To Sleep... Perchance to Die Page 7

  Carlton blew a cloud of smoke from his cigar into the stuffy air. “When we’re together like this, I can’t help thinking about the time you saved my ass in college. I laugh about it now, but it wasn’t funny when it happened.”

  Jake, who smoked when he was with Carlton, was puffing on a cigarette. Both had smoked in college, and it seemed the natural thing to do on their get-togethers. He said, “We were kids and did stupid things without thinking. I was glad to help.” With light sarcasm, “You would have done the same for me, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  The combined cigarette and cigar smoke filled the room like a Maine fog. Carlton continued, “Why I decided to steal a valuable painting from the library, I don’t know. And to add to my problem, I jimmied a door, so it made it breaking and entering. I could have gone to prison and become someone’s bitch.”

  “You loved that painting. I can’t count the times you said that.”

  “Yes, I did. An original Axeldon.” Carlton exhaled smoke as Jake flicked his cigarette on the floor and crushed it before kicking it into the water. “It was a Friday night. I had been drinking but not that much when the whim struck me.”

  “An example of the famous Carlton mantra, resist everything but temptation.” Jake chuckled.

  Carlton grunted, “That’s funny. But if I got caught . . . well, you know my family. They’d never forgive or forget my smearing the family name. Even my closest friends would have ostracized me.”

  “You were in a jam.” Jake leaned in his chair and balanced on the two back legs. “I figured that if the painting was returned without damage, the university would drop the matter. They didn’t want the negative publicity associated with the theft of one of their most valuable works of art. I simply left it on the library steps at three a.m. on a Sunday morning and called the campus police to let them know it was there. Luckily, I was right and we never heard another thing about it.”

  Carlton patted Jake on the shoulder. “And you were willing to take the blame, if the plan backfired. You’re a true friend and that’s why I’ve always told you if there’s anything I can do to pay you back, let me know.”

  Jake returned the front legs of his chair to the floor and took another cigarette from his pack. It was filled with marijuana. He lit it, inhaled deep, and held it before exhaling. “Yes, you’re always reminding me.” Nodding to Carlton, “Every time you get a new cell number, you give it to me.” He continued in a joking manner, “Which, in my opinion, you change them way too much.”

  “I have to. It doesn’t take long for the numbers to get out. If I didn’t change them, I’d be hounded by charities and other organizations wanting a piece of my hard-earned fortune.”

  Jake stared into the fishing hole. Shaking his head, “Problems of the rich, I guess.”

  They sat smoking in silence for several minutes. Jake took a last drag from his joint and flicked it into the fishing hole. “We should close these things before one of us falls in.”

  “Yeah, we should,” Carlton agreed.

  Jake stood, stretched, and walked to the corner to retrieve the two hole covers leaning against the wall. After placing them over the openings, he stepped on each to ensure they were in place.

  Returning to his chair, he waited a bit before saying. “I need that favor now.”

  Carlton removed his cigar from his mouth and appeared to contemplate Jake’s words. “What is it? I’ll do all I can to help. Knowing you, I assume it’s legal.” Carlton laughed.

  Jake’s confidence was boosted. “It is, and I might as well get to the point. I need five hundred thousand dollars to give to Rachel so she’ll give me an uncontested divorce. You’re my only source of such a large amount of money until I begin private practice.”

  Carlton took a long drag on his cigar and blew a cloud of gray smoke. “Goddammit, she’s asking for a lot. I’ll give it to you, but it’s important to make sure a money transfer of this size passes IRS, SEC, and Banking Commission smell tests. Bastards would love another reason to investigate me. Carlton shook his head and pursed his lips in a gesture of disgust.

  He continued, “I’ll have my people draw up a loan agreement with a fair interest rate. It’ll say you’re personally on the hook for repaying the loan. That should satisfy the government.”

  Carlton stood and began to pace, “I’ll be back in Pittsburgh on Tuesday. You’ll have the papers no later than the end of next week. Sign and overnight them to me. The money will be deposited to your account within forty-eight hours. Soon enough?”

