Read The Body in the Bouillon Online
Authors: Katherine Hall Page
The Body in the Bouillon (23 page)
Dr. Hubbard raced to the door, grabbed Faith, pulled her into the room, and pushed her down in a chair by the window. He had a syringe in his hand and was clearly not indulging in just a little harmless cross dressing.
“What are you doing here, Mrs. Fairchild?” he hissed angrily.
“I was feeling aâ”
“Shhh, we don't want to wake the patient.”
Faith lowered her voice to a whisper. It wasn't hard. “I was feeling a little sick and came up here to lie down, but I'll go to another room. I'm sorry I disturbed you.”
She attempted to get out of the chair. He pushed her back down and kept his hand flat against her sternum. It was hard to breathe, and she thought she might be sick.
“What to do? What to do?” he was muttering to himself. He looked over at the sleeping figure in the bed. “The angels will come another night, my dear Geoffrey.”
The first shock had worn off, but Faith was still having trouble believing what she was seeingâDr. Roland Hubbard, eminent physician, dressed as a nurse and nuttier than the fruitcake Mrs. Pendergast was pressing on one and all downstairs. James had said Hubbard House was a nut house and James had been right. Only she would have preferred to verify this knowledge second, third, or tenth hand.
“Dr. Hubbard,” she whispered in what she hoped was a reasonable tone, “please let me up. You're hurting me.”
The pressure on her chest lightened, yet he didn't remove his hand. He looked about the room and darted over to the sink for a towel. She jumped up, but he caught her before she could reach the door.
“Now, you must do exactly as I say,” he scolded her. “I don't want to be forced to use this.” He waved the syringe in her face and she could see it was fullâfull of something that would not be terribly good for her, and he should know. He was the doctor.
He was tying the towel as a gag around her mouth before she had a chance to sayâor whisperâanything to warn him.
There was nothing she could do. She threw up. Dream Puffs, claret cup, the angel hair pasta with shrimp she'd had for supperâall came forth, most of it in the sink where he rushed her immediately, but some on herself and the floor. The room instantly took on that horrible odor parents have nightmares aboutâthe odor preceded by a certain cough and cries for help, galvanizing the most deeply asleep mother and father to instant action. Faith's own mother was miles away, but Dr. Hubbard was doing his best to substitute.
She'd assumed he would be infuriated, but he was almost tender. He handed her a glass of water to rinse her
mouth, helped her off with her spattered coat, and gave her a fresh towel.
mouth, helped her off with her spattered coat, and gave her a fresh towel.
“Feeling better?”
She looked at him in astonishment. It was Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy come to life.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Can't use a gag,” he said to himselfâor one of them. “Come on, then. If you make a sound, I'll use this.” He held up the syringe again. Faith nodded. She had no intention of joining the angels.
They moved out into the corridor after Dr. Hubbard had opened the door and looked cautiously up and down. Everything was dark.
He pushed her along past the elevator and opened a door leading to the second floor of the next house. She walked as slowly as she dared. When Tom arrived and didn't find her in the living room or at the party, he'd come upstairs to look. It was too soon to expect him, but the knowledge that he was on his way was keeping her from total terror. She considered telling Roland she might be pregnant, but decided to keep this news in case she needed to make a last desperate plea. Total terror began to manifest itself at the thought, and she closed her eyes and took a breath. Tom. Tom would be here soon.
They were near the staircase. Pale streaks of the waning moon caught the pattern of the oriental carpet tread. The chandelier glowed softly, and Dr. Hubbard was guiding her with a sure hand.
Please, Faith prayed, not the guest room.
It wasn't. They descended the stairs.
It was going to be his office.
He opened the door and turned on the light, then reached into his pocket for his keys and locked the deadbolt at the top.
“Sit down,” he said in his normal volume. It sounded so loud, Faith was sure someone must hear it.
He took a seat on the other side on the desk and
appeared to be lost in thought. Finally he pulled his chair in and leaned forward, bringing the fingertips of both hands together. She was ready for the prognosis. “Unfortunately, it is sometimes necessary in life to sacrifice the needs and well-being of one person for the greater good of the community. When it is a young person such as yourself, a decision like this assumes tragic proportions. But you do see that I have no choice.”
appeared to be lost in thought. Finally he pulled his chair in and leaned forward, bringing the fingertips of both hands together. She was ready for the prognosis. “Unfortunately, it is sometimes necessary in life to sacrifice the needs and well-being of one person for the greater good of the community. When it is a young person such as yourself, a decision like this assumes tragic proportions. But you do see that I have no choice.”
Faith didn't see at all.
“I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about, Dr. Hubbard. Or, in fact, what is going on here at all.”
“Faith,” he replied sorrowfully, “put simply, you know too much.” He should have looked more absurd in his outfit, but the solemn surety in his voice overshadowed all else.
She tried to reassure him. “I don't know anything. You've been under a great strain, which explains the way you're dressed, butâ”
“Do you have any idea how much it costs to keep Hubbard House going, young lady?”
She was more than willing to change the subjectâonly she wasn't sure this was what was happening. Still, so long as he was on one side of the desk and she on the other, she was safe from that booster shot lying conveniently close to his hand on the desk blotter.
“No, I don't.”
“A great deal of money.” So this wasn't going to be an itemized rundown of all it took to keep Hubbard House going: Q-tips, baked beans, vitamin C pills. Faith was a little disappointed.
“For years we have sought to keep afloat with our fees, private donations, a grant here and there, whatever the government can occasionally spare. It hasn't been easy.”
