We'll Meet Again

61

Between bites of the lunch the housekeeper had served on a tray in his office, Calvin Whitehall barked orders to Lou Knox. He’d been in a foul mood all morning, partly, Lou suspected, because the Fran Simmons situation was getting under his skin. Lou knew that she was persistently calling for an interview and was refusing to be put off by Cal ’s vague promises of trying to set up something. From the talk he had overheard between Jenna and Cal, Lou also knew that Simmons had been scheduled to see Peter Black at noon that day.

When the private phone rang at 12:30, Lou had a feeling it would be Black, calling to report on the meeting. His instincts were right, and whatever it was that Black had to say sent Cal into a rage. “What did you say when she asked why Gary sent for you? If she picks up that scent…Why did you even see her in the first place? You know you can’t do anything but hurt yourself. It doesn’t take any brains to know that.”

When Cal slammed down the phone, he looked almost apoplectic. It rang again almost immediately, and his sharp tone quickly softened when he realized who the caller was. “Yes, Doctor, I’ve spoken to Peter, as a matter of fact just a moment ago…No, he didn’t tell me anything special. Should he have?”

Lou knew that the caller had to be Adrian Logue, the ophthalmologist, or whatever he claimed to be, who lived at the farmhouse in West Redding. For some reason that Lou didn’t understand, both Whitehall and Black-and before that, Gary Lasch-always treated Logue with kid gloves. Over the years, Lou had occasionally driven Cal out to the farmhouse. It was never a long stay, though, and Lou always had waited in the car.

He’d seen Logue up close only once or twice-a skinny, mild-looking, gray-haired guy, who by now must be in his seventies. It was clear to Lou from watching his boss’s expression that whatever the doctor was telling Cal was sending him over the edge.

It was always a bad sign when Cal went cold instead of exploding. As Lou watched, Cal ’s face froze into a tight, icy mask, and his eyes took on the veiled, slit-eyed look that reminded Lou of a tiger about to spring.

When Cal spoke, his voice was controlled but awesome in its confidence and authority. “Doctor, I have every respect for you, but you had absolutely no right to insist Peter Black go through with this procedure, and he had no right to follow your wishes. I can’t think of anything more unnecessarily risky, particularly at this time. Under no circumstances can you be present when the reaction sets in. As usual, you will have to be satisfied with the videotape.”

Lou couldn’t hear what Dr. Logue was saying, but he could tell the pitch of his voice was rising.

Cal interrupted him. “Doctor, I guarantee that you will have the tape tonight.” He hung up the phone abruptly and gave Lou a look that made him know he was in serious trouble.

“I believe I indicated to you that Fran Simmons was a problem,” he said. “It’s time to address that problem.”