Extenuating Circumstances Read Online Free

were making up her mind about it at that very moment. "Yeah, I'll be all right. Can I help you?"
    "I'd like to talk to Sam Kingston."
    She glanced over her shoulder at the swinging doors. "Sam's busy at the moment."
    "I heard."
    "Some kid freaked out on T's and B's. Sam's talking him down. He shouldn't be too much longer if you want to wait."
    I sat on one of the folding chairs, next to a kid who smelled like a clothes hamper. A few minutes went by, then a stocky, bearded black man in a doctor's frock coat came through the swinging doors. He walked over to the waiting area and sat down heavily on the corner of the nurse's desk.
    "What's next, I wonder?" he said, rubbing savagely at his thick black beard.
    "Sam?" the nurse said. "That fellow's been waiting to talk to you." She pointed at me.
    The man turned his head toward me and held out his hand. "I'm Sam Kingston. How can I help you?"
    "My name is Stoner, Dr. Kingston," I said, shaking with him. "Could I talk to you for a few minutes?"
    "You a narc, Mr. Stoner?"
    I smiled at his savvy. "No. A private detective. I'm working for the Lessing family."
    The name Lessing made Sam Kingston straighten up.
    "Come on back to the office," he said.
 
 
    The office was nothing more than a glassed-in carrel in one corner of the clinic. The Hippocratic oath was hung like a stitched motto above a tiny desk and chair. The only other furnishing was a stained Mr. Coffee machine sitting on a plastic table.
    "What exactly do you do for Ira?" Kingston said, pouring two cups of coffee and handing one to me.
    "Right now, what I'm doing is looking for him."
    "Did you try at his office or over at the Court House?"
    "He's disappeared, Dr. Kingston. Since Sunday night no one has seen or heard from him."
    Kingston sat down on his desk chair, slopping a little coffee on the floor. "Seriously?"
    "I'm afraid so."
    Kingston set the coffee cup on the corner of his desk and stared at me with concern. "I sure hope nothing's happened to him. It might sound corny, but the guy is a saint. Without him none of this would exist. Not the Lighthouse or half a dozen other charities and halfway houses around town. My God, he's put over ten thousand of his own dollars in this place alone. And if we run short or some kid needs money for special treatment, all you have to do is ask Ira. I don't know how much he's handed out over the years. All you have to do is ask."
    "You haven't seen or heard from him this week or weekend, have you?"
    "I talked to him on Saturday afternoon," Kingston said.
    "What did he say?"
    "The usual things. He asked how we were doing, if there was anything we needed."
    "Did you need anything special?"
    "Money," Kingston said with an embarrassed laugh. "We always need money. The Lighthouse is funded by the commission now. But, in spite of the dole, we're perpetually short. Ira mails us a monthly check to help defray costs. And of course we're always sending local kids to him for handouts -to help get them started in the program."
    I asked Kingston the same thing I'd asked Don Geneva: "Why is he so charitable to street kids?"
    "Because he's a good man," Kingston said thoughtfully, as if he'd asked himself the same question many times before. "I mean I've talked to him about it. Sometimes you can't help thinking you're taking advantage of a guy who's that generous. But he says it's something he needs to do. He has more money than he can use, and he doesn't have any children of his own. He just wants to help kids."
    I reached into my coat and pulled out the two canceled checks I'd found in Ira's calendar.
"I found these on Lessing's desk. They might have meant something special to him. Do they mean anything to you?"
    Kingston reached out and took the checks. "They look like Ira's usual doles -to get kids started in the drug rehab program."
    "Nothing unusual about them?"
    "Not that I can see. I could have our bookkeeper,, Marty Levine, examine them if you want to leave them with me. She's out on