  “Absolutely. You’re more than generous, and I really appreciate what you’re doing. You’ve made it possible for me to start a new life.”

  “You did me a favor once.”

  “Thanks.”

  “For the record, there’s no time limit on the money. You can repay it whenever and however you prefer. And I don’t want any interest although it has to be included in the agreement.”

  Carlton tossed the cigar on the floor and with his heel ground it to a black gunk. Reaching into his pants pocket, he removed a small leather bag. After loosening two strings, he removed a wad of marijuana and proceeded to make two, as he was fond of calling them, doobies. With a grin, he handed one to Jake. “By the way, what’s her name?”

  Jake lit the proffered cigarette and took a drag. He exhaled, “Her name is Mai . . .

  What potions have I drunk of Siren tears …

  Windham, Connecticut: Bret suspected Jake had chosen the Windham area as an ideal location to practice because of its proximity to the University of Connecticut in the Storrs district of Mansfield. In other words, its proximity to the men’s and women’s basketball teams. Jake’s friends knew he was a rabid basketball fan, and the university produced many of the finest college teams in the game’s history. Had basketball been the major reason for choosing northeast Connecticut, Bret would have quashed such foolishness. It was not the case. Prior to the visit, an internet search revealed the Windham area had the qualities they were seeking in a place in which to set up a practice.

  Mai, Bret, and Jake arrived in Windham on a Friday morning and spent the day exploring. Although patchy snow covered the ground, the trio had entered a region filled with vistas seen in paintings and on postcards. Willimantic and Mansfield, the two major towns, and their hinterland of villages and hamlets encompassed a large and picturesque geographic area.

  They shared a pizza and drank beer in one of Windham’s many pizza restaurants before procuring rooms at a motel. Mai and Bret took a room, Jake another. On Saturday they explored, and at the end of the day, were convinced of wanting to live and work there.

  To get maximum exposure to the residents, a practice building advantage, Jake and Bret decided to live in different towns. No one was surprised when Jake volunteered to settle in Mansfield. Bret chose Windham. Since Mai had accompanied Bret and all signs pointed a return with him, he asked for her opinion. She agreed Windham would be delightful.

  Before returning to the motel, the group decided to have dinner at a well known historic restaurant on Route 195 between Windham and Mansfield. In colonial times it had been a busy inn frequented by horse drawn coaches filled with passengers who were traveling between Hartford and Albany.

  At the entrance of the establishment, Mai clapped her hands with delight and pointed to a poster. “Look, they’re having a wine tasting.” Turning to her friends and sounding like a child begging to open Christmas gifts, “Can we give it a try . . . can we?”

  “Sure, it’ll be fun,” Bret said.

  “Fine by me,” was Jake’s response. Mai glanced at him and gave a slight nod.

  The hostess explained the event as she escorted them to their table. The wine tasting dinner would consist of several gourmet courses from appetizers to dessert, each accompanied by an appropriate wine. She assured them they would not be disappointed.

  The main course ended, and Bret signaled the wine steward to pour him another pinot noir. As he and the steward cha
tted, his attention was drawn from the table. Mai scanned the room to ensure no diners were watching and winked at Jake who slipped a liquid in Bret’s wine. The steward left.

  Bret stood and held his glass to his friends. “I’d like to propose a toast.” The others raised their glasses. “I want to thank Mai for suggesting the wine tasting. It was a great choice.” Three glasses clinked in unison.

  Dessert was cherry pie. Before taking a bite, Bret placed his arms on the table and laid his head in them, “Man, the wine really hit me. I feel like sleeping.” He yawned, and his eyelids fluttered before closing.

  His friends watched. Jake reached across the table and put a finger on the pulse of the unconscious man. He mouthed to Mai, “He’s out.”

  One of the diners at the table to their left noticed. “Is your friend okay?”

  Jake said, “Nothing serious. Too much wine. This isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

  Mai turned to Jake and said, “It’s time for us to go. He’s sleeping like a baby.”

  Jake left his chair and went to his future partner. He hefted Bret from the table, put the unconscious man’s arm over his shoulder, and carry-walked him through the dining area. Mai summoned the waiter. “He’s overdone a good thing,” she said as she paid the check.

