'I think he was white. Not old or young. But I'm not sure.'
'Was he a hunchback?' I asked, bringing up the FBI's profile.
Benedict shot me a glance, but honored my rank by not questioning me in front of a civilian.
'You mean like Quasimodo?' Steve asked.
I felt silly, but nodded.
'No, I would have remembered it if he was.'
'Did he also get syringes with the Seconal?'
'I'm not sure. Let me check.'
He went to his computer and hit a few keys.
'Here's the prescription.' Steve pointed at his screen. 'Under the name Charles Smith. He isn't listed anywhere else in our computer. No needles, either. All he got from us was the Seconal.'
'Do you have the original handwritten prescription?'
'Nope. We throw them away at the end of the week.'
'How do you know if a prescription is real or faked?'
'I suppose it's possible to counterfeit prescriptions, but who else but a doctor would know how many mgs of tetracycline are used to fight a respiratory infection? As for the Class B and C drugs, the ones that could be sold on the street, we call on them.'
'Did you call for this one?'
'No. I remembered considering it, but it was eight in the evening and Dr. Booster's office was closed. I also recognized Dr. Booster's signature. Even though the amount was strange, it seemed authentic.'
I sniffled, puzzling it over.
'Catching a cold?' Steve asked.
'Not on purpose.'
'I'd suggest an over-the-counter antihistamine. Stay away from nasal sprays. They're addictive.'
'I'll keep that in mind.' I handed him my card. 'If it's convenient I'd like you to come in after work today and sit down with a police artist. See if we can get a picture of this guy.'
'I really don't remember him.'
'Our artist is good at helping people remember. This is extremely important, Steve. This Charles Smith has been linked to the brutal murders of two people. Anything at all you can give us is more than we had before.'
He nodded, promising to stop by. Herb and I left to the sour looks of the people we'd cut in front of. One old woman in particular gave me a sneer that could curdle milk. I considered sneering back, but that would be petty. We left the hospital without incident.
'What about the candy?' I asked Benedict when we got into my car. 'What happened to giving it to sick kids?'
'I decided that candy is bad for the teeth and generally all-around unhealthy. Not something sick kids should be exposed to.'
'How gallant of you, bearing that unhealthy burden all yourself.'
'Want one?'
'Yeah. If you can part with it.'
'Just one. I'm looking out for your health, Jack.'
He handed me a candy bar and I pulled out of the parking lot. Keeping one hand on the wheel, I tore the wrapper off with my teeth and was about to pop it into my mouth when Herb yelped.
At first I thought he was vomiting.
But it wasn't vomit.
It was a lot of blood.
Chapter 9
HERB GOT ELEVEN STITCHES IN THE mouth. A shot of Novocain made it painless, but watching the curved needle stitch in and out of his squirming tongue was torture to see. I could have waited by the emergency room entrance, but I wanted to witness what some sick bastard had done to my friend.
'Thanth.' Benedict nodded at the doctor when the last knot was tied.
I eyed the bloody candy bar in the metal tray next to Herb's bed. The edge of an X-Acto knife peeked out through the caramel, shining in the fluorescent light.
'One more favor, Doc. I know this is unorthodox, but I don't have access to an X-ray machine at the station.'
I explained my request and he agreed, sending me and Herb out into the waiting room. While Benedict filled out forms, I went through my mental files of all the enemies I'd made throughout my life.
There were more than I'd care to mention. Anyone I'd ever busted from my patrol days up until now could have nursed a grudge. I've also pissed off a few people in my personal life. But I couldn't think of anyone, even murderers
