murdered his wife and had a powerful telepathic mind.

So what? I didn’t care. I only wanted to see his eyes again.

At last, Eevie pulled over. We were on La Montagne Street. I stepped out, looking up at the beautiful Crystal Hotel. “Is this the place?”

She bent to the side mirror to check her lipstick. “Yes.” She flipped her long hair back over her shoulder and motioned for me to follow.

We entered a building a few doors down from the hotel. It was pretty nondescript—a brown brick exterior with a small vacant lobby. The windows needed a scrub. The floor was dusty. There was hardly any light. Eevie tugged on my sleeve, and we walked across the lobby to a heavy metal door. We climbed three flights of stairs.

She pushed on the third-floor door and invited me to pass through.

The floor was carpeted and it smelled nice. Roses, or lilacs. I wasn’t sure.

Lennox leaned on a cluttered desk, speaking on his cell phone, nodding seriously—engrossed with the conversation.

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