Resurrection Dreams (19 page)

“Fine,” Jack said.

“Charlie. I…”

“Now, I won’t hear any more arguments from you or I just might change my mind.” He scratched his stomach again. Now, the front of his shirt was marked by a thread of blood nearly an inch long.

“You’re bleeding, Charlie.”

“Am I?” He looked down. “So I am.” He sounded amused. “Scratched the scab off, I suppose. Those pesky rose bushes. I was pruning them yesterday. Those thorns are treacherous.”

“Would you like me to have a look?” Vicki asked.

“Lord, no. It’s nothing.” He slipped a finger inside his shirt, rubbed, took it out and glanced at the smear of blood on his fingertip. Then he licked it. “I do suppose I’d better head home and fetch a clean shirt.” To Jack, he said, “Can you have the papers ready for my signature by, say, five o’clock?”

“No problem,” Jack said.

“Fine. I’ll be here waiting. You can go on about your business, now, Vicki. I’m delighted to have you as a partner.”

“Well, thank you. Thank you very much, Charlie.”

“My pleasure.”

As she rose from her chair, Jack smiled at her. “I’ll see you later, Dr. Chandler.”

At a quarter past five that afternoon, Vicki was at her desk reviewing records from Blayton Memorial about the rotator cuff repair surgery on a patient she would be seeing tomorrow for a follow-up examination. She was having a hard time concentrating. All day, her mind had been drifting back to the incredible meeting in Charlie’s office.

She still felt dazed.

A year or two down the road, it might’ve been different; she had hoped to be offered a partnership, eventually. But not this soon. Not after she’d been here a week. It seemed outlandish, unreal.

Wonderful, but troubling. What could’ve prompted Charlie to make such a momentous decision so suddenly?

And to cancel the debt?

Vicki had to believe that something was gravely wrong with him. All that talk about “after I’m gone.” Almost as if he’d just found out he had a terminal illness. He’d claimed to be perfectly fine, but she just couldn’t believe it.

He’d seemed cheerful, though.

Someone knocked on her office door. “Yes?”

The door swung open and Jack Randolph stepped in. “I have the partnership papers for you to countersign.” He came to her desk and handed the stapled packet to her. “After you’ve looked them over, if you’ll initial the bottom of each page and sign the final page.”

Vicki stared at the top sheet and shook her head. “What do you know about all this?”

“Well, the agreement indicates that you’ll take a $4,000.00 draw each month. At the end of each fiscal year, you’ll receive a fifty percent share of any profits. You’ll also assume that portion of any debts incurred by the partnership.”

“Debts?”

“It’s nothing to be concerned about. I had an opportunity to look at the books, and the clinic is in fine shape financially.”

“Do you think I should sign?”

“I sure would, if I were you.”

“Why’s he doing this? It’s so sudden. I just don’t understand.”

“You suspect some ulterior motive?”

“Did he say anything to you…about his health?”

“Nothing that you didn’t hear.”

“It seems so weird. As if he thinks he might be dying, or something.”

“I don’t think you should be too concerned about that. Certainly not on the basis of his decisions this morning.”

“Why would he do it, though?”

“I’ve seen similar behavior quite a few times with people who come in to have their wills drawn up. They suddenly get an urge, feel they absolutely have to do it right away. Sometimes, it’s because they just had a close call of some kind and they suddenly realize they aren’t going to live forever. Maybe a friend has just died unexpectedly. Or they’re going in for surgery and have a premonition they won’t survive it. Sometimes, it’s as simple as having a birthday. All of a sudden, they can’t let another day go by without having a will. But it’s nothing to worry about. Just humam nature. I think Dr. Gaines suddenly woke up this morning and realized he’d better make you a partner before a safe falls on his head.”

“I hope that’s all it is.” She felt at least a little relieved by Jack’s explanation. “Did he seem all right to you?”

“Maybe a bit confused about a few things. Nothing that struck me as especially odd. But I don’t know the man. You’re probably a better judge of whether…”

“You don’t know him?” Vicki asked.

Jack shook his head. “He phoned me this morning. Said he picked my name out of the yellow pages. Which makes it very interesting that I’m here, since he might just as easily have chosen a different attorney. Enough to make a person wonder about such things as Fate. I’ve been wanting to see you again, Dr. Chandler.”

All she could manage was, “Oh?”

