Terminal (A Lomax & Biggs Mystery Book 5) by Marshall Karp Read Free Book Online Page B

Mike,” the tech behind the counter said. “Terry is in Autopsy Three with Doc Hand.”
    That made me smile. When you’ve watched as many autopsies as I have, it’s only natural to have a favorite pathologist. For me and Terry, it was Eli Hand.
    When I first met Eli, he introduced himself as a recovering rabbi. As a young man he went to rabbinical school, found a congregation, and after two years, realized he could no longer stand listening to other people’s problems.
    “I was like a shepherd who wakes up one morning and thinks, ‘This job would be so much better if it weren’t for all these needy sheep,’” he told me. “One a day, two a day—that I might have tolerated. But it was a steady stream of complainers. Like I was their shrink. At one point I told the president of the synagogue we should change our name to Temple Beth Oy, Do I Have A Problem.”
    So after two years of trying, Eli said farewell to his flock, went to medical school, and picked the one specialty that was a perfect match for his intellect and his temperament. Now in his seventies, he is the most respected pathologist on the morgue staff. “And,” he adds proudly, “not one of my patients has ever complained.”
    I weaved my way past the recently departed and entered Autopsy Three. Eli, Terry, and the two homicide-suicide victims from yesterday were waiting for me.
    “How’s it going?” Terry said.
    “Not so good. Sophie’s grandmother died.”
    Eli looked up from the remains of Cal Bernstein. “So does that mean her mother is coming back from China?”
    “Thursday,” I said.
    He said something softly in Hebrew.
    “What are you mumbling?”
    “
Baruch dayan emet
. Blessed Is the True Judge. If you’ve got the life event, I’ve got the blessing. It comes in handy in my line of work.”
    “Thanks. I’ll tell Carly you said a prayer for her mother.”
    He shrugged his shoulders and gave me a hangdog look. “Mike, she was an old lady, and we all knew she was dying, so the prayer was only maybe ten percent for her. The other ninetypercent was for you and Diana, because I know how you’re going to feel about giving up Sophie.”
    “You’re bumming me out, Doc. Let’s talk about something more upbeat, like those two bodies you’ve been hunched over.”
    Eli stepped back from the table. “It didn’t take much hunching. Dr. Kraus was shot three times, any one of which would have done the trick. Mr. Bernstein, as you saw for yourself, blew his brains out. The parts of his body that were still intact are riddled with cancer. He only had weeks to live himself. My part was easy. You boys have the tough job of figuring out a motive—that’s what I’d like to know.”
    “You and the mayor of Los Angeles,” Terry said. “Apparently Dr. Kraus is the miracle worker responsible for his three grandchildren.”
    “Just what every criminal investigator needs,” Eli said. “A politician looking over your shoulder.”
    “We’ll figure it out,” Terry said.
    “You’re a mensch, Biggs,” Eli said. “The department could use a few more like you and Mike.”
    “Would you mind repeating that? I’ve never heard it before, and I doubt if I’ll ever hear it again.”
    “I mean it. I hate working with cops who either don’t give a crap, or they sweep the loose ends under the rug so they can close a case.”
    “Are you talking about any cops in particular?” I said.
    “You mean like those two assholes over in West LA, Detectives Rubsam and Apovian?” Eli said.
    “Don’t know them,” Terry said. “What’d they do to piss off a rabbi?”
    “I’ll tell you all about it over a cup of coffee,” Eli said. “You got ten minutes?”
    Terry grinned. “Ten minutes? I know you, Eli. Are you sure that’s all we’re going to need?”
    “For starters,” Eli said. “Unless you want to help out a friendand get involved. Then it will take a little more time.”
    “Help out a friend?” Terry said. “Oy, now Eli has a