A Caduceus is for Killing Read Free Page B

new gray and mauve velvet chairs and highly polished oak tables in the visitor's waiting area. Beautiful, but within six months they'd be antiques. Names and epithets would soon be carved into the expensive oak tables and the darkened velvet matted with filth. This wasn't a posh West Omaha hospital, no matter how hard they tried to give that impression. Dorlynd served the poor, who not only went there for health care, but usually hung out in the lobby trying to stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Unattended rag-tag children ran the halls. Although no one publicly admitted it, fact was, other Omaha hospitals wouldn't touch the poor. They were immediately transported to Dorlynd.
    Krastowitcz checked his note pad. Fifth floor, Medicine Department, Chairman's Office. He entered the crowded elevator and pushed five. The aroma of stale sweat, tobacco, gin--or was it whiskey?--and onions wafted up surrounding his face, almost smothering him. The door opened, and he pushed his way through the crowded elevator to the fifth floor lobby and fresher air. He followed the large painted arrow pointing the way and entered a set of glass doors marked "Administrative Offices." In the corner, clusters of women huddled together, tearfully whispering to each other. A large, saltwater aquarium in the center of the waiting area, bubbled with blue and yellow clown-fish. Running his hand over the stuffed chairs, he realized the covering was beige leather.
     Wow! Real leather . Evidently the dregs of life hadn't made it this far.
    Another Dorlynd security guard directed traffic.
    Several uniformed police officers circled around Sergeant Sam "Trent" Trenton, his best friend and uniformed field investigator, already on the scene. A shock of black, curly hair hooded Trenton's dark eyes. Tiny creases gathered at the corners, suggesting a smile, a smirk, a royal smart-ass waiting for an opportunity to jibe.
    The entire area had been roped off. Krastowitcz entered the inner office and Trenton pulled him aside.
    "You're not going to believe this shit. When I got here, I found a woman, covered with goop, huddled in the corner of the room staring off into space. She's the Chief Resident," he flipped a page of his notebook. "Dr. Andrea Pearson."
    "Yeah? What else?"
    "Found her boss draped over the toilet, managed to literally swim in his shit and knock him on top of her. Wait'll you see in the bathroom. You won't believe it."
    "You, my dear WOP friend are just like your father--always exaggerating."
    They walked side by side. Sam Trenton was a second generation Omaha police officer. His full-blooded Italian mother had fallen instantly for his father. A New York police officer, he'd reluctantly removed to Omaha narrowly escaping a Mafia grudge just because he wouldn't go along with the take. Sam Senior, had been tall, blond, and powerful and Nina Sutera was no match for the street-wise cop who usually got his wish.
    Sam, Junior, favored his mother's dark coloring. The only resemblance Sam bore to his Irish father was his height. At six-foot five the younger man was one of the tallest officers in Omaha. Krastowitcz held the record. In their rookie days, they were often assigned the more difficult cases--the ones nobody wanted, the criminally insane, hostages, or hyped-up druggers.
    He and Krastowitcz stalked past the crowded outer office into a small inner room. "Trent, has the area been kept clear?"
    "Shit," Trenton said. "You can see everyone's footprints in the blood. Everyone around here, except the perp's. We don't have much to go on. Not a fresh print. Nothin'. Looks like we've got our work cut out for us."
    "Again." Krastowitcz continued through the adjoining door-way and entered a much larger office. The familiar odor of decomposing flesh and old shit greeted him. It never failed to remind of his rookie days when he'd been the first officer to