Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
“Did he give you the camera?” I asked.
Marcus nodded slowly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, black digital camera with a long zoom lens. He laid it on the mahogany table as if it were hot.
“It’s his,” Marcus said. “The one he uses for his medical presentations. He told me to zoom in on your face when you come out the side exit. He said he would tell you his car was parked round the back because the front lot was full.”
“And you are supposed to take the photographs while she is looking for the car,” Karen said, her pen hovering over the pad.
“Six photos,” Marcus said. “He said to make sure I got the restaurant sign in the background so the judge could see the location. He said he would give me another three hundred and fifty dollars when I handed him the memory card on Sunday morning.”
“Did he mention Arthur Sterling?” Karen asked, her pen resuming its quick scratching.
“No,” Marcus said, pulling his cuffs tighter. “He just said his lawyer would need the pictures by nine o’clock Monday.”
