Godplayer (35 page)

But what really made the rest of the hospitalization so pleasant was Thomas. He had been so relaxed the last five days, Cassi had even been able to talk to him about Robert. She had asked Thomas if she really had met him in Robert’s room the night Robert died or if she’d dreamt it.

Thomas laughed and said that he indeed did find her there the night before her surgery. She had been heavily sedated and hadn’t seemed to know what she was doing.

Cassi had been relieved to know she had not hallucinated all the events that night, and although she still questioned certain vague memories, she was willing to ascribe them to her imagination. Especially after Joan made Cassi comprehend the power of her own subconscious.

“Okay,” said Miss Stevens, bustling into the room to see if Cassi was ready. “Here are your medicines. These drops are for daytime use. And this ointment is for bedtime. I also tossed in a handful of eye patches. Any questions?”

“No,” said Cassi, standing up.

Since it was a little after eleven, Cassi carried her suitcase down to the foyer and left it with the people at the information booth. Knowing that Thomas would be busy for at least another two hours, Cassi took the elevator back up to pathology. One of the vague memories she’d not wished to discuss with Thomas concerned the SSD data. She could remember something about the data, but it wasn’t clear, and the last thing she wanted to do was suggest to Thomas she was still interested in the study.

Reaching the ninth floor, Cassi went directly to Robert’s office. Only it was no longer Robert’s. There was a new name plate in the stainless steel holder on the door. It said Dr. Percey Frazer. Cassi knocked. She heard someone yell to come in.

The room was in sharp contrast to the way Robert had kept it. There were piles of books, medical journals, and microscopic slides everywhere she looked. The floor was littered with crumpled sheets of paper. Dr. Frazer matched the room. He had unkempt frizzed hair that merged into a beard without any line of demarcation.

“Can I help you?” he asked, noting Cassi’s surprised reaction to the mess. His voice was neither friendly nor unfriendly.

“I was a friend of Robert Seibert,” said Cassi.

“Ah, yes,” said Dr. Frazer, rocking back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “What a tragedy.”

“Do you happen to know anything about his papers?” asked Cassi. “We’d been working on a project together. I was hoping to get hold of the material.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. When I was offered this office, it had been completely cleaned out. I’d advise you to talk to the chief of the department, Dr ...”

“I know the chief,” interrupted Cassi. “I used to be a resident here myself.”

“Sorry I can’t help you,” said Dr. Frazer, tipping forward again in his chair and going back to his work.

Cassi turned to go, but then thought of something else. “Do you know what the autopsy on Robert showed?”

“I heard that the fellow had severe valvular heart disease.”

“What about the cause of death?”

“That I don’t know. They’re waiting on the brain. Maybe they haven’t finished.”

“Do you know if he was cyanotic?”

“I think so. But I’m not the one to be asking. I’m new around here. Why don’t you talk to the chief?”

“You’re right. Thanks for your time.”

Dr. Frazer waved as Cassi left the office, closing the door silently behind her. She went to look for the chief but he was out of town at a meeting. Sadly Cassi decided to sit in Thomas’s waiting room until he was ready to go. Seeing Robert’s old office already occupied had brought his death back to her with unpleasant finality. Having been forced to miss the funeral, Cassi sometimes had trouble remembering her friend was gone.

Now she wouldn’t have that problem anymore.

When Cassi reached Thomas’s office she found the door locked. Checking her watch, she realized why. It was just after twelve and Doris was on her lunch break. Cassi got Security to open the door to the waiting room and settled herself on the rose sofa.

She tried flipping through the collection of outdated New Yorker magazines, but she couldn’t concentrate. Looking around, she noticed that the door to Thomas’s office was ajar. The one thing Cassi had been effectively denying for the past week was Thomas’s drug taking. With the change in his behavior, she wanted to believe that he’d stopped. But when she was sitting in his office, curiosity got the better of her. She got up, walked past Doris’s desk, and entered the inner office.

It was one of the few times she’d been there. She glanced at the photos of Thomas and other nationally known cardiac surgeons that were arranged on bookshelves. She couldn’t help noticing that there were no pictures of herself. There was one of Patricia, but that was with Thomas Sr. and Thomas himself when he was in college.

Nervously, Cassi seated herself behind the desk. Almost automatically her hand went to the second drawer on the right, the same one where she’d found the drugs at home. As she pulled it out, she felt like a traitor. Thomas had been behaving so wonderfully the last week. Yet there they were: a miniature pharmacy of Percodan, Demerol, Valium, morphine, Talwin, and Dexedrine. Just beyond the plastic vials was a stack of mail-order forms for an out-of-state drug firm. Cassi bent over to look more closely. The firm’s name was Generic Drugs. The prescribing doctor was an Allan Baxter, M.D., the same name that had been on the vials she’d found at home.

Suddenly she heard the waiting room door shut. Resisting a temptation to slam the drawer, she quickly eased it shut. Then, taking a deep breath, she walked out of Thomas’s office~

“My God!” exclaimed Doris with a start. “I had no idea you were here.”

“They let me out early,” said Cassi with a smile. “Good behavior.”

After recovering from her initial shock, Doris felt compelled to inform Cassi that she’d spent the entire previous afternoon canceling today’s office patients so that Thomas could take her home. Meanwhile, she glanced at the inner office, then closed the door.

“Who is Dr. Allan Baxter?” asked Cassi, ignoring Doris’s attempt to make her feel like a burden.

“Dr. Baxter was a cardiologist who occupied the adjoining professional suite that we took over when we added the extra examination rooms.”

“When did he move?” asked Cassi.

“He didn’t move. He died,” said Doris, sitting down behind her typewriter and directing her attention at the material on her desk. Without looking up at Cassi, she added, “If you’d like to sit down, I’m sure that Thomas should be along soon.” She threaded a sheet of paper into her machine and began to type.

