Dupree's Reward by Micheal Maxwell

Author:Micheal Maxwell [Maxwell, Micheal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Maxwell Books, LLC
Published: 2020-03-21T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

“It would appear you have a broken rib, and a couple badly bruised.”

“And?” Dupree asked.

“And they are going to hurt until they heal. Well, I got you wrapped up good and tight. I got some samples of pain pills I’ll give you, but other than that, you seem to be okay. Who set your nose?”

“A friend in California. Why?”

“Good job.”

“So what do I owe you?”

“Nothing. It will be worth it to see Jeremy Epperson come in here to get looked at. I delivered him, you know. I should have done an abortion.” The old doctor gave a phlegmy cough. “Travis Slader, too. What a couple of…”

“And nobody does anything,” Dupree said with disgust.

“Ol’ Marsh just did. If I were him I’d go on a cruise to the South Seas though. They’ll come back looking for blood.” The doctor reached in a drawer in the side cabinet. “You care for?” he asked, tipping the flask towards Dupree. “I do, it’s medicinal. I write my own prescription.” The doctor burst into a mix of coughing and laughter.

“People are basically sheep, Mr. Dupree. They’ll let the wolves pick ’em off until there’s none left. Some people left, some just stay out of the way. God, I hate this place.”

Dupree winced and slid from the examination table. “Why do you stay?”

“Who else would come here to open a practice?”

“The same kind of person that would come here to open a law office,” Dupree offered.

“Maybe so, maybe so.” The doctor took another sip from his flask. “Maybe so.”

By the time Dupree finished with the doctor, it was nearly five-thirty. He headed for home. All along the way, he kept looking over his shoulder. Several times he thought he saw the black Camaro.

As he walked, the thought of packing up and moving on turned and tumbled in his mind. L.A. wasn’t as crazy as this place, he thought, or was I just shielded? There was a doorman, a security guard in the lobby, a receptionist at the office entrance, his personal secretary, and big heavy doors between him and anyone who didn’t have an appointment or was the least bit threatening. Is White Owl how things are in the real world? A world outside the multi-million-dollar bubble I worked in? He walked on.

There are two, maybe more, men that the town hates. They think they have some privilege of birth, native sons. Strangers threaten their world. I have come and shaken it to its core. I should leave, he thought, I owe these people nothing. They probably wouldn’t even notice.

Then ahead of him in the fading light, on the curtain of his thoughts, he saw Dara. Her smile loomed in the curve of the street, her white forelock seemed to light his path. He knew beautiful women, he saw beautiful women every day, at work, on the street, yet none played upon his thoughts and mind like Dara.

What was it about this simple, small-town café owner that was so different? When they talked earlier, even her voice seemed to reach inside and say, it’s alright, we got this.

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