Thinner - Stephen King [52]
'Billy, there is no link.'
'I just -,
'I've talked to Leda Rossington. She says Cary is in the Mayo being treated for skin cancer. She says it's gone pretty far, but they're reasonably sure he's going to be okay. She further says she hasn't seen you since the Gordons' Christmas party.'
'She's lying!'
Silence from Houston and was that the sound of Heidi crying in the background? Billy's hand tightened on the telephone until the knuckles grew white.
'Did you talk to her in person, or just on the phone?'
'On the phone. Not that I understand the difference that makes.'
'If you saw her, you'd know. She looks like a woman who's had most of the life shocked right out of her.'
'Well, when you find out your husband has skin cancer, and it's reached the serious stage
'Have you talked to Cary?'
'He's in intensive care. People in intensive care are allowed telephone calls only under the most extreme circumstances.'
'I am down to a hundred and seventy,' Billy said. 'That's a net loss of eighty-three pounds, and I call that pretty extreme.'
Silence from the other end. Except for that sound that might be Heidi crying.
'Will you talk to him? Will you try?'
'If his doctors allow him to take a call, and if he'll talk to me, yes. But, Billy this hallucination of yours-'
IT IS NO FUCKING HALLUCINATION!' Don't shout, God, don't do that.
Billy closed his eyes.
'All right, all right,' Houston soothed. 'This idea. Is that a better word? All I wanted to say is that this idea is not going to help you get better. In fact, it may be the root cause of this psycho-anorexia, if that's really what you're suffering from, as Dr Yount believes. You -'
'Hopley,' Billy said. Sweat had broken out on his face. He mopped his brow with his handkerchief. He had a flicker-flash of Hopley, that face that really wasn't a face anymore but a relief map of hell. Crazy inflammations, trickling wetness, and the sound, the unspeakable sound when he raked his nails down his cheek.
There was a long silence from Houston's end.
'Talk to Duncan Hopley. He'll confirm -'
'I can't, Billy. Duncan Hopley committed suicide two days ago. He did it while you were in the Glassman Clinic. Shot himself with his service pistol.'
Halleck closed his eyes tightly and swayed on his feet. He felt as he had when he tried to smoke. He pinched his cheek savagely to keep from fainting dead away.
'Then you know,' he said with his eyes still closed. 'You know, or someone knows - someone saw him.'
'Grand Lawlor saw him,' Houston said. 'I called him just a few minutes ago.'
Grand Lawlor. For a moment Billy's confused, frightened mind didn't understand - he believed that Houston had uttered a garbled version of the phrase grand jury. Then it clicked home. Grand Lawlor was the county coroner. And now that he thought of it, yes, Grand Lawlor had testified before a grand jury or two in his time.
This thought brought on an irrational giggling fit. Billy pressed his palm over the phone's mouth piece and hoped Houston wouldn't hear the giggles; if he did, Houston would think he was crazy for sure.
And you'd really like to believe I'm crazy, wouldn't you, Mike? Because if I was crazy and I decided to start babbling about the little bottle and the little ivory spoon, why, no one would believe me anyway, would they? Goodness, no.
And that did it; the giggles passed.
'You asked him -'
'For a few details concerning the death? After the horror story your wife told me, you're damned right I asked him.' Houston's voice grew momentarily prim. 'You just ought to be damned glad that when he asked me why I wanted to know, I hung tough.'
'What did he say?'
'That Hopley's complexion was a mess, but nothing like the horror show you described to Heidi. Grand's description leads me to believe that it was a nasty outbreak of the adult acne I'd treated