Detective Jack: S2-04: Doctor Freelove

It took a few more rounds of screaming. But Timmy eventually told me what I wanted:

“Dr. Hemingford.”

Soon, I was in my car, speeding up the 405. Red and blues pulsating. Timmy told me the doctor had paid him to leave the backdoor unlocked. For a special delivery, he said. Just a favor.

I pulled up to the address I had scribbled down. It didn’t look like any doctor’s office I’d seen. It appeared I had landed in a den of free love, like if a hippie commune had opened a doctor’s office and spent considerable energy to avoid maintaining it.

I walked in.

Dr. Hemingford looked me up and down. As he registered my crisp suit, he scowled and barked.

“An appointment??”

I scowled back.

“Sit down, doctor.”

The hippie sat at his desk. Surrounding him were festival posters and handwritten notes. My eyes noted that these scribbles seemed to have names on them. A client roster? Patient privacy was not his concern.

I asked him my typical interrogation questions. It seemed clear, though, that this man would happily spill the beans.

“Why did you ask Timmy to leave the door unlocked?”

“It was the request of a patient.”

I stared at him.

“I always try to give my patients what they want.”

Silence is often the best tool when questioning someone.

I stared for what felt like five minutes.

Finally, I asked, “What patient?”

He looked around (at what, I do not know) and then leaned in.