“We didn’t have much chance to get acquainted, last time.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. You kind of caught me at a bad moment.”

“I’m sure it must’ve been a shock, realizing you weren’t alone.”

“I didn’t expect to find someone sitting on top of a slide at that hour. That’s for sure. You do it often?”

“Once in a while. I’m an early riser.”

Vicki found herself smiling. “So you like to leap out of bed and hot-foot it to the nearest playground?”

“Oh, I take my time. I just wander around and sniff the morning and listen to the silence. It’s a nice time of the day. I guess you know that. It’s one of the reasons I’d like to know you better.”

“Well…”

“If you have a fellow waiting at home for you, or…”

“No. At least I hope not.”

He gave her an odd look.

“It’s nothing.”

“How would you feel about having dinner with me tonight? Your new business arrangement calls for a celebration, and the Fireside Chalet seems like just the place for that kind of thing. What do you say?”

“Best offer I’ve had all day.” All month, she thought. All year. “Sure,” she said. “I’d like that.”

“Great. I’ll hot-foot it home and make the reservations. Does eight o’clock sound good?”

“Fine.”

She scribbled Ace’s address and telephone number onto a prescription pad, tore off the sheet and gave it to him. “Can you read that?”

“Your handwriting’s pretty good, for a doctor.”

“I’m still new at it.” She glanced down at the agreement papers.

“No hurry about that,” Jack told her. “You should take your time and read it carefully before you sign. Just give it to Dr. Gaines before you leave, and keep a copy for yourself.”

“All right.”

“See you at about a quarter till eight?”

Vicki nodded. Jack, backed away, smiling, a look on his face as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck. “Well, see you,” he said.

“See you.”

He went out the door.

Melvin and Patricia were in the living room watching television when the doorbell rang. The clock on the VCR read 9:01. “Now, that’s prompt,” Melvin said. “Wait here.”

Patricia stayed on the couch, but watched over her shoulder as he went to the door. He peered through the peephole. “It’s all right,” he told her. Then he opened the door.

And staggered back as Charlie Gaines threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around Melvin.

“Hey, hey, cut it out,” he said, patting the man’s back.

Charlie squeezed him hard.

“Come on, let go, now.”

Charlie released him. Melvin shut the door and locked it. When he turned around, the doctor was wiping tears from his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’m all right. You won’t make me leave again, will you?”

“Depends.”

“I did everything like you told me.”

He took Charlie by the arm and led him to the couch. Charlie sat down in the middle. As Melvin sat beside him, Patricia scurried around both of the men and squeezed in between the end of the couch and Melvin. She put her arm across his shoulders. Melvin slid a hand up her bare thigh and under the draping tail of the big blue police uniform shirt she had worn away from Pollock’s apartment. “Charlie and me, we’ve got stuff to talk over. So just sit quiet.”

Though her eyes looked troubled, she nodded.

Melvin started to take his hand away as he turned toward Charlie. Patricia grabbed his hand and stopped it. “Let go,” he said in a firm voice.

Pouting, she released his hand.

He faced Charlie, and found the man scowling at Patricia. “Did you make sure nobody followed you here?”

“I checked very carefully.”

“Good. Were there any problems?”

“No problems at all.”

“Vicki didn’t put up a fuss about you giving her the partnership?”

“She suspected I was ill.”

“Shit, you’re not ill, you’re dead.”

Charlie laughed. “If this is dead, I don’t know what I was worried about all those years.”

“She went and signed the papers, though?”

“Sure did.”

“Where did you leave them?”

“Exactly where you told me to.”

“In the top drawer of your desk?”

“That’s right.”

“And you took care of the loan?”

“I did. She tried to talk me out of that, but I told her just what you said and she acquiesced.”

“How much was the debt?”

“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

Wouldn’t even take a car from me, Melvin thought, but didn’t bat an eyelash over twenty-five grand and a partnership from the old doctor.

“How’d you find out how much it was?” he asked.

“Thelma gave me the books.”

“Did she suspect anything?”

“Thelma? No, I don’t believe she did.”

“And you didn’t say anything about me, did you?”

“To Thelma?”

“To anyone.”

“No. Nary a word.”

“What about the lawyer. Did he give you any trouble?”

“He was just fine. He took care of everything.”

Melvin leaned back. Sighing, he put a hand on Charlie’s leg, a hand on Patricia’s. “Well,” he said, “it sure looks good.” To Charlie, he said, “Did Vicki seem real happy about the whole thing?”

