Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

was a doctor. The music stopped abruptly.
    The killer took in the scene, assessing his options. Too many witnesses. He’d better cut his losses. The injured woman wouldn’t be able to clearly identify him—it had been rainy and dark.
    Besides, he’d take care of her soon enough.
    He turned away from the strip bar and headed down the street towards Dupont Circle. Once he was a few blocks away, he paused under a streetlight to pull the gazelle’s small purse from his jacket. He’d stopped to pick up the handbag, which was one of the reasons she’d outrun him.
    At least that’s what he told himself.
    He flipped open the wallet, quickly reading through the information on her driver’s license. Marie Claire Lambert, 30, Georgetown address. And keys to let him in.
    The man’s mouth twisted upward in a cruel smile. “You’re dead, Marie Claire.”

Chapter 4

O fficer Reggie Garfield had responded to calls at the Suds ’n Studs before. When it came over the radio that a woman was down in front of the entrance, he figured this would be a fairly routine incident involving Friday night, alcohol, and a boisterous strip club. Backup was on the way, and the ambulance was a couple of minutes behind him. It should be an open-and-shut report. He figured to be back on the streets before 2 A.M.
    Garfield stepped out of his patrol car. He automatically moved to put the nightstick in its belt loop, shifting his love handles briefly when they interfered with this process. He grabbed the shoulder microphone to radio back that he had arrived on the scene. His first job would be to find someone who knew what had happened. He went down the stairs to get a look at the victim and start gathering information.
    “Stand back, everybody, coming through.” The words came automatically from Garfield’s mouth.
    He saw a huge, heavily muscled guy in a sea of females. “You the bouncer? Get everyone back in the club and clear the way for the paramedics.” He pitched hisvoice louder. “Ladies, the show is over, please go back inside and let us do our job.”
    The crowd reluctantly began breaking up. Most of the women stopped just inside the open double doors to the club, milling and chatting about how awful it was, stretching their necks to get one last glimpse of the scene.
    “You a nurse?” he asked a woman who had remained crouched next to the unconscious victim, monitoring her pulse.
    The woman looked up in brief irritation but kept a hand on the victim’s shoulder as if to hold her down. “No, I’m a doctor. Third-year resident.” When the officer looked surprised, she rolled her eyes. “They do have female doctors, you know.”
    He sighed. Great—attitude to go along with his late-night call. He got out his notebook. “She slip down the steps, then?”
    “I don’t know. Some women came out of the club and said they found her at the bottom of the stairs. Nobody knows her. She took a hell of a blow to the back of her head, but I’m not sure if it was on the stairs.”
    Garfield raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think she just fell in the rain? Maybe had too much to drink?”
    “I’ll tell you what I do know—the victim has a serious head wound. She was disoriented and incoherent, and kept trying to get up when I first arrived. She’s got no ID, no purse. And look here—she’s barefoot and there are cuts all over the soles of her feet.” The doctor lifted a white bar towel that had been wrapped around the victim’s feet. She paused, then spoke softly. “She was also saying some pretty scary stuff.”
    The cop came to attention. Leaning over to look at the woman’s dirty, bloodied feet, he made notes in his book.
    “What kinda stuff?”
    “They were broken phrases. Like I said, she was disoriented. I did catch a couple of them, though. ‘He killed her. I saw them, at the school. Run!’She repeated that last one while struggling to sit up. We had to get the bouncer to hold her down.”
    “She seems quiet now—think she’ll be all right?” Garfield paused in his note-taking.
    “I don’t know.” The young doctor reached again to take the victim’s pulse. “I’m not a neurologist. She lost consciousness just before you arrived, but her vital signs are stable. She needs to get to a hospital and have a CT scan done. If the injury is severe enough, she might need surgery.”
    The doctor gently pushed back wet black curls from the woman’s white face, then checked her pupils with the bouncer’s