Body Parts (Rye & Claire 1) (14 page)

Claire made a point of
opening the door, stepping out and turning to close it. “So we need to
determine if he’s staff, and if not, then pay a visit to his office.”

They headed straight for the
elevator and the administrator’s office. When the elevator door opened,
Rye turned to usher Claire in but she was gone. He spotted her down the
hall and joined her there.

Facing them, staring back
from a photo hanging on the wall, was a young man with a big smile,
stethoscope around his neck, wearing a white smock. It was Doctor Frank
Mason.

Rye smiled. “Staff surgeon.”

“May I help you?” someone asked.

Startled, Claire spun around
even before Rye could respond. “We’re trying to locate the new surgeon
but don’t see his picture on the wall of fame here.”

The nurse gestured at the
wall as if she were selling it. “There have been no new additions to the
surgical staff. Do you have a name? Maybe the doctor you’re looking for
isn’t a surgeon.”

Rye stepped away from the
wall and extended his hand to the nurse. “I’m Rye Anderson and this is
my partner Claire. We own Mad Dash Ambulance. We brought in a DOA and
were met by a doctor and now the body’s missing. He wasn’t wearing a
name tag.”

The nurse lead them to an alcove with a small couch and one chair.

“What did he look like?

Claire spent the next five minutes describing the mystery doctor.

“That sounds like Doctor Simms,” the nurse said.

Claire and Rye exchanged looks.

Claire scooted forward sitting on the edge of the couch. “You know him?”

“Not exactly. I remember him
because he came to the hospital and tried to recruit a surgical nurse
and anesthesiologist. He met with each of us. Offered me better pay and
full health. Said I’d work with a small staff at a private clinic.”

Claire smiled. “Sounds great. Why didn’t you accept the offer?”

The nurse fidgeted, uncrossed
and re-crossed her legs. “It seemed too good to be true and I would
have been assisting in organ donor transplants. I’m a surgical nurse;
I’ve got no interest in cookie cutter surgery.”

Suddenly, the nurse looked at
her watch. “So sorry, but I’m assisting with an appendectomy in thirty
minutes and have to meet with the doctor in fifteen.” Standing, she
turned and hurried down the hall.

Claire slouched back into the couch. “Well, now at least we’ve got a name and a positive ID.”

* * *

The sign on the door read
Jeff Olden, Assistant Administrator. Rye raised his hand to knock,
Claire grabbed his wrist. “Do you think this is really wise?”

Rye shook his hand free and
walked her to one side. “Simms couldn’t have met with staff without
permission from Olden. We need to find out if he got any takers. When we
find this clinic, we’ll find Rusty.”

Claire shook her head. “I
don’t think so. Rusty is probably long gone by now. We need to find out
if Mason took Simms’s offer then changed his mind. He sure looked like
an organ donor to me.”

Just then, the door opened and Jeff Olden emerged. “I wondered what all the whispering was. Why don’t you two come in?”

The office was dark, lit only
by a desk lamp. The mahogany paneled walls matched the large desk and
were covered with darkly framed certificates. Olden walked around behind
the desk and slid his foot around until he found the dimmer switch. As
the ceiling lights came up, the glass framed certificates twinkled a
reflection.

“There, that’s better. Please
have a seat. I assume you came by to check on the status of Rusty
Kidding.” He looked first to Rye then Claire, hands folded and resting
in the middle of the desk blotter.

“Not exactly.” Rye turned to defer to Claire but she nodded that he should continue. “We know who took the body.”

Olden sat up straighter. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Do you have a name?”

“Doctor Peter Simms.”

He sat even straighter and leaned forward. “That’s ridiculous.”

Rye matched his stare. “A surgical nurse confirmed Claire’s description of the man that took the DOA.”

Olden sat back refolding his
hands over his stomach. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake. Doctor Peter
Simms owns his own clinic and is in the business of giving critically
ill individuals a second chance at life through the gift of donated
organs.”

Claire stood up, placing both hands on the desk. “Wasn’t Frank Mason one of the surgeons recruited?”

Olden stood and walked around
the desk, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t believe he was, but
Doctor Mason was under investigation by the hospital board.”

