pulled off the adhesive bandage and Ben jumped. ‘Hell of a lump,’ Cody said conversationally, and then covered the wound with a slightly smaller dressing.
He shone a light into Ben’s eyes, then tapped his left knee with a rubber hammer. With sudden morbidity, Ben wondered if it was the same one he had used on Mike Ryerson.
‘All that seems to be satisfactory,’ he said, putting his things away. ‘What’s your mother’s maiden name?’
‘Ashford,’ Ben said. They had asked him similar questions when he had first recovered consciousness.
‘First-grade teacher?’
‘Mrs Perkins. She rinsed her hair.’
‘Father’s middle name?’
‘Merton.’
‘Any dizziness or nausea’?’
‘No.’
‘Experience of strange odors, colors, or-’
‘No, no, and no. I feel fine.’
‘I’ll decide that,’ Cody said primly. ‘Any instance of double vision?’
‘Not since the last time I bought a gallon of Thunderbird.’
‘All right,’ Cody said. ‘I pronounce you cured through the wonders of modem science and by virtue of a hard head. Now, what was on your mind? Tibbits and the little McDougall boy, I suppose. I can only tell you what I told Parkins Gillespie. Number one, I’m glad they’ve kept it out of the papers; one scandal per century is enough in a small town. Number two, I’m damned if I know who’d want to do such a twisted thing. It can’t have been a local person. We’ve got our share of the weirdies, but-’
He broke off, seeing the puzzled expressions on their faces. ‘You don’t know? Haven’t heard?’
‘Heard what?’ Ben demanded.
‘It’s rather like something by Boris Karloff out of Mary Shelley. Someone snatched the bodies from the Cumberland County Morgue in Portland last night.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Susan said. Her lips made the words stiffly.
‘What ‘the matter?’ Cody asked, suddenly concerned.
‘Do you know something about this?’
‘I’m starting to really think we do,’ Ben said.
4
It was ten past n6on when they had finished telling everything. The nurse had brought Ben a lunch tray, and it stood untouched by his bed.
The last syllable died away, and the only sound was the rattle of glasses and cutlery coming through the half- open door as hungrier patients on the ward ate.
‘Vampires,’ Jimmy Cody said. Then: ‘Matt Burke, of all people. That makes it awfully hard to laugh off.’ Ben and Susan kept silent.
‘And you want me to exhume the Glick kid,’ he ruminated. ‘Jesus jumped-up Christ in a sidecar.’
Cody took a bottle out of his bag and tossed it to Ben, who caught it. ‘Aspirin,’ he said. ‘Ever use it?’
‘A lot.’
‘My dad used to call it the good doctor’s best nurse. Do you know how it works?’
‘No,’ Ben said. He turned the bottle of aspirin idly in his hands, looking at it. He did not know. Cody well enough to know what he usually showed or kept hidden, but he was sure that few of his patients saw him like this-the boyish, Norman Rockwell face overcast with thought and introspection. He didn’t want to break Cody’s mood.
‘Neither do I. Neither does anybody else. But it’s good for headache and arthritis and the rheumatism. We don’t know what any of those are, either. Why should your head ache? There are no nerves in your brain. We know that aspirin is very close in chemical composition to LSD, but why should one cure the ache in the head and the other cause the head to fill up with flowers? Part of the reason we don’t understand is because we don’t really know what the brain is. The best-educated doctor in the world is standing on a low island in the middle of a sea of ignorance.
We rattle our medicine sticks and kill our chickens and read messages in blood. All of that works a surprising amount of time. White magic.
‘You’ll do it?’ Susan said, frankly amazed.
‘What can it hurt? If he’s dead, he’s dead. If he’s not, then I’ll have something to stand the AMA convention on its ear next time. I’m going to tell the county ME that I want to look for signs of infectious encephalitis. It’s the only sane explanation I can think of.’
‘Could that actually be it?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Damned unlikely.’
