Godplayer (19 page)

Thomas met Laura at the door to the inner office and motioned her inside. He was pleased to see that again she was wearing a thin, clinging silk dress. It was a light beige, almost the color of her skin. Thomas could see the faint line of her panties.

He didn’t speak for a moment, plotting his opening so that if he’d misread her signals there wouldn’t be any embarrassment. He began by reassuring her once again that her father would soon be discharged. Then he discussed Mr. Campbell’s long-term care, and under the pretense of discussing his exercise limitations, Thomas brought up the issue of sex.

“Your father had asked me about this before the operation,” he said, watching Laura’s face. “I know that your mother passed away several years ago, and if this is an uncomfortable subject for you ...”

“Not at all,” said Laura with a smile. “I am an adult.”

“Of course,” said Thomas, letting his eyes run over her dress. “That is very obvious.”

Laura smiled again and smoothed her long ponytail off her shoulder.

“A man like your father still has sexual needs,” said Thomas.

“As a physician I’m sure you know that better than most,” said Laura. She’d uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. It was clear she wasn’t wearing a bra under the sheer silk.

Thomas got up from his chair and came around in front of the desk. He was certain Laura hadn’t come to talk about her father. “I understand these needs all too well myself because I have a wife with a chronic, debilitating disease.”

Laura smiled. “As I said, I wish there was something I could do for you.” She stood up and leaned against Thomas. “Can you think of anything?” Thomas led her into the dimly lit examining room. Slowly he helped her out of her dress and then stepped out of his own clothes, folding them neatly on a chair. When he turned back to face her, he was pleased to find himself fully erect.

“What do you think?” he asked, with his palms spread out to the sides.

“I love it,” said Laura huskily, reaching out for him.

After having worried about driving, Cassi was glad that her trip home was pleasantly uneventful. The most hazardous part had been the walk from the garage to the house. She’d forgotten how early night came now that it was December.

The house itself was ominously black, particularly the windows, which shone like pieces of polished onyx. Inside Cassi found a note from Harriet explaining how to heat up dinner. Whenever Harriet got the word that Thomas was not coming home, she left early. As contrary as Harriet could be, Cassi would have preferred not to be alone.

She went through the house snapping on lights hoping to make the place a bit more cheerful. She found the rambling old house with its cavernous spaces particularly chilling, her footsteps echoing down the empty halls. The heat was supposed to be turned to sixty-five degrees, but Cassi could see her breath.

Upstairs the morning room was considerably warmer, almost comfortable. In the master bath she had a supplementary quartz heater, which she turned on. After testing her blood sugar, Cassi went ahead with her usual insulin dose, then took a shower.

She tried not to think too much. Her emotional outburst had left her drained and had settled nothing. She knew Joan was right about her dependency, and it reminded Cassi of the identification she’d felt with Maureen Kavenaugh. Just like her patient, Cassi felt hopeless, timid, and fearful. She wondered if she too lacked the ability to influence her life even when she understood her problem. Then in a flash of sudden horror, Cassi became aware of the power of her denial. One of the reasons she’d suspected that Thomas was abusing drugs was because of his pupils. So often of late they had been mere pinpoints, but Dexedrine caused dilated pupils! Other drugs caused small pupils. Other drugs that Cassi did not want to think about.

Cassi could feel perspiration appear on her palms. She did not know if it was from sudden terror or from her insulin. Praying that her fears were groundless, she forced herself down the hall to Thomas’s study. Flipping on the light, she stood there, her eyes recording all the details of the room. Against her will, she recalled the consequences of her previous visit, and she fought against the urge to flee.

The medicine cabinet in the bathroom was exactly as it had been two weeks earlier: a mess. It contained nothing that was suspicious. Getting down on her hands and knees, Cassi searched beneath the sink. Nothing. Then she went through the towel cabinets. Again nothing.

Feeling a modicum of relief, Cassi went back to the study itself Besides the desk and burgundy reading chair, there was the sofa bed, bordered by two end tables with lamps, a hassock, an entire wall of bookshelves, a liquor cabinet, and an antique highboy with claw feet. The floor was covered with an enormous Tabriz carpet.

Cassi walked over to the desk. It was an imposing piece of furniture, which she knew had belonged to Thomas’s grandfather. As she reached out and touched the cool surface, she had the same naughty sensation she’d felt as a child, snooping in her parents’ bedroom. Shrugging her shoulders, she pulled out the center drawer. A plastic desk organizer was filled to overflowing with rubber bands, paper clips, and other odds and ends. She pulled the drawer out to its limit and carefully lifted the layers of papers toward the back. Nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied, Cassi was about to push it closed when she thought she heard a door slam. Peering through the window, she could see the lights in Patricia’s apartment over the garage. She hadn’t heard a car, but that wasn’t too surprising. With the storm windows down, sounds from the outside did not penetrate the house too easily. She could see the garage door was closed. Had she closed it? She couldn’t remember. A moment later there were footsteps in the hall. Panic knotted her stomach. Obviously Thomas had come home. If he caught her in his study after the episode with Patricia, he’d be furious. She looked around frantically, wondering if she could slip out through the spare room. But before she could move, the door opened.

It was Patricia. She was as surprised to find Cassi as Cassi her. The two women stared at each other in disbelief “What are you doing in here?” Patricia said finally.

“I was about to ask you the same question,” returned Cassi, standing behind the desk.

“I saw the light go on in here. Naturally, I thought Thomas had come home after all. As his mother I think I’m entitled to see him.”

Cassi unconsciously nodded as if she agreed. Actually it had been a constant source of irritation for her that Patricia had a key to the house and felt no compunction about entering whenever she wanted.

“That’s my excuse,” said Patricia. “What’s yours?”