  Bret slept in the back seat on the drive to the motel. Mai, not sure of the effects of the valium in the wine, leaned into Jake and said, “How long will he be out?”

  With his index finger to his lips in a hushing manner, Jake whispered, “He drank a lot. Wine and valium is a potent mixture. Especially, liquid valium. It gets into the system quick. He’ll be dead to the world for eight, maybe ten hours. I wish we had more time, but we have to be satisfied with what we get.”

  Mai kissed Jake’s ear and murmured, “Let’s make satisfied the operative word.”

  Bret woke with a pounding head. It took a while to focus on the clock atop the nightstand. Eleven thirty. Tired and lethargic, he managed to dress. His traveling companions were in the coffee shop attached to the motel. Mai beckoned with a pat of her hand on the seat.

  Jake’s voice screeched in his brain. “Welcome to the land of the living, old buddy.”

  Bret could taste bile and wasn’t in the mood to be teased. “Very funny, but I’m not laughing. If you want to help me, get me aspirin. I need aspirin. And be quick about it.”

  Mai opened her bag, rummaged, and found a container of Tylenol. She handed it to him. “Will this do?”

  He opened the container poured four capsules into his hand. Grabbing Mai’s coffee he swallowed them in one gulp, emptying the cup.

  She refilled from the pot on the table and said, “You were the life of the party at dinner.”

  Bret raised his sore eyebrows.

  Mai told him about his drunken shenanigans at the restaurant. She ended with, “As for the other patrons, most couldn’t stop laughing although a few wanted you escorted out. One guy even threatened to call the police.”

  Shaking his head, Bret said, “I hope I didn’t embarrass us too much.”

  “You didn’t. It was all in good fun,” Mai said. Changing the subject, “I did an Internet search on Windham this morning and found some interesting facts.”

  Jake and Bret looked at her.

  “For example, it was the origin of the Boom Box Parade. A very popular local disk-jockey came up with the idea one Fourth of July. Now, tons of towns and cities across the country have them.”

  “No kidding?” Jake said.

  “That’s not all. You know the bridge with the frog statues we liked. People from all over the world come to see it. Those are just a few of the things I found. Not bad for a place tucked away in a sleepy corner of the State.”

  Seeing that Bret’s eyes were glazed and he was about to fall asleep, Jake stood and said, “Time to go.”

  On the trip to New York, Bret resolved to control his drinking. He didn’t want Mai to think he was an alcoholic.

  “Hope my drinking isn’t worrying you,” Bret said. He and Mai were in his bed. “Even though I binged, I don’t think I’m in danger of becoming an alcoholic.” Nodding, “I haven’t had a drink since we left Windham.”

  Mai leaned on an elbow and faced him, “No, I’m not worried,” she said. “Don’t even think about it.”

  He faced her. “It’s difficult not to. Alcoholism and drug addiction are real problems for doctors. You know, stress, access to drugs, and all that.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder, “Believe me, you don’t have a drinking problem. Just blowing off steam when you get a chance. It’s only natural.”

  “That’s about what Seth Stevens said. He’s a psychiatry resident. Asked if it interfered with my work. I told him no, it only happened when I was with you guys. He’s happy to talk to me about it … you and Jake too, if you want. He said to get in touch with him right away if things get worse.”

  “That’s great,” Mai said. “He can monitor your work and I’ll monitor your play.” She smiled, “You had no problem in my playground a few minutes ago.”

  There was a time when Bret would have blushed upon hearing such words. “If I ever do, I’ll be pounding on Seth’s door.”

  Mai pulled him on top of her. “Now, let me show you my wildest ride.”

  The following two months Jake made day and weekend trips to Connecticut and found an office to rent on the outskirts of Windham. Patients from all parts of the region would have easy access to it.

  “Your hands can’t be tied by my reviewing everything you do,” Bret told Jake. “You have carte blanche on all decisions.” Bret wanted the renovation and equipping of the office to go without a hitch. Their goal was to have the office open for business by the time Jake completed his training at the end of June.

