Doctor Who_ The City of the Dead - Lloyd Rose [3]
The man's eyes flicked for a moment to Chic. 'I could see a hand. I thought perhaps he was ill or passed out, so I ran round to the back. The door was open.'
"The perp broke in that way. You walked all over the footprints.'
'I know,' sighed the man. 'I'm sorry. I moved around as little as possible once I found he was dead: I went up to the phone, then, when the officer and the photographer arrived, I came back here.' His manner was disarmingly guileless.
'Beasley says you're a "Dr Smith".'
'Dr John Smith,' the man affirmed, without a trace of irony.
'What's your specialty?'
'I'm not a medical doctor,' Smith said. 'It's more of an honorary title, I believe.'
'You believe?' Rush echoed, but, before he could ask how anyone could be uncertain about what struck him as a pretty basic fact, the front door opened. An elderly man on crutches edged awkwardly in, shrugging off an offer of assistance from the policeman stationed outside. Rust stepped quickly around the corpse and started toward him. 'You don't want to come back here, Mr Thales.'
'Oh, dear God.' Thales stopped in alarm and distaste. 'The body's still here.'
"The coroner's late -'
'Oh, I don't like this at all.' Thales turned away, bumping into the box of child's bones. They clattered on to the floor. 'Really, Lieutenant, I am always ready to help the police but this is too much.'
'I'm sorry,' said Rust. 'I thought everything would be cleared out before you got here.'
Thales was floundering back toward the door. Somehow, unobtrusively, Dr Smith was at his elbow. 'I believe I noticed a cafe just at the corner.
Perhaps we could wait for Lieutenant Rust there.'
Through the dirty plate-glass window Rust saw the coroner's old Chevy cough up to the kerb. 'Go ahead. I'll be along directly'
When he got to the cafe half an hour later, he found Thales and Smith at a small table in the courtyard. Thales had propped his metal crutches against the wall behind him. He was shivering and looked exhausted . How old was he, anyway? Rust wondered. At least seventy. 'You know, this can wait,' he said.
'Well, what do you want anyway?' Thales snapped. 'You may as well go ahead and tell me. Sit down.' Rust sat, stretching his legs out comfortably.
Thales fixed him with his watery eyes. 'The human body is very poorly put together.'
'Well, that's one way to look at it,' Rust said. 'Would that be your opinion too, Dr Smith?'
'Just Doctor,' said the man. Great, thought Rust, one name. Like Madonna or something. The guy had probably given up some legitimate profession and become an artist. New Orleans drew second-lifers just like Los Angeles. 'It's very vulnerable, I've always thought.'
'It's a horror,' said Thales. 'All fluids and tubes and decaying tissue.' He lowered his head as if he were about to cry. Old age talking, Rust reflected with some sympathy. His own heart was dodgier than it should have been at his age. He cast a professional eye at the Doctor. Late thirties to look at, but Rust got the feeling he was actually older.
'Mr Thales, as I said -'
'I'm fine,' said Thales. 'Kindly don't patronise me.' He took a swallow of coffee, then sat staring into the cup.
The Doctor touched a strand of the brilliant purple bougainvillea that fell down the brick wall. 'Full bloom in October,' he murmured appreciatively.
Rust took note of the long fingers that looked as though they could, with equal skill, pluck music from a harp or your wallet from your pocket.
'First time in New Orleans?'
'I think so,' said the Doctor candidly. In the autumn sunlight, his pale eyes were a startling greenish-blue. 'I had rather a bad accident some time back.
It left holes in my memory'
Rust hoped that 'accident' wasn't a euphemism for shock therapy: there was definitely something off about the man. He didn't seem threatening, though. More the contrary.
'The Doctor is