Cassi knew she should have simply replied that it was her home and she could go into any room she pleased. But she didn’t. Her sense of guilt made it impossible.

“I suppose I can guess,” said Patricia disdainfully, “even though it upsets me. Snooping through his possessions like this when he’s in the hospital saving lives! What kind of a wife are you?”

Patricia’s question hung in the air like static electricity. Cassi didn’t try to answer. She’d begun to wonder herself what kind of a wife she was.

“I think you should leave this room at once,” rasped Patricia.

Cassi didn’t object. She walked past her mother-in-law with her head bowed. Patricia followed her out and closed the door. Without looking back, Cassi descended the stairs and headed for the kitchen. She heard the front door close and presumed Patricia had left. The woman would tell Thomas that Cassi had been in his study. It was inevitable.

She looked at the meal Harriet had left on the stove with distaste, but she knew that after taking her normal insulin dose she required a certain amount of calories. Forcing down the warmed-over food, she made up her mind to return to the study and finish her search. Having already been caught, she no longer had anything to fear except what she’d find.

There was still the chance Thomas could appear, but Cassi was prepared to listen for the sounds of the Porsche. In order to keep from having to face Patricia again, Cassi pulled the heavy drapes over the windows, and she used a flashlight, like a real burglar. She went directly to the desk and tried the side drawers, starting at the top and working her way down. She didn’t have far to go. In the back of the second drawer inside a stationery box, Cassi found a collection of plastic pill containers. Some were empty, but most were full. All of them had the same prescribing M.D., a Dr. Allan Baxter. The dates were all within the past three months.

In addition to the Dexedrine, there were two other types of pills, and Cassi carefully took one of each. She replaced the vials in the stationery box and closed the drawer. Switching off the flashlight, she reopened the curtains and walked quickly back to her room. When she got out her Physician’s Desk Reference and compared the pills to the identification pictures, she realized that her suspicions were right. “Oh God!” she said out loud. “Dexedrine for exhaustion is one thing. Percodan and Talwin are something else entirely.”

For the second time that day Cassi burst into tears. This time she did not even try to check her sobs. She flung herself down on the bed and wept uncontrollably.

Despite his interlude with Laura, Thomas decided to keep his planned visit with Doris. He was disappointed enough that the man in cardiac cath had suffered a second heart attack and couldn’t be scheduled for surgery. He certainly wasn’t going to ruin the night further by the long drive home.

Doris buzzed him in the minute he touched the bell. When he reached the second floor, he found her peering coyly around the door. When she opened it, he realized why she’d stayed inside. She was dressed in a diaphanous, short black camisole that laced up the front and snapped between her legs. It covered about the same area as a one-piece bathing suit.

“Glenlivet with Perrier,” said Doris, handing Thomas a tumbler and pressing herself up against him before he could get his coat off.

Thomas took the drink in one hand and put the other on Doris’s backside. The only light in the room came from a Scandinavian-style oil lamp that painted the room with warm, golden tones. The coffee table was also laid for dinner with an uncorked bottle of wine standing nearby.

When Doris retreated to the kitchen, Thomas called the hospital page operator. He gave her Doris’s number along with the admonition it was for the thoracic resident on-call only. She was not to give it to anyone else, and if there were a question she should call herself.

CHAPTER 6

“I GOTTA BEIMOVING,” said Clark Reardon. My woman told me not to be late.”

Clark had pulled a straight-back metal chair over to Jeoffry Washington’s bed.

“Well, it was great to see you, man,” said Jeoffry. “Thanks for coming in. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” said Clark, standing up. He raised his hand, and when Jeoffry put his out, he slapped it affectionately.

“So when you breaking outta here?” asked Clark.

“Pretty soon. Maybe in a couple days. I’m not sure. I still got this IV.”

Jeoffry raised his left arm, indicating the coiled plastic tubing. “I had some inflammation in my legs right after the operation. At least that’s what Dr. Sherman told me, so they started giving me antibiotics. It was a little rough for a couple days, but it’s better now. The best thing that happened to me was when they took away the cardiac monitor. I tell you, the beep from that mother drove me crazy.”

“How long you been in here so far?”

“Nine days.”

“That ain’t bad.”

“Not from this end. But I tell you, I was pretty scared in the beginning. But I had no choice. They told me I was going to die if I didn’t get operated on. So what can you do?”

“Nothing! I’ll see you tomorrow night and I’ll bring in those books you wanted. Anything else?”

“I’d love a little grass.”

“Come on, man.”

“I’m just joking.”

Clark turned and waved at the door before disappearing down the hall.

Jeoffry surveyed his room. He was glad that he was leaving soon. The other bed in the semiprivate room was empty. His roommate had been discharged that day and no new patient had arrived. Jeoffry was sorry to be alone, especially now that Clark had left and he had nothing to look forward to. As far as Jeoffry was concerned, a hospital was not a place to be alone. There were too many frightening machines and procedures to face without support.

Jeoffry switched on the miniature TV set connected to the head of the bed. Toward the end of the second situation comedy, Miss DeVries, a spunky LPN, entered. Pretending she had some delectable treat for Jeoffry, she insisted he close his eyes and open his mouth. As he did so, he had a pretty good idea of what was coming, and he was right. It was a thermometer.

Ten minutes later she returned and exchanged the thermometer for a sleeping pill. Jeoffry took the pill with water he had on the side table while the LPN examined the thermometer.

“Do I have a temperature?” asked Jeoffry.

“Everybody has a temperature,” said Miss DeVries.

“How could I forget,” said Jeoffry. They’d been through this before.

“Okay, do I have a fever?”

“That’s classified information,” said Miss DeVries.

Jeoffry never could understand why the nurses could not tell him if he had a temperature; correction, a fever. They always said that was up to the doctor, which was crazy. It was his body.