  Using the money borrowed from Carlton, Jake finalized his uncontested divorce from Rachel. Their last words fit with everything that had gone before. “I never want to see you again. May you die and rot in Hell,” was Rachel’s comment. Jake’s return was, “Likewise, bitch.”

  Jake rented a two bedroom condo in the Storrs section of Mansfield. His boast was, “It’s only a ten minute walk to the university where most of the home basketball games are played.”

  He hired three employees, a receptionist, Brittney LaFreniere, a dental assistant, Sue Palmer, and an office manager, Corrie Hunter.

  Corrie was a forty-one year old registered nurse. She had the bronzed skin and discolored fingers of a heavy smoker, and there wasn’t an ounce of extra flesh on her bones. During the interview, she kept her hands moving in an attempt to hide their shaking. Jake suspected a drug habit.

  Reviewing her resume as he spoke, “It says on your application you worked at the Fenton Convalescent Home for two years.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.” Corrie shifted in her chair.

  “Why did you leave?” Jake was aware of misuse of narcotics by employees of convalescent homes. It involved stealing narcotics intended for patients and using them to satisfy a drug habit. Water would be substituted for the narcotic and injected into the patient. Because of a facility’s fear of bad publicity, an employee who was caught might not be prosecuted but discharged without mention of wrongdoing in the record. In many cases the offender got a job at a similar institution where an opportunity to handle narcotics existed.

  “Umm, I wanted to try something different, and, ahh, find a place where I could really use my nursing skills.”

  Her answer convinced Jake she used illegal drugs, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t hire her. He was a schemer and planner and had dealt with addicts throughout training. Should the need arise, people like her could be manipulated and coerced into doing anything he wanted. Making her a good employee would be child’s play.

  “Please answer honestly. Do you take drugs?” His manner was polite but blunt.

  Without a word, Corrie stood and walked to the door.

  “Wait, don’t go,” Jake half-shouted as he got up from his chair.

&nbs
p; Keeping her back to him, Corrie stopped and let a few seconds pass. Radiating defiance, she turned. “I guess you must be very proud of yourself. You caught me. Now let me get out of here with what little dignity I have left.”

  Jake raised a calming hand. “Take it easy, you don’t know what I was going to say. I had to confirm my suspicion.”

  Corrie grimaced.

  Jake continued, “Your drug habit shouldn’t be a problem. We can deal with it.” He sat. In a soothing voice he said, “Come back and have a seat.”

  Corrie did as he wished clutching her hands in her lap as if in prayer. “I’m willing to listen to what you have to say.”

  Jake dangled a carrot, “Look, it can be arranged so you don’t have to scrounge for drugs.”

  Corrie betrayed no emotion.

  He smiled as if they were fellow conspirators. “It’s only a matter of creative record keeping. You know what I mean?”

  A slight movement of Corrie’s head.

  “You have enough experience working in health care facilities for me to make you my office manager. It’ll give you access to what you need.”

  Jake looked at her, “What I’m about to say is critical to our working relationship.” He paused for emphasis, “You’re never to be high here, or I’ll fire you on the spot. You won’t be able to prove a thing against me. On the other hand, what you do out of the office is your business. In addition, you’ll be my personal confidant. Know what I mean by that?”

  Corrie shrugged her shoulders. “I think it means you expect sex.” She lowered her voice although they were alone, “I can give you oral sex. I’m told I’m good at it.”

  The words caught Jake by surprise. He was between falling on the floor laughing and vomiting into his wastebasket. Shaking his head, “No, that’s not it. That’s not what I meant at all. What it means is I want you to be there when I’d like to talk to someone. Or,” he added, “If I need a favor.”

  Corrie retreated from her faux pas, “Oh. Sure. For a moment I thought you were like someone else I used to work for.” Seeming sincere, “Of course, I’m grateful for what you’re willing to do for me, and you can count on me. I won’t disappoint you.” Looking at Jake’s handsome face, she said with a wink, “If you ever want the favor I mentioned, don’t hesitate to ask.”