Cary sighed a breath of relief. "Oh, thank you, doctor."
"No problem," the doctor smiled and looked up at Cary from his ministrations. His irises were glowing bright red, just like a demon from a cheap horror movie.
Cary jumped a little but stayed remarkably cool. The doctor turned his head, and when Cary looked again, the eyes were their usual twinkling cerulean blue. It was only a trick of the light.
"I'm sending Nurse Zito in to take you to the x-ray lab, and I won't see you again," said Dr. O'Brien. "But if the results come back okay--which I don't see why they wouldn't--I'll call in a prescription for you tomorrow morning."
"Okay," said Cary. "Thank you, doctor." He avoided looking the doctor in his face as they shook hands in parting.
Cary waited a few moments more, pondering his vision. What had he actually seen? Was it really only a trick of the light? Had it been an isolated incident, Cary might have let himself believe that. But after the puke and the maggots...Cary was afraid to contemplate the whole thing. The brain has a way of blocking out and rationalizing life's more horrible aspects, and that, Cary realized, was exactly what he was doing. But he didn't care. He happily let his brain weave a little cocoon around him and waited until the nurse arrived.
She took him through the x-ray room, tested his reflexes, took some blood, but did nothing out of the ordinary. Had Cary really been afraid of a chemical imbalance in his brain, it would have been wise for him to ask to be referred to neurologist...but, deep down, he really didn't want to know.
He would take a few pills and the problem would disappear.
"How did it go?" was the first thing Diana said when Cary walked in the door that afternoon. Her brow was furrowed with anxiety, but Cary had to giggle, because she had a white streak of baking soda across her nose which threw some comic relief into her concerned countenance. She wore a frilly apron and slippers and looked like quite the little homemaker. He loved her so.
"Fine," he smiled as he dusted the powder from her nose with his finger. "In fact, I got a clean bill of health." At least so far, he added silently to himself. Why worry her about waiting for test results?
"Great," she beamed, walking back into the kitchen. "I thought you would, so I figured I'd raise your cholesterol and increase your fat and calorie intake with a nice, fresh-baked chocolate cake."
"Mmmm...killing me with kindness. Thank you, sweetie." He gave her a hug from behind as she peeked into the oven's glass window. "Didn't you have to work today?"
"No, I'm taking the week off. I said I'd take care of you, and Monroe doesn't mind covering for me. Things have been kind of slow lately anyhow."
"Well, then, I have a surprise for you," Cary said impulsively. "Let's go to the country."
"Really?" Diana's pixie-like face seemed to beam from within. "Do you really mean it? Oh, Cary, that would be so wonderful--for both of us!"
Cary smiled gently, feeling calm and relaxed. "Yes, yes it would." He hoped that a combination of Dr. O'Brien's sedatives and the fresh country air would do him a world of good. Then when he came back home, completely refreshed, revitalized and reinvented, he would write The Great American Novel. No problem.
On his way home from the doctor's, Cary had decided that he would write horror no more. It had obviously gotten under his skin, and it simply wasn't worth it. He didn't care what Carousel had to say...any publisher would be happy to have him. He was, after all, a bestselling author. No one could take that away from him.
"When are we going, honey?" Diana purred, putting her slender arms around him.
"Let's go tomorrow. I want to get out of here," he hugged her body close to his.
Diana blinked. "Tomorrow? I don't know. I have to call Mother and let her know we're coming, not to mention work. I'll have to make sure Monroe can cover for me." Her mind was racing. "And, we'll have to call Birds of a Feather to take care of Tweetie. Hang on, I'll call Mother," she extricated herself from Cary's embrace and went rushing off to find her cell.
Cary sat down at the barstool and leafed absently through the newspaper. He really would rather have stayed in a motel, but he knew Diana wouldn't hear of it. She loved her widowed mother and got along with her perfectly. Cary, on the other hand, always felt as though Diana's mother didn't approve of him--or Diana, for that matter. She was an unyielding, Puritanical woman who strongly disapproved of her daughter's independence. Cary actually got the feeling she begrudged Diana any happiness that didn't include her. Cary was frankly surprised that she still spoke to Diana after the divorce. Cary felt certain divorce was one of the seven deadly sins in Marlisa Moon's book.
