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Doc. Turner's Murder Medicine by Arthur Leo Zagat is a gripping blend of medical mystery and suspense. Dr. Turner, a brilliant but unconventional physician, becomes embroiled in a series of inexplicable deaths linked to his cutting-edge treatments. As he delves into the case, he uncovers a sinister plot where medicine and murder intertwine. With his reputation on the line and lives at stake, Turner must use his expertise to navigate a labyrinth of deceit, betrayal, and danger. Can he unravel the deadly conspiracy before more lives are lost, or will he become the next victim of this chilling plot? Dive into this thrilling story where the stakes are as high as the medical secrets.
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Seitenzahl: 26
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Doc. Turner's Murder Medicine
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Each weekend brought death and new terror to teeming Morris Street, when the screams of frightened women and children and the mad rush of panicked men made a hideous madhouse of the neighborhood. What chance had the little gray druggist to protect his people from that hidden hand of murder-madness?
IN the back-room of his drugstore on Morris Street, Andrew Turner's long-fingered, almost transparent hand gave a final twirl to the pill-roller. He lifted the wooden device, and there was a twinkle in the faded blue eyes under his shaggy, white brows as he peered at the firm, perfect globules.
"Look at them, Abie," he threw over his shoulder to the hook-nosed, swart-visaged urchin polishing a graduate glass at the sink behind him. "Each one the same as all the others, to a hair's-breadth, and each one right to the hundredth of a grain. Do you think those whippersnappers the schools are grinding out by the bushel could match them?"
"Oi, Meester Toiner," Abie's nasal twang responded. "Dey ain't nobody could metch you. Jeck Rensom says dot ven God made you He broke de mold."
Doc Turner's white mustache moved as his thin lips quirked with a small smile. "Nonsense, son," he protested. "I'm only an old fellow trying to do his best for the people he serves." He sighed. "And often failing. There is so very little one man can do for them, huddled in this slum, and bewildered by the strange ways of a strange land." He was talking at the errand boy, not to him. "But when one knows them they are so very, very human, and so lovable. Listen to them..."
The shuffling of hundreds of feet, the shouts of the hucksters, the shrill chaffering of shawled women invaded the cloistered quiet of the store to which he had come longer ago than he cared to remember, and over all there was laughter. For this was Saturday night, and pay envelopes were clutched in calloused hands, and tomorrow the alarm clocks would not ring.
And then, quite suddenly, silence blotted out the noises. It fell like a pall, for a single quivering instant, a soundless hush shuddering with dread. For that instant Doc Turner froze, blanching, an age-long moment of appalled expectancy ended by a hoarse bellow like the roar of an enraged beast. A scream joined it, the throat-tearing scream of a woman face-to-face with terror. The shriek cut off...