Robin Cook - Fatal Cure

Angela flashed David an expression of disbelief. "You amaze me sometimes," she said. "Especially since you think you are so rational. That's the most convoluted and ridiculous idea I've ever heard. Van Slyke's history documented mania with belligerence. And you're suggesting that you could safely evoke this individual's schizophrenic paranoia? That's absurd. He'd explode in violence, and it would be directed at everyone, particularly you."

"It was just an idea," David said defensively.

"Well, I'm not going to get myself worked up," Angela said. "This is all too speculative and theoretical."

"Okay," David said soothingly. "The next candidate is Peter Ullhof. Obviously he has medical training. The fact that he's been arrested in connection with the abortion issue suggests that he has some strong feelings about moral issues in medicine. But after that, there's not much."

"What about Joe Forbs?" Angela asked.

"The only thing that makes him suspicious is his inability to handle his personal finances," David said.

"And what about the last person? Claudette Maurice."

"She's clean," David said. "The only thing I'm curious about is where she has the tattoo."

"I'm exhausted," Angela said. She tossed the papers she had in her hands onto the coffee table. "Maybe after a good night's sleep, something will come to us."

Nikki awoke in the middle of the night with another nightmare and ended up sleeping in the master bedroom. David and Angela both slept restlessly. Even Rusty seemed unable to sleep soundly, growling and barking on several occasions during the night. Each time David leaped out of bed and grabbed the shotgun. But each time it proved to be a false alarm.

The only bright spot the next morning was Nikki's health. Her lungs were completely clear. Nevertheless, the Wilsons didn't even consider sending her to school.

They tried phoning Calhoun again but got the answering machine with the same message. They discussed calling the police about the investigator but couldn't make up their minds. They admitted they didn't know Calhoun that well, that his behavior was eccentric, and that they were probably jumping to conclusions. They were also reluctant to call the local police considering the experiences they'd had with them, particularly the previous night.

"The one thing I do know," Angela said, "I don't want to spend another night in this house. Maybe we should pack everything up and leave this town to its own devices and secrets."

"If we're thinking of doing that, then I'd better call Sherwood," David said.

"Do it," Angela said. "I'm serious about not wanting to spend another night here."

David phoned the bank to make an appointment to see the president. The first opening available was that afternoon at three o'clock. Although David would have preferred an earlier time, he took what he could get.

"We really should speak to a lawyer," Angela said.

"You're right," David said. "Let's call Joe Cox."

Joe was a good friend of theirs. He was also one of the shrewdest lawyers in Boston. When Angela called his office, she was told that Joe was unavailable; he was in court and would be all day. Angela left a message that she'd call back.

"Where should we spend the night?" Angela asked, hanging up the phone.

"Our closest friends in town are the Yansens," David said. "And that's not saying much. I haven't socialized with Kevin since that ridiculous tennis game, and I don't want to call him now." David sighed. "I suppose I could call my parents."

"I was afraid to suggest it," Angela said.

David made the call to Amherst, New Hampshire, and asked his mother if they could come for a few days. He explained that they were having some difficulties with the house. David's mother was delighted. There'd be no problem at all. She said she was looking forward to their arrival.

Angela tried to call Calhoun again with no luck. She then suggested they drive to his place in Rutland; it wasn't that far away. David agreed, so all three Wilsons climbed into the Volvo and made the trip.

"There it is," Angela said as they approached Calhoun's home.

David pulled into the parking area in front of the car port. They were immediately disappointed. They'd hoped to be reassured, but they weren't. It was obvious no one was home. There was two days' worth of newspapers piled on the front stoop.

On their way back to Bartlet they discussed the investigator and found themselves even more indecisive. Angela mentioned that after she'd hired him he'd not contacted her for days. Finally they decided they'd wait one more day. If they couldn't reach him in twenty-four hours they would go to the police.

When they got home, Angela began packing for a stay at David's parents'. Nikki helped. While they were busy with that, David got out the telephone book and looked up the addresses of the five tattooed hospital workers. Once he had them written down, he went upstairs and told Angela that he wanted to cruise by their homes just to check out their living situations.

"I don't want you going anywhere," Angela said sternly.

"Why not?" David asked. He was surprised at her response.

"For one thing, I don't want to be here by myself," she said. "Second, we now understand that this affair is dangerous. I don't want you snooping around the house of a potential killer."

"Okay," David said soothingly. "Your first reason is quite sufficient. You didn't have to give me two. I didn't think you'd be nervous to be left alone during this time of the morning. And as far as it being dangerous, these people would probably be at work now."

"Probably isn't good enough," Angela said. "Why don't you give us a hand packing the car?"

It was almost noon before they were ready. After they made sure all the doors to the house were locked, they climbed into the Volvo. Rusty hopped in beside Nikki.

David's mother, Jeannie Wilson, welcomed them warmly, and made them feel instantly at home. David's father, Albert, was off for a day's fishing trip and wouldn't be back until that evening.

After carrying everything into the house, Angela collapsed on the quilted bed in the guest room. "I'm exhausted," she said. "I could fall asleep this second."

"Why don't you?" David said. "There's no need for both of us to go back to talk with Sherwood."

"You wouldn't mind?" Angela asked.

"Not in the least," David said. He pulled the edge of the quilt down and encouraged Angela to slide under it. As he closed the door he heard her advise him to drive carefully, but her voice was already thick with sleep.

David told his mother and Nikki that Angela was napping. He suggested that Nikki do the same, but she was already involved in making cookies with her grandmother. Explaining that he had an appointment in Bartlet, David went out to the car.

David arrived back in town with three-quarters of an hour to spare. He stopped alongside the road to pull out the list of tattooed hospital employees and their addresses. The closest one was Clyde Devonshire's. Feeling a bit guilty, David put the car in gear and headed for Clyde's. He rationalized his decision by telling himself that Angela's fears were unwarranted. Besides, he wasn't going to do anything; he just wanted to take a look.

David was surprised to find a convenience store at the address listed for Devonshire. He parked in front of the building, got out, and went into the store. While paying for a carton of orange juice he asked one of the two clerks if he knew Clyde Devonshire.

"Sure do," the man said. "He lives upstairs."

"Do you know him well?" David asked.

"So-so," the man said. "He comes in here a lot."

"I was told he had a tattoo," David said.

The man laughed. "Clyde's got a bunch of tattoos," he said.