When he'd spent the weekend there once before with Diana, Marlisa had insisted that they sleep in separate bedrooms. But their days had been free to canoe on the lake behind her mother's estate, take long walks in the beautiful countryside and go for breakfast at the little country inn that was in the center of town. Of course, Marlisa had insisted on making special dinners for them, so they'd had to eat in at night.
Despite the drawback of having to spend time with Diana's mother, Cary was looking forward to finally taking his long-awaited vacation. He would have to do nothing but lounge by day and sleep peacefully by night. Diana's mother lived in a gorgeous Victorian-era estate, all of which she insisted on taking care of by herself--at least on the inside. She did have gardeners to keep up the grounds, which were as lovely as they were extensive. The estate had been inherited by her late husband, who had been killed in Grenada; he'd died shortly before Diana was born.
"Okay, we're all set," Diana called cheerfully as she came back into the kitchen. "Mother was flustered, of course, but I told her not to make a fuss for us. She will anyway, though."
"Yeah," Cary laughed slightly, remembering what a fretter Marlisa had been about the house. "I never did ask you what she thought of your divorce and then getting back together with me..."
"Don't ask!" Diana's eyes rolled skyward. "She went ballistic at first. Well, you know her. She said that I was going straight to Hell, do not pass go, the whole nine yards. But in the end, she accepted it." Diana smiled sweetly. "I'm all she has, and she does love me." She sniffed the air delicately. "Hey, haven't you been keeping an eye on the cake? I think it's burning!" She rushed to the oven and opened it quickly. A puff of black smoke came rushing out. "Darn!" she exclaimed. "Couldn't you smell that?" She looked accusingly at Cary as she frantically gathered up a stack pot-holders and removed the cake from the smoldering inferno.
"Sorry," Cary smiled, unruffled. "I thought you were making the cake, not me."
"Oh, darn it," Diana fussed as she looked critically at the steaming cake. "Well, I guess I can scrape off the burnt parts when it cools."
"That's what you usually do anyway," Cary grinned, ducking as she threw a pot holder at him. Diana was sweet but her cooking was so bad they usually prayed after eating.
He got up and crossed the kitchen to where she was standing. He untied her apron strings and suggested that they try doing some shaking and baking of their own. Diana smiled and put her arms around his neck, relieved that he seemed back to normal. She was pleased with herself for suggesting that he go and see her doctor; all it had taken was a little reassurance from a professional. The sedatives wouldn't be given to him until the next morning, but Diana was certain she could make sure Cary slept very well tonight.
An hour later they sat in bed, eating pieces of the unfrosted chocolate cake with their fingers and drinking cold milk. Carmen was on the opera channel, and Cary sat enraptured while Diana read Vogue.
When a commercial came on, Cary turned to Diana and said, "So, are you looking forward to tomorrow?"
Diana smiled and blushed. "You know I am. I can't wait to spend some quality time together...just you and me."
"And your mother. Diana, are you sure you wouldn't rather stay in that charming little bed and breakfast in town?"
Diana's smile turned into a frown of consternation. "You know that would devastate her. Besides,
what would she think, you and me together in a hotel? She would be mortified. All of her friends live in town, you know."
"What, does she think you're still a virgin?" Cary snickered derisively as he reached under the sheet and tweaked her nipple painfully hard.
Diana jerked away. That wasn't like Cary. They had just made love, and he'd been as tender and passionate as any woman could ever dream. Now, just moments later, he seemed...mean-spirited somehow. She looked at him sharply. "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous." She clutched the sheets to her chest in an exaggerated display of self-protection.
Cary's face suddenly softened. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I guess Marlisa just makes me a little nervous. All that religious talk."
Diana relaxed a little. "I know. But she uses it as a crutch. Ever since my dad died, she's been alone."
"She had you."
"Yes, she had me."
