CHAPTER 16
At home, Fred tended to Sofia. The neighbor that he'd hired to sit with her said that the day had been a calm one and that everything was fine – Sofia had eaten and was now sleeping. This seemed strange to Fred, but he was worried about something else. His intuition suggested Danny would arrive soon, so Fred hurried to the kitchen to water his friend's flowers. However, the leaves had already dried out and it appeared impossible to bring them back to life. The television behind Fred was broadcasting the local news, but Fred was oblivious to it. His brain was occupied with what he'd heard at the funeral home. The phone rang unexpectedly, causing Fred to flinch and almost knock over a carton of milk.
'Hi! Aren't you watching the news?' came a familiar voice.
'Uh, no. What's happening? I've turned on the TV but I haven't watched any of it yet. Listen, I've got some news. In short, I performed the autopsy today and then I was called to somewhere else,' Fred appeared nervous and didn't know where to begin his story. The other end of the phone was silent too and this bothered him a lot. 'See, it was the man from the car, the psychiatrist; his body was already rotting. His name is Michael Woodruff, the coroner told me,' having sped through the last two sentences, Fred began to pant heavily and his gaze darted in search of a mug.
'Didn't you hear anything else?' a surprising calmness came from the other end of the phone.
'No, when and how could I? There was always a cop present – a grey-haired forensics expert, who was incredibly meticulous. It was only later that the coroner told me about the corpse. You knew Woodruff, right? Did you take the drugs from him for Sofia?'
'Don't shout at me,' the voice sounded cold. 'Are you alright? Have there been any problems at work?'
'Nope, nothing's wrong! I'd find out if there was – I've got good relationships with everyone,' Fred said this with a rushed and dismissive tone, as if he was making excuses.
'That's great. I think it's now time for you to take that lawyer's advice. You didn't pay him a thousand dollars for nothing,' there were inflections of happiness in Danny's voice.
'Yes, maybe you're right. It'll be for the best,' Fred muttered, rubbing his forehead. Suddenly, he heard a noise and loud conversation from the other room where Sofia and Lisa were.
'Is everything okay at home? How are Lisa and Sofia?'
'We're okay,' Fred felt that he couldn't lie to Danny, but then again, he didn't want to talk about Sofia's relapse.
'I think I get what you mean,' Fred heard a sigh from the receiver. 'You forgot to give her "Flevarin" and "Phenazepam". I promise to go easy on you, but you've got to tell me the truth.'
Fred hesitated.
'I…I replaced them with "Actavis". Sofia had cramps, and at the time, I didn't have the money to buy the right drugs.'
'Listen!' after that came a slight pause where Fred began to sweat with fear, awaiting the rest of the response. 'I asked you to tell me everything, but now… alright, let's not argue about this. I know it's not easy for you, but Sofia now requires your constant attention. I can't lecture you on this, but I can give you some advice. Tender your resignation, see a therapist, do everything that the lawyer said. Stay at home. Just don't forget to buy as many masks as possible. Got it?'
'Yes,' Fred muttered begrudgingly. He couldn't believe what Danny had said. 'Is that all from you?'
'That's all from me at the moment. I'll be sure to call you later; wait for it and I'll tell you what to do next. Has Simon called you about the apartment yet?'
'No, no word yet.'
'Well, that's something at least. Don't panic! Everything's going to be fine. See you later!' Short beeps were heard from the phone, and Fred stood there, staring blankly at the TV for a while. At that time, a report came on about some strange events, the last of which was the death of psychiatrist Michael Woodruff, who'd been found in his own car. Soon after, a young reporter stepped aside, where in her place, an enlarged video of a gray-haired forensics expert in a mask and gloves soon filled the screen. In his hands was a small flowery handkerchief that was then examined. The expert squinted at it from under his gray eyebrows and carefully placed it into a plastic bag.
For some time, Fred stared at the screen without blinking. His blank expression soon turned into that with purpose, and he took a step forward to hear what the news was saying. The main thing for Fred, though, became clear in his mind. He had to run and he had to run fast. Before long, a feeling of panic grabbed hold of his brain and he wanted to take some Actavis to calm down. He threw that aside and poured himself a generous helping of whiskey from an old open bottle. As he drank, a burning sensation was conjured in both his throat and soon his stomach, which distracted him for a few moments. Tears began to flow from his eyes and his breathing became heavy, as if he'd just completed a marathon. As this occurred, other thoughts came to Fred. He felt that heavy daze pass and began to think straight again. Since no-one had called from hospital, it meant that the police hadn't arrived. As a result, he had to do everything that the lawyer had said and then sit around and wait. It was this long waiting that he hated most of all – the sheer length of time sparked countless assumptions due to a lack of information. Fred soon felt that as he was alone and that there was no-one for him to share his qualms with, it would inevitably lead to him jumping to brash conclusions. He ended up pouring more whiskey and drank the whole glass in one go. At this moment, he saw no other worthwhile way to pass the time without any unforeseen consequences for his body.