The Fall-Down Artist Read Online Free Page A

around a patient’s folder.
    â€œSorry, it’s already in the doctor’s office, locked in a drawer.”
    â€œYou familiar with Radovic?”
    â€œA little. He’s in every two weeks,” the receptionist said. “And the way things are, I’ve got plenty of time to shoot the breeze, find out what people are all about. Like a good detective. You’re a detective, right? What do you think?”
    â€œWork on it,” Dorsey said. “The field is bursting with opportunity.”
    â€œOne thing I know for sure,” the receptionist said, apparently pleased with her insider’s knowledge. “He’s a lucky son of a bum.”
    â€œHow’s that, lucky?”
    â€œReally lucky, in a way,” the girl said. “You don’t mind gettin’ a little bit hurt. Carl, now, he don’t look bad, really.”
    â€œLet’s get back to lucky.”
    The receptionist looked surprised at Dorsey’s apparent failure to understand. “Guy twisted his back, right? Picked up something or other at the mill. Get this. The accident takes place two days before a layoff! Carl would’ve been gone, laid off. He stays healthy, he’d have gone on unemployment. Temporary benefits, even if some people think it’s never gonna run out. But he’s on comp, permanent. Stuff runs for life, unless you guys come up with a way to get him off.”
    Dorsey slipped into a well-practiced disinterest. “Radovic tell you this?”
    â€œSome,” the receptionist said. “He ain’t got much, but he likes to brag like the rest. Most of it I got from a girlfriend; she’s in personnel at the mill. Used to be, anyways.She’s laid off now, too. From Carlisle Steel.”
    Before they could continue, the intercom buzzed, indicating that Dr. Tang had arrived in his office through a private entrance. Dorsey was shooed in by the receptionist, who reluctantly gave up her audience.
    An Asian gentleman, wearing an ill-fitting suit that would have disguised his profession in a larger city, rose from behind his desk and introduced himself as Dr. Tang. His hair was cropped short and his eyes were hidden behind thick lenses.
    â€œMista Dorsey,” Dr. Tang said blandly, nodding to a chair in front of the desk. “You here to discuss Mista Ravic?”
    â€œRadovic.” Dorsey took his seat. “Carl Radovic. You’re his treating physician, correct? You’re treating him for a back ailment?”
    â€œYes, over the last few months. I see him on referral from Dr. Hurst, the plant doctor at Carlisle.” As he spoke, Dr. Tang opened a manila folder and reviewed its contents. “The man has a problem.”
    â€œWhat’s the diagnosis, doctor?” Dorsey took a sheet of paper from a manila folder of his own and handed it to the doctor. It was Radovic’s signed release for medical information, photocopied from Fidelity Casualty’s claim file.
    â€œTo me, looks like a disc,” Dr. Tang said, eyes on the paper Dorsey had handed to him. “Herniated at L5-S1. Lots of pain; patient says he have pain running down his leg. Disc is out, striking a nerve. Possibly sciatic.”
    â€œHerniated disc,” Dorsey mumbled, again looking through the folder on his lap, faking a search. “What do the tests say? CT scan, myelogram?”
    â€œI examine him,” the doctor said. His eyes abruptly left the paper and settled on Dorsey. “All the signs, he have all the signs. Straight leg is positive. Tender over the sciatic notch. Can’t bend, and range of motion is narrow.”
    â€œDoctor,” Dorsey said, “I’m not here to start an argument, but isn’t it standard for some type of pictures, other than X rays, to be taken? What you just mentioned areclinical observations. Any test results in his chart?”
    â€œCT scan.” Dr. Tang’s glare sharpened as he handed out the test report to