She shook off his hand. “You’re aware that he’s dead, that he was eviscerated and that his liver is missing?”

Olden paused mid stride. “The
police haven’t contacted us, but I do know he didn’t show up for his
shift this morning…” he continued to the door. “I think you had better
let the police do the investigating. Doctor Simms could in no way have
anything to do with either the death of Frank Mason or the missing DOA.”

Claire took a step in Olden’s
direction ready to argue her point, but stopped when he held up his
hand. “This conversation is over.” He started to open the door. Then
ignoring Claire, turned to face Rye. “You know, I feel I’ve been quite
generous in not terminating your license.” He opened the door and
standing like a statue until they left, quietly closed it behind them.

Claire whirled on Rye who
shook his head, pointing down the hall. When they reached the elevator,
the door was just opening, the car empty. When the bell rang and the
door closed she slammed her fist against the brass rail.

“He didn’t even care that
there might be a connection between Mason’s death and Simms’s
occupation. And that remark at the door, what was that blackmail? Butt
out or I’ll yank your license? And where the hell were you during all
this?”

Rye leaned over and pressed the “G” button without saying a word, folded his arms and glared at her.

“OK, OK,” she said as she backed into the corner. “What do we do now?

Rye unfolded his arms. “I
think we can forget any cooperation from the hospital. And I think if we
find Simms’s clinic we’ll know what happened to the DOA and Mason.”

Claire was looking at the
floor, nodding her head. The door to the elevator binged open. “What
about the girl who asked you for help, and the fact that she and Mason
were both on a porn tape? He’s dead and she may be well on her way to
the organ factory.”

They walked in silence through a throng of people gathered around a man being wheel chaired through the entrance.

Rye reached the car first,
taking a minute to stretch, twisting first one way then the other.
“Finding Simms and the clinic will resolve everything,” he said, “and
the girl who asked for help is the thread that will lead us there.”

Claire opened the door and climbed in. “Yeah, now all we have to do is get to her before Simms.”

Chapter Twenty Three

The slab of meat on the platter oozed blood
.
The man eyed it for a moment, then rotated the platter once before
finally sinking his fork into it and cutting next to the bone.

“God, Paul, I don’t see how you can eat steak that raw. And what about mad cow disease?” Rye said.

Paul Casey chewed with a smile on his face then took a drink of his pale ale, swallowed and looked at Rye with a grin.

“First of all, this is a
once-in-a-blue-moon meal, a celebration for having just collected on the
biggest case of my career. As for mad cow, this is Harris Beef—open
range, grass fed, the absolute best there is. Now, let’s get down to
business. What’s on your mind?”

“Did you read about the four-car pileup on I-5 the other day?”

Paul chewed on a piece of steak and just nodded.

“Claire and I were
dispatched, and in the middle of stitching one of the victims back
together, this young woman grabs me by the arm, looks me in the eye and
says, ‘Help me,’ then walks away. But when I go over to her van she
doesn’t have a scratch on her, isn’t in shock and the guy she’s with
whisks her off, but not before she slips a video tape into my jump kit.”

“Take a breath, Rye. Was Claire with you? And what’s a jump kit?” Paul asked, shoving another peace of steak into his mouth.

“Claire said she only vaguely
remembers the woman, and a jump kit is the giant fishing tackle box
that holds all the first aid items I might need while I’m away from the
ambulance. Anyway, I’m at Phil Panther’s bachelor party, they start
playing a couple of porn tapes—and she’s on one of them! And the tape
she slipped into my jump kit is from a security camera focused on the
back of a porn set.”

Rye paused to take a couple bites of his salad.

“OK, I’m starting to get the
picture. Some buxom beauty gets caught up in a porn ring and she bats
her baby blues at you asking for help and you melt. What’s a guy to do?”

Rye glared at Paul over the
top of his mug of tea and took a sip to wash down his salad. “I don’t
think you have the picture at all. This woman looked to be about
eighteen or nineteen tops, and appeared to be anything but a hooker.”

