Robin Cook - Fatal Cure

"Perhaps we could meet," Angela suggested.

"You want me to come there or do you want to come here?" Calhoun asked.

Angela thought for a moment. She didn't want David finding put what she was up to-not just yet.

"I'll come to you," she said.

"I'll be waiting," Calhoun said after he gave her directions.

Angela ran upstairs, changed clothes, then left a note saying "Gone shopping" for David and Nikki.

Calhoun's office was also his home. She had no trouble finding it. In the driveway she noticed his Ford pickup truck had a rifle rack in the back of the cab and a sticker on the back bumper that read: "This Vehicle Climbed Mount Washington."

Phil Calhoun invited her into his living room and offered her a seat on a threadbare sofa. He was far from her romantic image of a private investigator. Although he was a big man, he was overweight and considerably older than she'd guessed from his voice. She figured he was in his early sixties. His face was a little doughy, but his gray eyes were bright. He was wearing a wool black and white checkered hunting shirt. His cotton work pants were held up by black suspenders. On his head was a cap with the words "Roscoe Electric" emblazoned above the visor.

"Mind if I smoke?" Calhoun asked, holding up a box of Antonio y Cleopatra cigars.

"It's your house," Angela said.

"What's the story about this murder?" Calhoun asked as he leaned back in his chair.

Angela gave a capsule summary of the whole affair.

"Sounds interesting to me," Calhoun said. "I'll be delighted to take the case on an hourly basis. Now about me: I'm a retired state police officer and a widower. That's about it. Any questions?"

Angela studied Calhoun as he casually smoked. He was laconic like most New Englanders. He seemed forthright, a trait she appreciated. Beyond that, she had no way of judging the man's competence, although having been a state policeman seemed auspicious.

"Why did you leave the force?" Angela asked.

"Compulsory retirement," Calhoun said.

"Have you ever been involved in a murder case?" Angela asked.

"Not as a civilian," Calhoun said.

"What type of cases do you usually handle?" Angela asked.

"Marital problems, shoplifting, bartender embezzlement, that sort of thing."

"Do you think you could handle this case?" Angela asked.

"No question," Calhoun said. "I grew up in a small Vermont town similar to Bartlet. I'm familiar with the environment; hell, I even know some of the people who live there. I know the kinds of feuds that simmer for years and the mindset of the people involved. I'm the right man for the job because I can ask questions without sticking out like a sore thumb."

Angela drove back to Bartlet wondering if she'd done the right thing in hiring Phil Calhoun. She also wondered how and when she'd tell David.

Arriving at home Angela was distressed to find that Nikki was by herself. David had gone to the hospital to check on his patient. Angela asked Nikki if David had tried to get Alice to come over while he was away.

"Nope," Nikki said, unconcerned. "Daddy said he'd be back soon and that you'd probably show up before he did."

Angela decided she'd talk with David. Under the circumstances, she did not like Nikki being in the house by herself. She could hardly believe that David would leave Nikki alone, and the fact that he did eliminated any reservations Angela had about hiring Phil Calhoun.

Angela told Nikki that she wanted to keep the doors locked, and they went around to check them all. The only one that was open was the back door. As she prepared a quick snack for Nikki, she casually asked what she and her father had been doing that morning, but Nikki refused to say.

When David returned, Angela took him aside to discuss his leaving Nikki by herself. David was defensive at first but then agreed to avoid it in the future.

Soon David and Nikki were thick as thieves again, but Angela ignored them. Saturday afternoons were one of her favorite times. With little opportunity to cook during the week, she liked to spend a good portion of the day hovering over her recipe books and putting together a gourmet meal. It was a therapeutic experience for her.

By midafternoon she had the menu planned. Leaving the kitchen, she opened the cellar door and started down. She was on her way to the freezer to get some veal bones to make a golden stock when she realized she'd not been back to the basement since the technicians had been there. Angela's steps slowed. She was a little nervous going down in the cellar by herself and toyed with the idea of asking David to accompany her. But she realized she was being silly. Besides, she didn't want to spook Nikki any more than she already was.

Angela continued the rest of the way down the stairs and headed toward the freezer against the far wall. As she walked she glanced in the direction of Hodges' former tomb and was relieved to see that David had stacked the window screens over the hole.

Angela was just reaching into the freezer when she heard a scraping sound behind her. She froze. She could have sworn the noise had come from behind the stairs. Angela allowed the freezer to close before she slowly turned around to face the dimly lit cellar.

With utter horror, Angela saw the screens begin to move. She blinked, then looked again, hoping that it had been her imagination. But then the screens fell over with a loud, echoing crash.

Angela tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth. She tried to move, but she couldn't. With great effort, she at last took a step, then another. But she was only halfway to the stairs when Hodges' partially skeletonized face emerged from the tomb. Then the man himself staggered out. He seemed disoriented until he saw Angela. Then he started toward her, his arms extended.

Angela's terror translated to motion. She ran for the stairs in earnest, but she was too late. Hodges cut her off and grabbed her arm.

Feeling the creature's hand on her wrist unlocked Angela's voice. She screamed, struggling to free herself. Then she saw another ghoul emerge from the tomb, a smaller but equally hideous fiend with the exact same face. Suddenly Angela realized that Hodges was laughing.

Angela could only stare, dumbfounded, as David pulled off a rubber mask. Nikki, the smaller ghoul, pulled an identical mask from her face. Both of them were laughing hysterically.

At first Angela was embarrassed, but her humiliation quickly turned to fury. There was nothing funny about this gag. She pushed David aside and stomped upstairs.

David and Nikki continued to laugh, but their laughter soon faltered as they began to understand how much they had frightened Angela.

"Do you think she's really mad?" Nikki asked.

"I'm afraid so," David said. "I think we'd better go up and talk with her."

Angela refused to even look at them as she busied herself in the kitchen.

"But we're sorry," David repeated for the third time.

"We both are, Mom," Nikki insisted. But then both Nikki and David had to suppress giggles.

"We never imagined you'd be fooled for a minute," David said, trying to control himself. "Honest! We thought you'd guess immediately; it was so corny."

"Yeah, Mom," Nikki said. "We thought you'd guess because next Sunday's Halloween. These are going to be our Halloween costumes. We even bought the same mask for you."

"Well, you can just throw it away," Angela said.

Nikki's face fell. Her eyes welled with tears.

Angela looked at her and her anger melted. "Now don't you get upset," she said. She drew Nikki to her. "I know I'm overreacting," she added, "but I was really scared. And I don't think it was funny."

Eager to get started on what was easily the most intriguing case he'd landed since he started his little side business to supplement his pension and social security, Phil Calhoun drove into Bartlet in the middle of the afternoon. He parked his pickup truck within the shade of the Bartlet library and walked across the green to the police station.