Free Body Parts (Rye & Claire 1) by Kit Crumb Page B

Rosie. “Thank God she was oiled up. She must have known who her partner was going to be.”
    “Thanks for the ride,” Michael said over his shoulder as he stepped from the scene.
    “Hey fuck you,” she said, and
stomped off the set. She pulled on her terrycloth robe, and confronted
Von Seagram. “See what that son-of-a-bitch did to me? He coulda torn me
up and that sure as fucking hell weren’t in my script. I’m outta here.”
    She turned and walked away without giving him a chance to respond.
    When Von Seagram looked over
for Rosie’s response, she was gone. He looked down at the clipboard
she’d been holding, and at a harshly scrawled message she’d left on the
storyboard.
    “You see that? Absolutely no gratitude,” Michael said shaking his head in mock concern. “Hey I hope you got the shot.”
    “Give it a rest Michael, Rosie wants to see you in her trailer ASAP,” Von Seagram said.
    Michael walked from the set,
pulled on a terrycloth robe, paused to tighten it, then knocked on the
trailer door. He was surprised to see the owner of the company answer
the door in a similar robe.
    “Ah, hey Miss Rehnquist. Von Seagram said you wanted to see me.”
    “Yeah, thanks for coming so
soon.” Rosie stepped back, inviting Michael to come in. “Can I offer you
some coffee? Sorry I don’t have anything stronger.”
    “Nah. That’s ok. I’m good.”
    “Michael, let me get right to
the point. You don’t stick to the script and I’m losing girls because
of you,” Rosie said, as she set the little box she’d been holding on the
coffee table.
    “Well maybe I’m a little more then they can handle, if you know what I mean.”
    Rosie retained her best stone face. “Oh, I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
    Michael gave a silly grin. “Well, you know I’m Italian, right?” He gave a little thrust with his hips.
    “Ok you’re Italian,” she said, keeping the blank look on her face.
    “Like I said, maybe I’m more then they can handle.”
    That was Rosie’s cue. She walked up to Michael and untied his robe. He never saw the syringe she held against her left wrist.
    “Let’s just take a look.” She
stood staring at his growing erection, letting her own robe fall off
her shoulders. With Michael fully distracted, she reached out with her
right hand as if to pull him into an embrace and thrust the needle deep
into his neck.
    Michael convulsed several times.
    “You just scared the shit
out of me, baby,” Rosie said, jabbing a second needle deep, filling the
vein with pure heroin. “That’s for all the girls, you bastard.”
    Michael’s eyes grew wide then slowly closed.
    Chapter Fourteen
    The vintage ambulance sped
along the Oregon I-5 corridor north from Medford. No sirens, just a
simple blue light spinning to keep the police away. If pulled over, all
their papers were up to date and indicating the transport of an organ.
Besides, police rarely pull over a speeding ambulance.
    Derrick looked over at
Hubble. If there was ever a man of few words, it was Hubble. He rarely
said anything beyond what was needed. Derrick didn’t trust him.
    He loosened his seat harness;
it would be a long drive to Exit 40, which would take them to the coast
and the town of Denton. He slid his hips out so he could slump into the
seat and closed his eyes—not to sleep, but to try and figure out how he
had gone from a respected anesthesiologist working at a clinic
designated for donor organ extraction, to a murderer.
    Simms, a doctor no one seemed
to have heard of, had originally recruited him out of his internship at
Medford General. It was to be a prestigious and lucrative position
working in a private clinic. He was to assist, in his capacity as
anesthesiologist, with the removal of organs from donors. He was told
that some went directly to recipients, others to universities.
    He opened his eyes and
looked back over at Hubble, seat harness pulled tight, hands on the
steering wheel