The Doctor's Dose
Los Angeles, 1947 The clinic smelled of carbolic and cigar smoke and something else, something metallic that Marcus Hale would not have been able to identify if his life depended on it. Which, as it turned out, it soon would. The woman who walked in at two in the morning wore a dress the colour of midnight and lipstick the colour of a fresh wound. She had black hair and grey eyes and a face...
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