Doc. Turner's Death Number E-Book

Arthur Leo Zagat

• Herausgeber: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Serie: Doc. Turner Series
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 26

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Doc. Turner's Death Number by Arthur Leo Zagat is a gripping blend of medical mystery and high-stakes suspense. When a renowned physician, Dr. Turner, is found dead under suspicious circumstances, the case quickly turns from an accidental death to a chilling enigma. The key to unraveling the mystery lies in a cryptic number found at the scene—a number that seems to predict the death of the next victim. As a determined investigator digs deeper, they discover a web of deceit, hidden agendas, and a dangerous game of life and death. Will they decode the sinister message in time to prevent further killings, or will the death number claim its next victim? Dive into this enthralling thriller where every clue could be your last.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Doc. Turner's Death Number

Synopsis

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Landmarks

Table of Contents

Cover

Doc. Turner's Death Number

Doc. Turner Series

By: Arthur Leo Zagat

Edited by: Rafat Allam

Copyright © 2024 by Al-Mashreq Bookstore

First published in The Spider, August 1936

No part of this publication may be reproduced whole or in part in any form without the prior written permission of the author

Synopsis

Those numbers brought a horrible death to the cluttered doldrums of Morris Street and told old Doc Turner, guardian of the poor and oppressed, that a new and sinister menace was bleeding his people of their pitiful earnings—was threatening little children with starvation!

1

SHE said tremulously: "They're starving!" Anxiety darkened Ann Fawley's petite, elfin features as her slim, white fingers tapped nervously on the edge of the drugstore counter. "The children in my class and in those of the other teachers are absolutely famished, Dad Turner. They sit and stare at us out of sunken, puzzled eyes. They don't understand what we are trying to teach them because of the awful hunger in their little tummies."

Andrew Turner's white eyebrows knitted, his blue, age-faded eyes squinted through narrowed lids. Beneath the nicotine-stained silver of his bushy mustache his mouth was thin-lipped and bitter. "I know," he murmured. "I've seen them out there on the sidewalks, not playing because they have no strength to play. There are more jobs than there have been for years. The men are working, but the children aren't being fed. It's even worse for the babies."

The old druggist's gaze, bleak and troubled, sought the open door of the ancient pharmacy. Noises seeped in—the shrill chaffer of a beshawled housewife; the raucous, strangely desperate note of a pushcart huckster's cry; the muffled thunder of an "El" train on the trestle straddling the debris-strewn cobbled gutter. The train sound was like the boding rumble of a new menace to the people of the teeming slum. They had somehow won through the long agony of the depression and now, just when a little ray of hope was breaking into the blackness of their despair, the storm clouds were gathering again.

"Worse for the babies," Doc Turner repeated. "Their milk costs only pennies, Ann, but something is taking the pennies, and the hard-earned dollars, from their fathers' paltry pay-envelopes."

"You've got to do something about it, Dad Turner. You've got to find out what it is and stop it. It's up to you."

"Up to me?" Doc sighed. "Yes, I suppose so." It did not occur to him to question the girl's statement. The bewildered aliens of Morris Street were his people. For more years than he cared to remember he had ministered to them—advised them, fought those who schemed to rob them of their pathetic little. The veined nostrils of his big nose flared. "I smell wolves once more." How often had he hunted them, and brought them down, the gaunt, slinking human wolves who batten on the helpless poor! "But this time they're covering their tracks too well. Or is it that I'm so old, my dear, and so very tired?"