“I'm sure not,” Faith murmured. Where was Tom?
“Not easy at all. But no one is turned out, and we have not relaxed our standards. Not for a minute.”
Faith thought of the flowers from Winston's. Maybe a few less posies and a few more pennies saved?
“We have established a certain quality of life here, and I intend it to remain that way so long as I'm here. Although Donald, of course, feels as I do and will carry on after me.”
Faith nodded. She didn't feel sick anymore. Just scared. She was pretty sure where this line of thought was going.
“That's why I had to do it.” He stood up, remembering to grab the syringe, and went over to his wife's portrait. “A wonderful woman. The best wife any man could have had. She would have agreed with me completely.” He swung around and looked Faith squarely in the eye. “I had no choice, don't you see?”
“Absolutely, whatever you did I'm sure you thought was for the best.”
“It was for the best. I only picked people who were very close to leaving us anyway. In a few instances they were individuals who had expressed a wish to be relieved of their sufferings. And months would go by when I didn't have to make any night visits at all. But this fall has been bad. Contributions down. Expenses up. Of course it's a hard time of year in any case, lots of flu, pneumonia. Nothing odd about a ninety-four-year-old dying peacefully in his sleep.
“Farley thought I was a ghost. He would insist on keeping his window open and then kicking his covers off. I always checked in on him.” He gave an affectionate laugh and reached up to remove his cap and veil. He unbuttoned the uniform, and Faith was obscurely relieved to observe that he hadn't deemed it necessary to wear ladies' undergarments as well. He had his own shirt and trousers on underneath. “This was Mother's uniform. In case someone did wake up before the morphine took effect, I wanted them to be comforted and not startled.”
Not startled! At the moment Faith could think of few things less startling than seeing Dr. Hubbard in Florence
Nightingale drag with an empty syringe in hand bending over one's bed.
Nightingale drag with an empty syringe in hand bending over one's bed.
“It was a painless and rapid method, a simple overdose.”
“These then were residents who had left bequests to Hubbard House?” She asked more to keep the conversational ball rolling than from any lack of certainty, since as long as the ball was in play, the game wasn't over. She hadn't watched all those basketball games for nothing.
“Not all of them, of course. That would have been foolhardy. I had to help some on as a little window dressing, so to speak. Though until poor Farley fell into your bouillon, we haven't had an autopsy here for years. It's not the sector of the population that calls for them, you know, especially these days. There's barely money in the state for homicide victims.”
Faith wasn't interested in the always-dismal state of the state's coffers. “Farley!” She was genuinely indignant. Then there had
never
been any question of its being her bouillon.
never
been any question of its being her bouillon.
“Oh no, my dear. Completely natural, although the morphine would have been hard to detect if it had been” me. No one would have been looking for it, you see. No, Farley was his own doing. Nothing to do with either you or me.”
Faith rubbed her eyes. She was very tired, and sitting with a madman discussing which of them might have killed someone wasn't alleviating her weariness. She suddenly thought of Howard Perkins. The start of this whole business. Had he been visited by this angel of mercy killing too? She had to knowâor she'd never be able to face Aunt Chat again. Oh, that she could face her now!
“What about Howard Perkins?”
“Howard Perkins? Did you know him? Charming man and with us for such a short time. He should have moved here years earlier. It's very difficult for me to understand why anyone would want to stay in New York, but then he
would go on so about his beloved opera and the museums. What about him?”
would go on so about his beloved opera and the museums. What about him?”
“Did youârather, was he ⦠?” Faith searched for some polite equivalent to “murder him.”
Roland caught her meaning. “Oh no, he had a very bad heart. Besides, he was leaving everything to some woman in New Jersey, and I certainly wouldn't have used him as camouflage when he had joined us so recently.” Dr. Hubbard sounded offended at the kind of thoughts Faith had been harboring.
Her lassitude increased. She was almost beginning to relax. Tom would arrive, find her, and the good doctor would join his daughter in a nicely furnished padded cell.
Then Roland's next words sent a megadose of adrenaline coursing through her veins and any notion of fatigue disappeared at once.
“But we stray and time is passing quickly. I must put in an appearance at our little party, and this could take a while. I really am so very, very sorry that I have to kill you.”
He went to the closet and put on his coat, then reached up on the shelf and took a gun from an ancient Wright's Arch Preserver shoebox.
“It will be much nicer for you if you cooperate and I can see you out the normal way, but I'll bring this just in case.”
Normal? Just in case? Did words have meaning anymore?
Faith began to think rapidly. She had no idea where they were going, but it was obviously outside. How would he explain her lack of a coat? Once again she was going to freeze because of one of the Hubbards. But she had underestimated Roland.
“I'm going to give you one of my overcoats. You notice I say âgive' and not âlend.' I don't expect that I will get it back. I'll explain that I gave it to you to wear home, since yours was soiled. This was after I came across you being ill in one of the rooms. You insisted you were fit enough to
drive and I didn't like to quarrel with a lady. Of course, I should have insisted, but then you are so stubborn.”
drive and I didn't like to quarrel with a lady. Of course, I should have insisted, but then you are so stubborn.”
He was rehearsing and Faith's mind was suddenly blank. He was going to kill her and there was nothing she could do about it. If she screamed, no one would hear her, and he would kill her “normally” or not, before she could expect help in any case. She looked at him as he courteously held his coat out for her. He was over six feet and fit as a fiddle. There was no way she could overpower him.
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