Murders at Hollings General (Dr. David Brooks) by Labriola M.D. Jerry

Author:Labriola M.D., Jerry
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Strong Books
Published: 1999-10-01T04:30:00+00:00

At five-thirty, Musco Diller beamed as David approached him, the beam he remembered Musco having whether he was down-and-out or not. He leaned his head out the window of his cab which was parked near the back fence of the auxilliary doctors' parking lot.

"Dr. David, my boy," he said. "Diller at your service. Whatcha got this time?" He was David's vintage, yet usually greeted him that way.

"Hi, old buddy, glad you could make it."

Musco was a wiry African-American who was never without his black cap with a rainbow band and shiny visor. Several tickets sprouted from the band. He seemed made out of pipe cleaners, all arms and legs, constantly in motion. David understood one of his eyes was glass but he could never guess which one. He had a small grizzled mustache and, growing in the center of his chin was a matching tuft of hair which appeared to have been overlooked in shaving.

David knew Musco's inquiry about the nature of a job was merely small talk. Way back, he had said, "Just show me what you want and give me a minute by myself. You don't ask how and I don't ask why. I don't want to know nothin'."

They took the hospital's freight elevator to the fourth floor, its highest destination beneath the administrative wing, and climbed the remaining two floors to Foster's office, encountering no one on the way. In the corridor, David put Friday down and pointed to the administrator's front door with the index finger of his left hand and in the direction of the back door with the same finger of his right hand. He preferred the back one and led Musco around to it and said, "Here it is, do your open sesame thing," snapping his finger against the large oak door before them. "I'll go check out front for a minute."

David peeked around corners as he examined the corridors surrounding Foster's suite. He returned to find Musco dusting off his hands and a door fully opened.

"What took you so long?" David asked with a wink. He added an offhand "Thanks." " He had seen Musco in action many times before. What he had never seen was tools, and he had never inquired about any.

"Well, I'm off, " Musco said, "less you need more opening inside." He turned to leave.

"No, I think we're all set." David peeled the only hundred dollar bill from a wad of twenties and fives he took from his pocket. He folded it in two. "Musco," he said. The cabbie pivoted and David inserted the bill in the band of his cap.

"Thanks, my boy. You might need more opening—call—you hear?"

"I hear and I might. You can find your way out?" "Of course," Musco answered as he disappeared around the corner.

David took the flashlight out of Friday and entered the darkened office before turning it on. He felt calm but was certain his breathing bounced off the walls. The air smelled mustier than he expected for an office closed up for only half an hour.

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