Read Online The Fall-Down Artist by Thomas Lipinski - Free Book Online Page B

rinsing them in clear water. He wiped his hands on his stained white linen apron. “Somebody stick a little Iron City where his Rolling Rock oughta be?”
    Al’s Bar consisted of a long room with the countertop running along the right, beginning at the entrance from South Seventeenth Street. To the left were three Formica-topped tables, each with four chairs. At the far end was a step-down entrance into a large back room, which held a tiled one-time dance floor and a jukebox. Dorsey and Bernie stood at the center of the bar, a few steps from the beer taps.
    â€œMy friend must have your indulgence,” Bernie said, filling his glass from a Michelob bottle, careful not to splash his newest dark suit. “Have you never before seen the pensive look of the gifted investigator? The man has a theory, a case. He is not merely sneaking pictures or conducting interviews—and, let’s face it, only Johnny and Merv make the big dough holding interviews. But Dorsey here finds a pattern is developing. Now he must unmask the conspirators!”
    â€œLiked it better when you were taking pictures of people in bed,” Al said, leaning across the bar on his elbows.“That way, you showed the films and we all shared in your triumphs.”
    â€œUp yours,” Dorsey said through a mouthful of beer, twisting the green long-necked bottle, illustrating the technique Al was to use.
    â€œBuddy, I’m sorry,” Al said. “Ain’t seen ya in a while, missed givin’ you a hard time.” He waddled to the end of the bar to fill a customer’s glass.
    â€œMust be very important, this case,” Bernie said. “Up yours? Really, that’s not up to standard. It’s a disappointment to those of us who have come to rely on your wit for a reason to live.” Bernie sipped his beer. “So, anyways, last week you were in Johnstown.”
    â€œLast week in Johnstown,” Dorsey said, “was where it finally came up and bit me in the ass. Well, actually, it was this week, when I was in Greensburg and Somerset. Another one of Tang’s patients—the girl in Somerset, I mean. And while I’m going over it there were some locals in Pitcairn and Homestead that need a closer look. If I can get Corso to let me retrace my steps, pay me for it, I could make something out of it. Maybe build your goddamned pattern for you.”
    Bernie tapped his empty bottle on the bar top, signaling for a refill. “This Radovic in Johnstown, I know a little about him. Our firm does the defense work for Fidelity Casualty, just locally. They send cases over, every now and then, for us to look at in the early stages, and me being the lowest man on the totem pole, they all come to me. Radovic was in the last batch. Conjecture is all you have. Maybe the Maynard girl tipped him to the layoff, maybe not. But there’s still the medical from Dr. Tang. You may not like the guy, but you haven’t come up with a way to get around his medical opinion, either.”
    â€œThere’s some fresh reports you haven’t seen,” Dorsey said. Al returned with two beers, collected money from Bernie’s change pile, and leaned forward into the conversation. “The woman out in Somerset,” Dorsey said, “the one who’s Tang’s patient; I filed my report on her. Anyway,she has a history of knee problems; some cartilage had to come out when she was a kid. She worked at this plant where they did specialty steel, and two weeks before the plant is to close she’s in this fender-bender. Neither car has more than two hundred dollars’ worth of damage, but she runs to Dr. Tang, and now she has lateral compartment syndrome. Can’t get around and sure can’t work. She gets a disability check from another carrier, but Fidelity Casualty is on the hook for the auto liability. Lost wages, present and future, services lost to her parents she lives with, maybe she’ll claim