Paul just shook his head.
“Thousands of young women break into pornography every year; most are
never heard from again, many become involved with drugs or prostitution.
But I’ll get off my soapbox now. Unless next of kin files a missing
person report, there is nothing for me to do.” Paul finished his
statement by stuffing another peace of steak in his mouth.

“Sure, fine.” Rye paused for
effect. “I understand what you’re saying, but here’s the kicker. Claire
and I were coming back from Raven Reservoir and spotted a blue sports
car in a ravine off of Hillsboro Drive, it looked new so we checked it
out. The driver was one of the guys in the other porn tape at Phil’s
party. Not only was he dead but he was eviscerated, someone had cut out
his liver.” Rye sat back expectantly.

“I don’t know what to tell
you. These people who do pornography are generally the scum of the
earth. Occasionally, I’m sure some small town cheerleader gets tangled
up with the wrong people, you know, promised instant fame and big money.
Still, others like your guy in the car get the ugly end of the stick.
Nothing to be done, nothing I can do. And definitely nothing you can
do.” Paul pushed the platter toward the edge of the table, empty except
for a bone.

Chapter Twenty Four

He felt her foot rub up and down his calf
. In turn, he snaked a hand down until it found her buttocks. Claire was on her side.

Slowly he rolled on his side to spoon, his hand cupping her breast.

“You know Rye, this is a really good book and you’re distracting me,” she said, closing the book, her finger holding the place.

“How was I supposed to know that you were reading?” Rye asked, in a mock indignant tone.

“You didn’t notice the reading light?”

In answer, Rye dropped his hand from her breast and stuck a finger in her navel. Claire shrieked and rolled onto her stomach.

“Do you mind?” she said

“Just checking for navel fuzz.”

Claire laughed, put her book
on the floor and rolled over onto her back. “So, I gather that you don’t
want to read and you’re not sleepy, which means you must want to talk.”

That was not exactly what Rye had in mind, but he took her up on her offer anyway.

“I was just thinking about
the girl on the tape and then finding that dead guy who was also on a
porn tape by the same company. What if she comes up dead?” Rye said.

“I think Paul was right;
there’s nothing you can do. Let it go. Take the tapes back to the Foxy
Lady, they’re probably late by now, and forget the whole thing,” Claire
said, leaning over and nibbling on Rye’s neck. “You learn any new moves
from those tapes?”

“C’mon, Claire,” Rye said,
pulling the covers up to his chin. It’s not just the circumstances of
knowing two people who do porn, the girl actually asked me for help.
That changes everything.”

Claire rolled away from Rye to lie on her back again. “OK, what would you like to do about it?”

“I think the starting point
for me is to track down the company that made the tape. I’m thinking of
flying down to LA. to see what I can dig up.” Rye turned on his side to
make sure he had Claire’s attention. “And if you’re up for it, I’d like
you to track down the license number of that Dodge van; I know the fire
department has it.”

“I can‘t really have you
pulling this misdirected waif from the den of inequity all by yourself,
can I? I’m in.” Claire rolled on her side to face Rye. “When was the
last time you were in LA?”

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Twenty-five, thirty years. Not since college.”

“Sounds kind of like a long shot,” Claire said.

He rolled back on his side,
facing her. “I planned on hitting a couple of the porn shops. I figure
they could probably direct me.”

“That at least gives you a starting place, but you didn’t answer my question.”

Puzzled, Rye wasn’t sure what she was referring to. “OK I give, what was the question?”

“I was just curious to know if you learned any new moves from all this porn.”

Rye retained a stone face. “As a matter of fact yes, can you put either foot behind your head?”

“Oh, gross! I should have known better than to ask.”

Rye ducked under the
covers and made a beeline for Claire’s right breast just as she started
to roll onto her back. Wham! Her elbow met his right eye.

“Ouch! I’m blind!”

She rolled over to see what all the yelling was about.

Rye was gingerly feeling the tender tissue just under his eye. “Jesus, you elbowed me in the eye.”

“Oh honey, I’m sorry. Let me
get some ice.” He enjoyed watching her nude figure throw the covers
back, climb out of bed and walk through the door. But he forgot all
about his eye when she returned with the ice.