Dali Christ of St. John of the Cross

Cedars-Sinai Medical Center was on Beverly Boulevard in a part of Los Angeles that wanted to be Beverly Hills. They arrived at 2:18.They located Dr. Gerald Fitzmartin in the ICU, but they weren’t permitted to see him. In the waiting room, the professor’s son was pleased to have a distraction, though he couldn’t imagine why didn’t live in a glitzy neighborhood of multimillionaires because he never wanted to have to explain the origins of his to the tax authorities. When you make it in cash, you live without flash.He laundered enough income to justify a spacious four-bedroom, two-story house of no architectural distinction in a clean and pleasant upper-middle-class neighborhood in Sherman Oaks.Only a handful of Mick’s most trusted police officers would want to talk to his father.Professor Fitzmartin was sixty-honest living, older men rarely turned to crime in their retirement. It and with passing kidney stones.Besides, just this morning, Fitzmartin had undergone quadruple heart-bypass surgery. If he was Rolf Reynerd’s conspirator, he would not be killing movie stars in the immediate future.Ethan checked his watch. 2:34. Tick, tick, tick.