Part 25 (1/2)
”He's almost almost positive?” I said. positive?” I said.
”You look like you believe him,” Stephanie said to Karrie.
”Well . . . sure I believe him. He's a doctor.”
”Listen, girl. I'm I'm a doctor. My sister's been in a brain ward for two months because of this nonexistent syndrome. Trust me, it exists.” a doctor. My sister's been in a brain ward for two months because of this nonexistent syndrome. Trust me, it exists.”
”But Dr. Perkins is internationally recognized.”
”Karrie,” I said. ”What if he's wrong?”
”He's written books. I found one in the library.”
”A lot of idiots have written books that are in the library. Why not wait a couple of days before making an announcement? If this gets in the news as a fraud, n.o.body'll help us. By Monday either I'll go down or I won't go down, and you'll know once and for all.”
”All I did was phone him. He's researching a new book. Modern Medical Myths: The Hazards of Self-diagnosis and Ma.s.s Delusion. Modern Medical Myths: The Hazards of Self-diagnosis and Ma.s.s Delusion. It's so perfect, don't you see? It fits in perfectly with what's going on here. You don't have it. Stan didn't have it.” It's so perfect, don't you see? It fits in perfectly with what's going on here. You don't have it. Stan didn't have it.”
”Is this why your father was trying to disband the committee?”
”I don't know anything about what my father is doing.”
”You took this doctor to the nursing home,” Ian snapped, ”and then you told him about Jim's wife leaving him and every other irrelevant piece of gossip you could think of.”
”You told him about my wife?”
Karrie backed away. ”It's not like you own the story, Lieutenant. I mean, she left town with my my mother.” Having unexpectedly wandered into the mother lode of small-town gossip, Shad and Stevenson began rolling their eyes at each other. ”I told him so he would have some background. And it's a good thing I did, because your personal history works into all this. Dr. Perkins says all this womanizing you've been doing has finally come to a head with the delusion about the syndrome, because this woman from Tacoma you were dating, Holly, got sick, and now you've transferred your guilt about the way you treated her and whatever else you were feeling about women in general to this syndrome. I should really let him explain. He's out in the other room gathering background material. When he puts you in his book, you're going to be famous.” mother.” Having unexpectedly wandered into the mother lode of small-town gossip, Shad and Stevenson began rolling their eyes at each other. ”I told him so he would have some background. And it's a good thing I did, because your personal history works into all this. Dr. Perkins says all this womanizing you've been doing has finally come to a head with the delusion about the syndrome, because this woman from Tacoma you were dating, Holly, got sick, and now you've transferred your guilt about the way you treated her and whatever else you were feeling about women in general to this syndrome. I should really let him explain. He's out in the other room gathering background material. When he puts you in his book, you're going to be famous.”
”As a jacka.s.s.” I turned to Stephanie. ”You know Perkins?”
”He's written a couple of pop culture books. He specializes in exposing fad diets and exercise crazes.”
”The chief died out in the woods,” Karrie said. ”Happens to hundreds of people every year. Jackie had a car accident because of her alcoholism. Of course course Joel has brain injuries. He fell off his roof. Stan got so worked up about this syndrome, he made himself have an accident. Dr. Perkins said he wouldn't be surprised if you had an accident, too.” Joel has brain injuries. He fell off his roof. Stan got so worked up about this syndrome, he made himself have an accident. Dr. Perkins said he wouldn't be surprised if you had an accident, too.”
”Karrie. Let me see your hands.” When she tried to rush out of the room, I grabbed her left wrist and held on. She pulled, sticking her feet out like a balky horse, and we played it like a kids' game until I reeled her in. ”Jesus Christ, Karrie. What day are you on?”
”Perkins says it doesn't fit any syndrome he's ever heard of.”
”Karrie, you need to decide what you're going to do.”
”Perkins says the only thing wrong with us is we're caught up in a form of sympathetic hysteria. Show me one person of all these people where there isn't another perfectly suitable explanation for how they got hurt.”
I nodded at Stephanie. ”Her sister. She dropped on her kitchen floor for no apparent reason. Her hands look like yours. She's been in a coma for over a month. Exactly like Joel.”
”Let Dr. Perkins see her. He'll get to the bottom of it.”
”Where is he?” I asked.
”In the watch office interviewing some of the volunteers. He says in most major ma.s.s delusion cases there are precursor episodes that weren't as severe. He's trying to uncover those now. He wanted to know if that explosion the other day had been a delusion, but I told him I thought it was real.”
”You thought thought it was real? Karrie, listen to yourself. If it had been any more real, they'd be burying us in thimbles. You're hobn.o.bbing with a quack.” it was real? Karrie, listen to yourself. If it had been any more real, they'd be burying us in thimbles. You're hobn.o.bbing with a quack.”
I stomped toward the watch office, Karrie riding my heels.
An imposing man with a shaved head met me in the watch office. ”Dr. Perkins?” I said.
”And who may I have the pleasure of-”
”Get your hairy a.s.s out of this station before I throw you through a wall.”
A moment later Karrie and the good doctor were on the sidewalk out front; he was already explaining away my actions in terms of his theory: ”. . . understandable reaction to having the delusion exposed and-”
”Wow,” Ian Hjorth said as I slammed the door behind them. Mouths agape, the volunteers Perkins had been interviewing stared at me.
”Put Karrie on disability leave. I don't want her falling off a rig on a response.” I pulled out the three-by-five card I'd been carrying. ”Here. These are the symptoms. Make sure she gets a copy. In fact, make copies and pa.s.s them around. Who knows who else might need it.”
”Yes sir, Lieutenant.”
I found the two county fire investigators, Shad and Stevenson, outside the empty chief's office. Judging by their faces, they'd been hugely entertained by our melodrama.
As if he owned the place, Shad, the short one with scrub-brush eyebrows, entered Newcastle's office and plunked down in the swivel chair with a familiarity that offended me. Shad wasn't fit to carry Newcastle's jockstrap to the laundry. Stevenson hunkered on the corner of the desk, while I leaned against the file cabinet.
Shad said, ”Buncha things. First, tell us again what made you suspicious when you got to the trailer yesterday.”
”I found Caputo's dog dying in the blackberries. After that the empty ammonium nitrate sacks and oil drums.”
”Yeah,” Stevenson said. ”How come n.o.body else found that stuff? Just you.”
”I was the only one with the time to look.”
”Trouble with what you're telling us is, we can't find any of it,” said Shad.
”You didn't find much of the trailer, either.”
”We know explosions tend to diffuse materials over a large geographical area,” Shad said. ”But we want to look into an alternate explanation for why we can't find this stuff.”
”What would that be?”
”That those items never existed.”
”Sure. Maybe the trailer didn't exist, either. Maybe Max Caputo never existed. Maybe there was no fire. Maybe that head we found in the tree fell from outer s.p.a.ce. In that case, you boys might as well go home. Aloha.”
”The head belonged to Maxwell Devlin Caputo, born in North Bend in 1970. They found one of his legs, well, the bones from one of his legs, and a cap with his scalp in it. Pretty grisly stuff. His record was not exactly clean, but he was no master criminal, either. He had some drug convictions after he got out of the army. Other than poaching arrests and somebody accusing him of stealing a tractor and some riding lawn mowers from a store here in town, that was pretty much it.”
”I can understand the sacks disintegrating,” I said, ”but those drums probably went half a mile. You'll find them.”
”Yeah,” Stevenson said.
”Yeah,” Shad said.