“I think I’d prefer to wait in Thomas’s office.”

As Cassi passed behind her desk, Doris’s head shot up. “Thomas doesn’t like anyone in his office when he’s not there,” she protested with authority.

“That’s understandable,” returned Cassi. “But I’m not anyone. I’m his wife.”

Cassi went back through the door and closed it, half expecting Doris to follow. But the door didn’t open, and presently she could hear the sound of the typewriter.

Going back to Thomas’s desk, she quickly retrieved one of the mail order forms, noting that it was not only printed with Dr. Baxter’s name, but also his DEA narcotics number. Using a direct outside line, Cassi placed a call to the Drug Enforcement Administration. A secretary answered. Cassi introduced herself and said she had a question about a certain physician.

“I think you’d better talk with one of the inspectors,” said the secretary.

Cassi was placed on hold. Her hands were trembling. Presently one of the inspectors came on the line. Cassi gave her credentials, mentioning that she was an M.D. on the staff at the Boston Memorial. The inspector was extremely cordial and asked how he could be of assistance.

“I’d just like some information,” said Cassi. “I was wondering if you keep track of the prescribing habits of individual physicians.”

“Yes, we do,” said the inspector. “We keep records on computer using the Narcotics and Drugs Information Systems. But if you are looking for specific information on a particular physician, I’m afraid you can’t get it. It is restricted.”

“Only you people can see it, is that right?”

“That’s correct, Doctor. Obviously we don’t look at individual prescribing habits unless we are given information by the board of medical examiners or the medical society’s ethics committee that suggests there is an irregularity. Except, of course, if a physician’s prescribing habits change markedly over a short period of time. Then the computer automatically kicks out the name.”

“I see,” said Cassi. “There’s no way for me to check a particular doctor.”

“I’m afraid not. If you have a question about someone, I’d suggest you raise it with the medical society. I’m sure you understand why the information is classified.”

“I suppose so,” said Cassi. “Thanks for your time.”

Cassi was about to hang up when the inspector said, “I can tell you if a specific doctor is duly registered and actively prescribing, but not the amount. Would that help?”

“It sure would,” said Cassi. She gave Dr. Allan Baxter’s name and DEA number.

“Hang on,” said the inspector. “I’ll enter this into the computer.”

As Cassi waited, she heard the outer door close. Then she heard Thomas’s voice. With a surge of anxiety she stuffed the drug order form into her pocket. As Thomas came through the door the inspector came back on the line. Cassi smiled self-consciously.

“Dr. Baxter is active and up-to-date with a valid number.”

Cassi didn’t say anything. She just hung up.

Thomas was both talkative and solicitous as he drove Cassi home. If he’d been angry at her presence in his office, he’d hidden the fact beneath a welter of questions about how she was feeling. Although Cassi insisted she felt fine, Thomas had made her wait by the hospital entrance so that he could run and bring the car around.

Cassi was thankful for Thomas’s attentiveness, but she was so upset by what she had just learned from the Drug Enforcement Administration that she remained silent most of the way home. She now understood how Thomas managed to procure his drugs without detection. He’d supply Allan Baxter’s narcotics registration. All he had to do was fill out a form every year and send in five dollars. With the number and some idea of the level at which Dr. Baxter had been prescribing before he died, Thomas could obtain plenty of drugs. Probably more than he could consume.

And the fact that he had resorted to such deception made it clear that his problem was more extensive than Cassi had allowed herself to believe.

His behavior had been so normal this last week she let herself hope that he had already begun to control his abuse. Perhaps they could talk further when they were away.

“I have some bad news,” said Thomas, breaking into her thoughts.

Cassi turned. She saw his eyes flick over at her for the briefest instant as if to make certain he had her attention.

“Before I left the OR today I got a call from a hospital in Rhode Island. They’re bringing in a patient for emergency surgery tonight. I tried to get someone else to take the case because I wanted to be with you, but there was no one available. In fact, after I make sure you’re comfortable, I’ll have to be on my way.”

Cassi didn’t respond. She was almost glad Thomas would stay over at the hospital. It would give her a chance to decide what to do. Maybe she could document the amount of drugs Thomas was taking. There was still the chance he’d stopped.

“You do understand?” asked Thomas. “I didn’t have any choice about it.”

“I understand,” said Cassi.

Thomas drove up to the house, insisting on getting out and opening the car door for Cassi. It was something he hadn’t bothered to do since their first dates.

As soon as they were inside, Thomas insisted that she go directly up to the morning room.

“Where is Harriet?” asked Cassi when Thomas followed her with a pitcher of ice water.

“She took the afternoon off to visit her aunt,” said Thomas. “But don’t worry. I’m sure she made something for you to eat.”

Cassi wasn’t worried. She could certainly make herself dinner, but it seemed odd not to have Mrs. Summer bustling about.

“What about Patricia?” asked Cassi.

“I’ll take care of everything,” said Thomas. “I want you to relax.”

Cassi lay back on the chaise and allowed Thomas to settle a comforter over her lap. With her backlog of psychiatric reading at her fingertips, she had plenty to do.

“Can I get you anything else?” asked Thomas.

Cassi shook her head.

Thomas bent and kissed her forehead. Before he left he dropped a travel folder in her lap.

Cassi opened it and found two American Airlines tickets.

“Something for you to look forward to while I’m gone. Meanwhile, get a good night’s sleep.”

Cassi reached up and put her arms around Thomas’s neck. She hugged him with as much force as she could muster.

Thomas disappeared into the connecting bathroom, being careful to close the door quietly. Cassi heard the toilet flush. When he reappeared, he kissed her again and told her he’d call after surgery if it wasn’t too late.