Ricky sat back hard. “But I saw… involving a blue Volvo? The victim’s name was Doctor William Lewis. He lives on River Road…”
“Not today. In fact we haven’t had an accident investigation around here in weeks, which is pretty unusual for the summertime. And I’ve been on dispatch duty since six a.m., so any calls for police or an ambulance would come through me. Are you sure about what you saw?”
Ricky took a deep breath. “I must have been mistaken. Thank you, trooper.”
“No problem,” the man said, disconnecting the line.
Ricky’s head whirled dizzily. “But I saw…,” he started.
Merlin shook his head. “What did you see? Really? Think, Doctor Starks. Think carefully.”
“I saw a trooper…”
“Did you see his patrol car?”
“No. He was standing, waving traffic around and he said…”
“‘He said… ‘ what a great phrase. So, ‘he said… ‘ something and you took it for the truth. You saw a man dressed a little bit like a state trooper, and so you assumed it was one. Did you see him direct any other vehicles, in the time you were at that intersection?”
Ricky was forced to shake his head. “No.”
“So, really, this could have been anybody wearing a campaign hat. How closely did you inspect his uniform?”
Ricky pictured the young man, and what he remembered were the eyes peering out beneath the Smokey the Bear hat. He tried to recall other details, but was unable. “He appeared to be a state trooper,” Ricky said.
“Appearances mean little. In your business, or in mine, doctor,” Merlin said. “Now, how sure were you there was an accident? Did you see an ambulance? A fire truck? Other police or rescue squad members? Did you hear sirens? Maybe the telltale chop-chop-chop of a life flight helicopter’s rotors?”
“No.”
“So, you merely took one man’s word that there was an accident that possibly involved someone you had just been in close proximity to the day before, but you didn’t see a need to check further? You merely fled in order to catch a train, because you believed that you needed to get back to the city, right? But what was the real urgency?”
Ricky did not reply.
“And, for all you now know, in reality there was no accident down the road at all.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps not. I can’t be sure.”
“No, you can’t be sure,” Merlin said. “But we can be certain of one thing: that you felt that whatever you had to do was more important than ascertaining whether someone needed help. You might keep that observation in mind, doctor.”
Ricky tried to swivel in the seat to be able to look Merlin in the eye. This was difficult. Merlin continued to smile, the irritating appearance of someone in utter control. “Perhaps you should try to telephone the person you went to visit?” He waved his hand at the cell phone. “Make certain they are okay?”
Ricky quickly punched in Dr. Lewis’s telephone number. The phone rang repeatedly, but there was no answer.
Surprise clouded his face, which Merlin registered. Before Ricky could say anything, the lawyer was speaking again.
“What makes you so sure that that house truly was Doctor Lewis’s place of residence?” Merlin asked with a slightly stiff formality. “What did you see that connected the good doctor directly to that place? Were there family pictures on the walls? Did you see any signs of other folks? What papers, knickknacks, what we would call the furniture of life-what was there that persuaded you that you were actually in the good doctor’s house? Other than his presence, of course.”
Ricky concentrated, but could see nothing in his memory. The study where they’d sat most of the night was a typical study. Books on the walls. Chairs. Lamps. Carpets. Some papers on the desk surface, but none that he’d inspected. But nothing that was unique and stood out in his recollection. The kitchen was simply a kitchen. The hallways connected the rooms. The guest room where he’d stayed the night was noticeably sterile.
Again, he remained silent, but he knew that his silence was as good a response as the attorney needed.
Merlin took a deep breath, his eyebrows lifted in anticipation of an answer, then lowering, relaxed, becoming part of the knowing smile he wore. Ricky had a brief memory of being in college and staring across a poker table at another student and knowing that whatever cards he held, they weren’t adequate to beat his opponent.
“Let me summarize briefly, doctor,” Merlin said. “I find that it is always wise to periodically take a moment to assess, tote up the score, and then proceed. This might be one of those moments. The only thing that you can be sure of is that you spent some hours in the presence of a physician that you knew from years ago. You don’t know now whether that was indeed his home, or not, or perhaps whether he has been in an accident, or not. You don’t know for certain that your onetime analyst is alive, or not, do you?”
Ricky started to reply, then stopped.
Merlin continued, lowering his voice just slightly, so that it had a conspiratorial quality to it, “Where was the first lie? Where was the critical lie? What did you see? All these questions…”
He suddenly held up his hand. Then he shook his head, as one might when trying to correct a wayward child. “Ricky, Ricky, Ricky, let me ask you this: Was there a car accident this morning?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I just spoke to the state police. That guy said…”
“How do you know it was the state police you spoke with?”
Ricky hesitated. Merlin grinned. “I dialed the number and handed you the phone. You pressed send, right? Now, I could have dialed just about any number, where just about anyone was waiting for the phone call. Maybe that’s the lie, Ricky. Maybe your friend Doctor Lewis is on a slab in the Dutchess County Morgue awaiting some relative to come identify him right now.”
“But…”
“You’re missing the point, Ricky.”
“All right,” Ricky said, snapping sharply, “what is the point?”
The attorney’s eyes narrowed just slightly, as if irritated by Ricky’s brisk reply. He indicated the waterproof gym bag at his feet. “Maybe he wasn’t in an accident at all, doctor, but instead, in that bag right now I’ve got his severed head. Is that possible, Ricky?”
Ricky recoiled sharply in surprise.
“Is it possible, Ricky?” the lawyer probed, his voice now hissing.
Ricky’s eyes fell to the bag. It was a simple duffel shape, without any external characteristics that might indicate what it contained. It was big enough to carry a person’s head, and waterproof, so that it would be without stains or leakage. But as Ricky assessed these elements, he felt his throat go dry, and he was not sure what terrified him more, the idea that there was a head of a man he knew at his feet, or the idea that he didn’t know.