The opera came back on and Cary's eyes were once again riveted on the screen, putting an end to their conversation. Diana wasn't sure if she was relieved or frustrated. Cary seemed so moody lately, but she was determined not to throw in the towel like she did the last time things got rocky. She promised herself that she would ride out the storm with the man she loved, come what may.
After Cary had spent a peaceful night of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep, he was more than a little irritated at being awakened by Tweetie's incessant screeching.
He rolled over and saw the pale gray of dawn's light through the filmy white curtains of his bedroom, and Diana's vague outline beneath the blankets as she slept beside him. Why the hell hadn't she been awakened by that obnoxious bird? He threw the covers off himself in one violent motion, hoping to wake Diana but it didn't work, and stalked into the living room.
"What the hell's your problem?" he grumbled irritably as he peered into Tweetie's cage. The water container was full, and she had plenty of food. She stayed quiet while he inspected her cage, but as soon as he turned away she started squawking again.
He tried to ignore her as he made his breakfast tea, but she just kept on, screeching and squawking in ear piercing tones. What had happened to her beautiful trill? It seemed she reserved that only for Diana now. He punched the brew button on the tea maker and stalked back into the living room. Tweetie stopped the moment she saw him. It was almost as though she was playing a game with him. But she couldn't be that smart, could she? He turned his back to her and started to walk away. The screams started again. He stopped and turned around. She stopped, too. He could have sworn her little beak curved into a smile.
Before Cary could further test her, the telephone rang. He looked at the clock. It was awfully early for anyone to be calling. He picked it up before realizing that it might well be Susan Montgomery. Damn! Why hadn't he let the machine pick it up? "Cary Bouchard," he announced with trepidation, bringing the phone to his ear and steeling himself for a barrage of expletives.
"Mr. Bouchard," said the warm, feminine voice on the other end of the line, "This is Nurse Zito. We met yesterday."
"Yes, I remember." His heart beat a little quicker. "Is there something wrong?" Why else would they be calling so early?
"Oh, no. Quite the contrary. I hope you don't mind my calling at this hour, but I thought you'd want the good news right away. In fact," she lowered her voice gently, "I thought you might have been anxious about getting your results first thing."
Good news? What a relief. "Yes," Cary agreed lightly, as though he really hadn't been worried at all.
"You are completely healthy, according to our tests. Doctor thinks that your only problem is stress. I've already called your prescription in to the all-night pharmacy you requested. You can pick it up any time."
"Oh, well thank you," Cary said, his smile evident in his voice. "Thank you very much." He hung up the phone and walked into the bedroom.
The morning light was now flooding in through the window wall, but still Diana slept on. He walked to edge of the bed, bent down and gently kissed her cheek. "Wake up, sweetie," he said softly. "We've got a vacation to take." Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled dreamily. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty."
"Hi," she answered huskily. "What time is it?" She stretched and yawned, then sat up.
"Early. But we want to get an early start, don't we?"
"Yeah, but I've got to take a shower." Diana rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom. Cary listened for a moment as the water was turned on, then went to the closet to take out a suit and some casual clothes. He opened his overnight bag and stuffed the clothes in, not at all in his usual meticulous manner. Birds of a Feather, the pet-sitting place, didn't even open until 9:00 A.M., but Cary figured he would just call them from Marlisa's place. He had a standing account with them and they had the key to his apartment.
Tweetie began screeching again, and Cary seriously considered opening a window and letting her "accidentally" fly out. Then he felt guilty. Tweetie had once been his whole life; what had happened between them? Then with one of his mercurial mood-twists, he snickered at himself. How pathetic he was, to have been so attached to a stupid little bird that he could easily crush with one hand.
Diana came back into the bedroom, a nude, dripping-wet, pintsized goddess. "What happened to all the towels?" she asked, not without some annoyance.
Cary had used them all, and he hadn't call his maid service to let them know he was back in town. "I'll blow-dry you myself," he said, picking up her left hand and blowing on each finger, one by one.
"Stop," she giggled. "You're being silly."
