by Wally Duff
He was at least a foot taller than the diminutive Cas. He had a long angular face with swept-back graying hair that curled over the collar of his button-down crisp white shirt. His patrician air gave me the feeling that he was a Ralph Lauren model masquerading as a physician.
He was hot, but it was Cas’s demeanor that grabbed my attention. My Taser-using, Raid-spraying pit bull had morphed into a giggling teenager. Gone were her twitching jaw muscles, replaced by a wide smile — something she rarely exhibited. Unexpectedly, she gave the doctor a hug that lasted a little longer than I thought it should have.
Whoa, baby.
From the hall, Linda and Molly witnessed the entire episode. Linda glanced at me and raised her eyebrows. I motioned for her to bring Molly back to the room.
When they reentered, I pointed at Cas and the doctor, who were still chatting. “What do you make of that?”
“I’m not sure,” Linda said. “Maybe they were close friends from when she worked here.”
“I hope that’s all they were, but I’ve never seen her act that giddy.”
“Flirty might be a better term. When she saw him, her face lit up like a new author whose book has been anointed by Oprah.”
“She doesn’t do that with Joe, that’s for sure,” Molly said.
My abdomen ached, so I handed Jason to Linda. “Should we ask her about this?”
Linda began rocking him. “Let’s hope this is an association from another life.”
“And if it’s not?” Linda asked.
“Maybe we’ll have a story we don’t want to write,” I said.
147
A group of physicians wearing long white coats got off the elevator.
“Hey, guys, isn’t that the doc with the expensive sunglasses we saw the last time we were here?” Molly asked.
“You’re correct,” Linda said. “It’s Dr. J. Randall Fertig, Howard’s mother’s breast cancer doctor.”
“Right, the guy who cures all his breast cancer patients,” Molly said.
Fertig saw Cas talking to her doctor-friend and ripped off his sunglasses. He glowered at the doctor. That look made the hairs on my neck stand up.
There was pure hatred in Fertig’s black eyes.
Suddenly, the other doctor looked up and saw Fertig staring at him.
Uh-oh.
The doctor glared back at Fertig.
Man, these two doctors really don’t like each other.
It looked like the beginning of an old-fashioned gunfight that started with a stare-down. If looks could kill, one of the doctors would be dead.
I heard a “ding-dong” about a possible storyline in my brain. But after almost being killed chasing stories the past few weeks, I wanted to shut it down. What sane person wouldn’t?
The answer? Me.
I keep trying to suppress it, but I am an investigative journalist and a sucker for a great story, and until I could prove to myself this wasn’t worth pursuing, I would work on it with my friends.
And it wouldn’t be dangerous. A doctor would never try to harm me or any of the Hamlin Park Irregulars just because we were working on a story about him.
Or would he?
Look for Book 3 in the Hamlin Park Irregulars series
— bada-Boom! —
to learn the answer to Tina’s question.
Here is an excerpt to be published in late fall, 2018.
“Landed over there,” I heard the young police officer say, as I walked up to the scene of the car crash.
The cold early morning Chicago wind blasted in from Lake Michigan, but the stench of smoldering rubber tires and spilled gasoline, mixed with the odor of burned human hair and skin, still fouled the autumn air.
“Must have bounced off the bridge abutment,” he said. “Only way it could have landed behind the car.”
He pointed to a scraggly, misshapen bush on the side of Kennedy Freeway about twenty feet behind the doctor’s mangled car. The vehicle had been totally incinerated in the blaze, and only the smoking metal carcass remained. Even the tires had been vaporized. It was impossible to identify the make of the car.
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen that before,” Detective Tony Infantino said.
I had called Tony, my friend and ex-lover, to meet me so I would have a way to get close to the yellow crime scene tape.
I tugged on Tony’s arm. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Stuff about the accident.”
The cop put his head down and walked toward his patrol car.
“Tony, what’s going on?” I demanded.
“Doc came roaring down the Kennedy going over a buck-twenty.”
“How fast?”
“Over a hundred twenty miles an hour, according to the accident investigators. No problem for a big car like that. Ran directly into the cement bridge abutment. Never hit his breaks.”
“What kind of car was it?”
“According to the DMV registration, it was a Bentley.”
“You’re sure there wasn’t a malfunction of the car?”
“Doubt it.”
“But it could have happened.”
“Could, but doesn’t explain why he wasn’t wearing a seat belt and the air bags didn’t work.”
I pointed at the charred remains of the vehicle. “Does a car usually burn up like this?”
“Only if there’s an accelerant in it.”
“Accelerant?”
“Cans of something, probably gas, in the back seat and the trunk. Car hits the bridge. Bada-bing: fire is first. Becomes a blaze. Then bada-BOOM!: gas tank explodes.”
“Terrible way to die.”
“Dude was a crispy critter. Wasn’t much left of him. Be a quick autopsy.”
“That bad?”
“Worse. They couldn’t tell who was driving the car.”
“Then how was the body ID’d?”
“His head.”
“His head?”
