The House of Wood by Anthony Price Page B

Reaching in to his pocket and
pulling it out, he took one look at the caller I.D and switched it
off. He didn’t want to be disturbed. All he wanted was to be left
alone this afternoon, so that he could give in to the temptation.
It was best that people stayed out of his way.
    After the first couple of
drinks, he felt fine. He could feel his mood beginning to pick up
after the fourth. The time slipped past him quicker than his
inhibitions, his sense of right and wrong. People came and went.
Nobody bothered him, which he was glad of. He managed to keep them
away with a permanent scowl fixed on his face. After the sixth, he
promised himself he would only have one more and then get back to
the office. Maybe Connie had dug up some dirt? She better have, he
thought.
    He hated Doctor Cochrane with
an intense passion that he hadn’t realised he was capable of
feeling. The reason Nathan’s life had taken a turn straight in to a
whiskey bottle was his fault. The guy was nothing but a quack, with
crackpot theories and an Ivy League diploma. It was his fault that
Sheriff Ross was on Nathan’s back all of the time. It was his fault
Rachel was turning away from him again. Everything was his
fault.
    The gun on Nathan’s hip,
suddenly felt heavy. It’d be so easy, he thought, draining the last
dregs of the whiskey bottle. He was a good cop, it wouldn’t be hard
to hide the body. His hands shook. No, he thought, he couldn’t
think like that. At the end of the day, the Doctor hadn’t done
anything directly to him. When he filed his report, he had only
been doing his job. Just like me, Nathan realised. It hadn’t been
Doctor Cochrane that had ruined his life. It had been his own
weakness the day of the shootout that had led him on a downward
spiral. He had no one else to blame but himself.
    Nathan wandered back over to
the bar to get another bottle. The entire room spun as he staggered
forward.
    “’Nother bottle, Gloria.”
    “I think you’ve had enough,
don’t you?”
    “You can never have
enough.”
    “If you say so, honey.”
    She left to get a bottle from
the cellar. They didn’t keep Nathan’s favourite brand behind the
bar. He stood there and waited for her to return. He felt a hand on
his shoulder.
    “Hey Mr. Ross, you might want
to get out to your car,” the bus boy said, looking sheepish.
    “And why would that be?”
    “I was just passing and could
hear the radio going crazy. Whoever was on the other end sounded
really pissed with you.”
    Shit, he thought. “When Gloria
comes back up, bring the bottle out to me.”
    “Sure, no problem.”
    Nathan staggered out of the bar
as quickly as he could, his legs feeling like jelly. The cold air
did little to sober him up on the walk back to the squad car. He
got in and tried to compose himself before talking over the
radio.
    “Dispatch, this is Deputy Ross,
go ahead.”
    Nathan, where the hell have you
been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for hours.
    “Sorry Connie, I was
occupied.”
    There was silence for a few
seconds that said more than words ever could. He suddenly felt very
ashamed of himself.
    “Have you managed to find
anything.”
    Oh yeah, don’t worry, I risked
my job for you and found some stuff out.
    His heart almost leapt out of
his mouth. “What have you found?”
    I’m not sure I should tell
you.
    “Look Connie, I really am
sorry, but I need to know that information. I promise I’ll make it
up to you.”
    Hmm, well okay. I couldn’t find
any connection between Doctor Cochrane and the Langrishe family,
but I do know who owns the house.
    “Who?” Nathan almost shouted it
down the line, growing more and more anxious to know.
    The same Doctor Cochrane.
    That’s it, he thought. It
wasn’t much to go on, but it might be enough to put Rachel off.
“Thanks Connie.”
    No problem.
    He put the microphone back on
its hook, just as the bus boy bought his bottle of whiskey out to
him. Nathan took it. He wanted to go and tell Rachel what he