He was about to let go of her hand when he noticed with shocked alarm that her pinkie nail was painted black. Just like that kid in Dallas! He clutched her hand tightly, crushing her fingers against each other without realizing it.
"Hey!" she exclaimed. "You're hurting me."
Cary dropped her hand and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just admiring your nail polish."
She looked at him with mild irritation and said, "I'm not wearing nail polish."
"Oh, you're not? I'm sorry. It looked as though you had painted your pinkie, but not the rest. I was just looking, that's all."
Diana smiled, "Oh, that. I slammed my finger in the door. Hurt like heck!" She held her hand up for his inspection. There was a blackish purple bruise on the pinkie nail, but no polish.
Cary smiled sympathetically, then walked into the bathroom to get some of his toiletries and his electric razor to pack for the trip. Diana followed him in and grabbed a hand towel off the shelf. "Did you sleep okay last night?"
"Like a baby," he said, thinking to himself what a silly expression that was. Babies didn't sleep well at all. They were either hungry or soiling themselves, crying and whining all night long.
"Good," she grinned, taking her bathrobe from where it hung behind the door and putting it on. "I'm sure looking forward to our week."
"Me, too. I just have to pick up my prescription on the way out of town."
"Sounds like you've got it all figured out," said Diana. She picked up her toothbrush and put a line of paste across it. She ran it under the tap, then began to brush her teeth. "Mother said she was looking forward to seeing you again," Diana said thickly, her mouth full of white foam.
I'll bet she did, Cary thought. "Is that so?" he said agreeably. He would definitely try to get on Marlisa's good side. After, he was going to be marrying her daughter.
"Em-hm." Diana spit out the paste and wiped her mouth on the hand towel. "Have you packed already?" she asked as she left the room.
Cary gathered up his razor, aftershave and deodorant and followed Diana back into the bedroom. "Yep, I've gotten an overnight bag out for you, too."
"An overnight bag? Why, that won't be nearly big enough."
"Come on, we're not going to see the Queen of England, or anything. What do you need? One dressy thing, in case we go out, a pair of jeans, some tops...no nightgown."
"Oh, Cary," she smiled. "Are you going to sneak into my room at night? Maybe climb up the trellis and come i
n through my window?"
Cary smiled at her as he got dressed. She was so sweet. He almost asked her to marry him right then and there, but he wanted it all to be just right. He wanted to take her out to a very fancy restaurant and do something romantic...like maybe have the waiter put the engagement ring in her glass of champagne, or perhaps have a telegram delivered to her at the table with the words "Will you marry me?" on it. After the vacation they would both be so happy and relaxed. And ready to go on with their lives together.
Diana finished packing, nightgown included, and took a final look around the room. "I guess I'm ready as I'll ever be," she announced.
Cary picked up his bag and hers, and they left the penthouse arm in arm.
"This is going to be so much fun," Diana beamed as they rode down in the elevator.
"I'm sorry we didn't do it sooner," Cary said.
"Well, we are now."
As the car began its descent Cary felt his stomach drop like it always did in elevators. It also dropped when he had that dream of being pulled under... Cary thought for a moment about that dream. The first time he'd had it was when he'd gotten that awful flu bug. He'd had it many times since then, and it was always the same. The details were grainy and upon waking he could never remember exactly what he had been doing in the dream, or why he felt such a sense of foreboding. All he could remember was that he was being punished for some reason. He had done something bad, and now he was paying for it. Someone was pulling him down, down, down...but he always managed to break free just before waking.
"Cary?" Diana was standing outside the elevator, looking at him oddly. "Come on."
"Oh," he smiled. "I was just lost in thought." He stepped off the elevator and walked across the lobby with her. The security guard tipped his hat at them as they exited the building.
They walked around the corner and went two blocks to the subterranean parking garage where Cary kept his BMW. It cost him a fortune in rent each month for the space, and he hardly ever drove the car. He knew he should probably just get rid of it but it was so pretty, and now it was finally coming in handy.
The Tragedy Man: A Serial Killer Thriller Page 15