“What that rookie cop was talking about. At first, they couldn’t find it, so the EMT guys put what was left of him in a body bag and took it downtown.”
“But his head was missing?”
He nodded. “When he hit the bridge, the doc went headfirst through the windshield.”
“If he went through all the way, why was he burned so badly?”
“His whole body didn’t quite make it all the way through the windshield.”
“What did?”
“His head.”
“That doesn’t seem possible.”
“In high velocity impacts, bodies frequently get trapped in broken windshields, like the doc’s did. EMT’s pried what was left of his shoulders and the lower part of his neck back out of the glass, but his head was gone.”
“Where did it go?”
“Cop found it an hour ago stuck in the bush over there. Pieces of glass from the shattered window cut it off.”
~
Acknowledgements
It has been said that you aren’t really a writer until you’ve published your second book. If you have finished this book, then I guess that makes me a “real” writer, so I thank you.
It is also said that writing is rewriting, and I can attest to that, especially for the second book of this series. I never dreamed finishing this book would be harder than the first.
The reason it was? I’m not good at keeping track of the facts from boom-BOOM!, like the color of Tony’s BMW or how many blocks away Molly lives from Tina.
But Nancy Cohen is. Without her, this book would have been a mess. Thank you, Nancy, for keeping my facts correct, helping with the story structure, and watching for misplaced commas and grammar mistakes.
Thanks to Shannon Baker, who continues to point out the places in my books that I didn’t research properly (like police procedures). Shannon is a terrific author, and her books, especially her latest, Dark Signal, are a great read. The protagonist of her series, Kate Fox, is different from Tina Thomas, but they share a Nebraska upbringing, meaning they unders
tand Husker football and Scott Frost. GBR!
Louis Romano is a fellow writer I met in Cabo San Lucas. He has encouraged me throughout my writing journey and understands what it is to be a newbie writer. Check out his latest book, Exclusion: the fight for Chinatown.
My new cast member is Jen Maher. She does my online advertising, something I would never attempt on my own. If you need help, she can do it for you, too, at Jen Maher Consulting.
I am so sorry to admit that I didn’t publicly thank Ana Magno in the first book. Ana created the covers of the first two books, and I think they’re amazing. I’m looking forward to the next one for bada-BOOM!
And the Professor, Rich Krevolin. He edited my first book, then called Front Window. Through the many initial edits of all the books, he has never discouraged me, gently pointing out my many missteps. He is a true Renaissance man; a writer of books, poetry, screenplays, and plays, director and producer of movies and documentaries, painter, professional storytelling consultant, college professor, and actor. Check him out online. He has done it all.
To my son-in-law, Jeff Taylor, (Carter Thomas in the books) and my daughter, Tina, (the protagonist in the Hamlin Park Irregulars series): Thanks for providing the inspiration and the setting for these books during the time you lived in Chicago. Readers, you can check out boom-BOOM! by Dr. Wally Duff, the video book trailer on YouTube to see Jeff and Tina’s home in Lakeview, Chicago and the real Hamlin Park.
And to Kerry Taylor, who is a two-year-old in the books. She is now eighteen and attends Scripps. Unlike her language skills in the books, she speaks perfect English and writes far better than I ever will.
To Macy and Nick, Kerry’s sister and brother. Thanks for waiting your turn. You will make an appearance later in the series.
And there is a Fourth Estate wine — two varietals, actually — a pinot noir and a chardonnay. It’s Tina’s other passion. Check it out on fourthestatewinery.com, especially the “about us” section and “delicious pairings.” In that latter section you will find my wife’s recipe: Mindy’s Roast Chicken with Mashed Red or Sweet Potatoes. Try it, with the Fourth Estate Pinot Noir, of course.
To my son, James E. Duff, and his wife, Julia Morrison, who have provided expert advice about the content and pacing of my books. Their indie movie, Hank and Asha, won many film awards including the Napa Film Festival. It’s a wonderful comedic love story with a truthful ending. Watch it: hankandasha.com.
To Brittany Simon, the reporter in the book. She is actually Brittany Haynie, who is married to Luke Haynie and mom to new guy on the block, Jetter.
And to my lovely wife, Mindy, who never complains when I leave her alone to immerse myself in writing these books. For your patience with me, your first literary shout-out will come in the next book, bada-BOOM!, a role which will be even more fleshed out in your favorite book, the fifth one in the series (currently titled Love Changes Everything, but I might fit a “boom” in there somewhere…).
Finally, a little bit about me. I continue to be a full-time otolaryngologist — a fancy name for a nose picker — husband, father, grandfather, magician for birthday parties, exercise nut, and a golfer, which makes me nuts.
The next book, bada-BOOM!, has a strong medical tilt, delving into the treatment of cancer of the breast and how competitive doctors and their wives are with each other, something I have too much experience with.
If you want to discuss boom-BOOM!, déjà-BOOM!, bada-BOOM!, or any of the other upcoming books in the Hamlin Park Irregulars series, please contact me at [email protected] or www.hamlinparkirregulars.com.