On Call: An Original Short Story Read Online Free PDF Page B

the affair. That’s why you gave her a third ownership of Medtransit.”
    “No, it’s not true.”
    “Admit it!” I was screaming now, shaking violently, face flush with rage. I dug the barrel of the gun against his temple. “You get until three. The first shot is going to be through your hip. Okay, one.”
    “Please, Gabe,” Radcliffe begged. “You don’t have to do this.”
    George began to whimper.
    “Two.”
    “No! God! No!” Radcliffe cried.
    “Three…” I cocked the hammer and aimed at his right hip.
    Radcliffe fell onto the ceramic shards on the floor, sobbing. “It was me,” she blurted out. “It was me, I killed the bitch. I did it.”
    I lowered the pistol. “You arranged a meeting with her in room six and paralyzed her with a sudden shot of succinylcholine, didn’t you?”
    “How did you—?”
    “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Forty seconds and she could barely move. When the paralysis had partially worn off, you were able to strangle her without a struggle. Then, last night, when I told you I was going to the police about George, you couldn’t face losing him, and tried to kill me.”
    “It was all that bitch, Stern. She turned his head when all she wanted from him was his money and another notch in her belt. She was sick and she deserved to die, and I’m glad I did it.”
    I handed Kincaid the gun. “Don’t worry, George. Like I told you when we set this up, I pulled the firing pin years ago.”
    “Gabe, what about the DNA from Lou?” he asked.
    I looked down at Radcliffe, who was bleeding at the knee through her pajamas and glaring up at me with brimstone eyes. “Want to tell him, Hannah? Might as well…Okay, I’ll tell him. It all came clear to me last night when I decided to believe that Lou couldn’t have committed murder, no matter what the evidence to the contrary. Ironically, it’s the lab you designed years ago that I helped you run with the second-year students, where they take samples of one another’s buccal smears for DNA analysis. You kept the frozen samples and then, when you decided to kill Annabelle, remembered that one of those samples was from Lou when he was a second-year.”
    “You have no proof,” she said.
    I laughed and unbuttoned my shirt enough to show her the wires. “Even if I didn’t have you on tape, we have the nail extender that broke off when you tried to bludgeon me to death, as well as your fingerprints taken from the pipe. Guys, I think it’s time.”
    The front door opened, and Detectives Anderson and Rodriquez entered the kitchen, along with a flood of police. George Kincaid made no attempt to help his wife up so she could be handcuffed.
    Kincaid buried his face in his hands. “I loved Annabelle,” he said. “We were going to get married. Hannah knew I was leaving her, but I didn’t think her anger would lead to murder.”
    “Well, maybe the one-third stake Annabelle had in your business pushed her over the edge.”
    “Annabelle never blackmailed me, Gabe. I did that out of love.”
    I flashed on all the men and women pining for Annabelle in her big box of love notes. “Well, I guess love can make us do some pretty unpredictable things,” I said.

    Two days later, Los Tres Médicos were together once again. A bunch of the senior residents had gathered at McSorely’s Extra Special Watering Hole, our unofficial hospital bar, to celebrate Lou’s release from prison. In light of the tragic events—one murdered chief resident and one jailed chief of pathology—I thought it was in somewhat poor taste to hang a WELCOME HOME JAILBIRD banner behind the bar. Nobody else shared my sentiment. Annabelle Stern may have had many lovers, but she hadn’t made many friends among the staff.
    “To Lou,” I said, raising my goblet.
    Paul, Lou, and I clinked glasses. My Diet Coke tasted flat, but I didn’t complain. Life was inching toward normal. Justice had been served, at least in part. Annabelle Stern, despite all her failings—and