“She appeared more confused and worried than happy.”

“Well, it must’ve been a pretty big surprise. I guess she’ll be real happy once it all sinks in.”

“I don’t know how come you wanted to bother,” Patricia muttered.

“None of your business.”

“You’ve got me. I don’t see why…”

“Don’t give me any of your shit, or I’ll lock you up.”

“Are you planning to revivify Vicki?” Charlie asked.

“None of your business.”

“In my personal opinion, it would be a grand plan. After all, she’s a lovely young lady.”

Melvin smashed an elbow into Charlie’s side. “Don’t you even think about her that way.”

He hung his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest anything untoward. However, it doesn’t seem especially fair to me that you should have Patricia and yet I’m without a woman.”

“You’re an old man.”

“There may be snow on the roof, but I assure you there’s still plenty of fire in the…”

“You’re not getting Vicki, so forget it you old fart.”

“Perhaps a different woman, then. I would certainly be appreciative.”

“This ain’t a fucking dating service!”

“I’m sorry. It was only a suggestion.”

“Keep your suggestions to yourself.”

“Yes. I will. I’m sorry.”

“Stay here and watch the TV,” Melvin told him. He squeezed Patricia’s leg. “Come with me.”

She gave Charlie a look of triumph, then stood and followed Melvin upstairs. He led her into the bedroom. Her shirt was already unbuttoned. She plucked open his robe, pressed herself against him, and pushed her tongue into his mouth as her hands roamed his back and rump. Soon, he eased her away. “Get in bed.”

She let the shirt fall to the floor. Its badge hit the carpet with a soft thump. She climbed onto the bed, crawled to the middle, and lay down. Gazing at him, she licked her lips. She caressed her breasts, pulled at the nipples.

“Stop that.”

She folded her hands beneath her head.

“Now, go to sleep.”

“You want to play, don’t you?”

“Maybe later.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I have stuff to do.”

“With Charlie?”

“Yeah.”

She frowned and pushed her lips out.

“I’ll be back in a while.”

“I bet you’re gonna play with Charlie.”

“Fat chance.”

“Sure.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

That brightened her up. “Honest?”

“Yep.”

She nodded, smiling, then frowned again. This time, she looked confused rather than pouty. “He’s dead already. How can you kill him when he’s dead already?”

“I’ll figure a way,” Melvin said.

Though the problem had been lingering in the back of his mind since he first came up with the scheme to use Charlie Gaines, he’d been too busy to worry about the details of how he might go about rekilling the man.

The first order of business had been abducting Charlie. That turned out to be easy with the help of the revolver Patricia had taken from Pollock. He’d simply hiked over to Charlie’s house last night, knocked on the door and stuck the gun in his face. The man offered no resistence, since he didn’t want to be shot. He drove his car. Melvin sat in back with the muzzle pressed against his head.

Then came the killing of Charlie. He got him down into the basement and held the cocked revolver in his face while Patricia strapped him to the table. Then he suffocated the old man with cellophane. Simple. No problem at all until Patricia climbed onto the table, all set to bite his neck. A whack on the ear put a stop to that.

Then came the matter of bringing him back. That took Patricia’s mind off biting him. She was probably so fascinated by the process because she realized that she’d gone through the same treatment, herself. She’d actually begged to help, so Melvin allowed her to chew the Root of Life and tongue the messy glop into stomach gash. Then he let her do the stitching. Why not? She was a woman, after all, so she’d likely had more experience than Melvin when it came to needles and threads. She did a fine job of it, too. She acted happy and proud while she worked. Only after Charlie revived did she start getting moody.

Training him came next. Since he woke up with amnesia, the same as Patricia, it took all night to prepare him for Monday’s tasks. He’d been a quick learner, but Patricia had made a constant pest of herself. Starting with snide remarks about Charlie. “I don’t think he’s so special…He’s awfully old and ugly…He’s not very smart, is he?” Melvin ignored her, so she tried being seductive. She stripped and tried a variety of poses. She caressed herself, pulled at herself. When Melvin failed to respond, she found a pair of scissors. That was the last straw. Though Melvin didn’t want to be bothered, he didn’t care to have Patricia mutilate herself. So he took the scissors away, led her up to the bedroom and wasted a precious hour appeasing her. Then he locked her in the room and returned to Charlie.