Chapter Excerpt
(c) Copyright Mary F Carruthers
"Mr. Vincennes was being packed up and
hauled in a stretcher into a waiting van that emblazoned the Sycamore Hills
Rest Home on its side when the officials from the State Department
arrived. The van went off and turned the
corner into the busy street and Mr. Vincennes was sleeping like a baby
ensconced in a flannel blanket and his hands folded over his chest.
The
receiving clerk at the front of the hospital lobby looked up at the three men
who came through the door. One of the
men had an earpiece and the other one next to him looked around with
apprehension in his eyes. The third man
was more focused on talking to the clerk.
As they approached, she drew back instinctively.
"We're
looking for Oscar Vincennes' room. Do
you have that information?"'
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