"Patrick Tilley - Mission" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tilley Patrick)

I've got a sister, Bella, who's married to a dentist up in Boston. She used to play cello with the
Philharmonic but now she's into kids and clambakes. My parents live in Florida. They were always
writing to tell me I should visit them more often and that I should holiday in I)isney World. I
didn't like to tell them that I preferred Fritz the Cat to Mickey Mouse and that I hadn't been to
synagogue since Bella's wedding. End of life story. There's more, of course, but we don't need to
get into that here.
Let's get back to where I got involved in this thing. The Manhattan ~ieneral. I had arranged to
pick up Miriam between nine-fifteen and nine-thirty. the plan was to have dinner and catch a late
movie by
that German guy Fassbinder. I find him a little heavy but Miriam is completely hooked on the art
movie scene. It had been raining hard and I'd had some trouble in getting a cab. As a result, I
didn't arrive at the Manhattan General until nine-fiftyish. She wasn't waiting at the desk. The
duty nurse, who knew who I was, phoned around and located Miriam in the morgue. I tried to figure


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out what she was doing there. Normally, she works in Emergency and I know she hates losing out.
Miriam told the nurse that she'd be right up.
I ducked out to look for a cab, but there was nothing in sight. As I walked back into the
building, Miriam stepped out of the elevator. I always liked seeing her in her white coat with a
stethoscope round her neck. I guess it was because it made me feel like a responsible citizen and
because I knew that my parents. would approve if they'd known about her. Which they didn't. Or
that when she got that white coat and the rest of her things off, she was a really great piece of
ass.
We gave each other a hello-type kiss, then she took my arm and walked me away from the desk. 'We
may be stuck here for a little while. Did you make a reservation?'
'No,' I said. 'I wasn't planning on going anywhere fancy. Have you got some kind ofcrisis - or are
we just going to sneak off and get stiff on lab alcohol?'
'Neither,' replied Miriam. 'Listen, an ambulance on an NYPD call brought in a man about half an
hour ago. It turned out that he was a DOA who should have gone to the city morgue but - ' she
shrugged.' - maybe they thought we could give him the kiss of life. Anyway, there was something
about him that really threw me. I want you to take a look and tell me what you think.' She hit the
elevator button.
I grimaced. 'You mean - in the morgue?'
'Yes.' She smiled. 'Hey, that's something I've never asked you. Have you seen dead bodies before?'
'I've seei~ a couple of car crashes,' I said. 'But they were mainly blood and feet sticking out
from the blankets.'
The elevator came. Miriam ushered me in. 'I)on't worry. He's still in one piece.'
I eyed her warily. 'You promise? No messy exit wounds?'
'No. Nothing like that.' She took hold ofmy hand and lead me out oft he elevator when it reached
the basement. "Ihis way, l)r Resnick. I'll get you a white coat.'
Smart move. Putting me in a white coat meant that I couldn't pass
II
out without looking foolish. I composed myself as we entered the morgue and walked over to where
the body lay half-covered by a sheet on an autopsy table. What they call the slab.
Miriam introduced me to the doctor who was carrying out the postmortem examination on the body. A
guy called Wallis. A grey-haired chain-smoker who looked as though he'd seen it all. There was
also a young intern with Harpo Marx hair hovering in the background. His name was Lazzarotti. He