Read Online Alien Nation #6 - Passing Fancy by David Spencer - Free Book Online Page A

find it difficult if not impossible to afford the required medication.”
    George tightened his grip on the tie.
    “Gack,” said LeBeque.
    “The unconcerned but diligent mind,” George continued, “might, at the very least, have filled out a restricted prescription to insure that if Ms. Delancey could indeed lay hands on the drug, she could get it from nowhere but a qualified apothecary. Since, in the case of Stabilite, an open prescription is generally regarded as an invitation to charlatans.”
    “Let go of me!” LeBeque gasped.
    “An open prescription to Stabilite,” George concluded, “says ‘Look at me, I’m poor, can you get me a deal?’ ”
    “I’m not responsible for that, now let me go, you’re choking me!”
    Interesting word, choke, George thought. How it sounds so much like Chorboke.
    Casually, Matt said, “What a world, huh? Nobody’s responsible for nothin’.” And, then, touching George’s shoulder lightly, he said, “Let ’im go, George.”
    George snapped open his fist, releasing LeBeque so suddenly that he reeled against the door.
    “That was very good, partner, I’m impressed,” said Matt. He smiled jauntily at LeBeque. “Usually I get to play ‘Bad Cop.’ ”
    LeBeque wagged an admonishing finger at them both, adrenaline rush giving him a new head of steam. “I gave that young lady the best treatment possible, and need I remind you, it was elective surgery and no one twisted her arm!”
    George cocked a hairless eyebrow. “You mean as you tried to do with me just a while ago?”
    “Pah! Salesmanship hardly qualifies as coercion. And you gentlemen have taken my patience to its limit.”
    Matt sighed theatrically. “Man’s right, George, we don’t have anything on him. There’s been no crime committed, at least none on the books, none we can make stick.” He patted LeBeque on his beefy arm, smiled.
    Smiled like a shark.
    “But wouldn’t it be fun to try?”
    LeBeque sputtered. Noises, all ending in question marks.
    “Well, I mean,” Matt explained, “you could try this case in the news media and never have to bother with arrests, paperwork, the expense of a trial. Let the public decide what constitutes negligence. Just present ’em with the facts—that you knowingly performed elective surgery on a patient who couldn’t afford to maintain proper treatment. What do you think, George?”
    “Oh, I think the release of such a story would put a strain on his . . . patients . . . just as he said.”
    “An old pun, but a gem.”
    “All right,” LeBeque spluttered, exasperated. Then, more subdued, trying to recover some dignity, “All right. Clearly you—officers of the law are after something.” He pulled clumsily on his lapels. “How can I —as a law abiding citizen —be of service?”
    The detectives exchanged a look. George took a step toward LeBeque. LeBeque leaned back into the door. Crooking an elbow, George pointed lightly across his chest at Matt. And spoke with exaggerated civility.
    “Write out an open prescription for Stabilite. Make it out to my partner, Matthew Sikes.”
    “That’s Sikes with an i, not a y,” Matt added helpfully.
    LeBeque appraised the features on the human detective’s face with a clinical eye—also evident distaste.
    “And let people think I worked on you?” he asked unpleasantly.
    “Isn’t that cute,” cooed Matt. “A professional scruple . . .”

C H A P T E R   5
    G RAZER WAS TRYNG to dust off his shoes. Or, more appropriately, he was trying, with intense concentration, to lift particles of dust out of them. Piece by piece.
    He had Scotch tape wrapped around his fist, sticky side out, and continually applied the tape to the shoe he was working on
    — crinkle —
    and lifted—
    thwop.
    Applied and lifted.
    Crinkle, thwop. Crinkle, thwop. Crinkle, thwop.
    Every forty-five seconds or so, when the strip of tape had outlived its usefulness, he pulled it off, damning the accretion of stickum on his skin, and wrapped