As Thomas and Cassi started upstairs, Cassi marveled at the change in her husband. At the hospital he was so aggressive and commanding, but the minute Harriet or his mother asked him to do something, he obeyed. At the top of the stairs, Thomas turned into his second-floor study, saying that he’d see Cassi in a few moments. He didn’t wait for her to reply. Cassi wasn’t surprised, and she continued down the hall toward their bedroom. She knew he liked his study, which was something of a mirror image of his office at the hospital except that it had a wonderful view of the picturesque garage and the salt marshes beyond. The problem was that over the last few months Thomas had begun to spend more and more time there, occasionally even sleeping on the couch. Cassi had not commented, knowing that he was troubled with insonmia, but as the number of nights he spent away from her increased, it had begun to distress her more and more. The master bedroom was at the very end of the hall, on the northeast side of the house. It had French doors giving out onto a balcony that had a commanding view of the lawn down to the sea. Next to the bedroom was a morning room facing east. On nice days the sun would stream through the windows. Between the two rooms was the master bath.
The only part of the house Cassi had redecorated was the bedroom suite. She’d salvaged and repaired the white wicker porch furniture that she had found ignominiously abandoned in the garage. She had chosen bright chintz fabrics for matching comforter, drapes, and seat cushions. The bedroom had been papered with a Victorian-style vertical print; the morning room painted a pale yellow. The combination was bright and cheerful, in sharp contrast with the dark and heavy tones of the rest of the house. Cassi had essentially taken over the morning room as her study since Thomas had shown no inclination to share it. She’d found an old country-style desk in the basement, which she’d painted white, and had bought several simple pine bookcases, which she’d painted to match. One of the bookcases had a second role; it served to conceal a small refrigerator that contained Cassi’s medicines.
After testing her urine again, Cassi went to the refrigerator and removed a package of regular insulin and one of Lente insulin. Using the same syringe, she drew up a half cc of the U 100 regular and then one-tenth cc of the U100 Lente. Knowing she had injected herself in her left thigh that morning, she chose a site on her right thigh. The whole procedure took less than five minutes.
After a quick shower, Cassi knocked on the door to Thomas’s study. When she entered she sensed that Thomas was more relaxed. He’d just finished buttoning a fresh shirt and ended up with more buttons than buttonholes when he got to the top.
“Some surgeon you must be,” teased Cassi, rapidly fixing the problem. “I met a medical resident whom you impressed last night. I’m glad he didn’t see you buttoning your shirt.” Cassi was eager for light conversation.
“Who was that?” asked Thomas.
“You helped him on a resuscitation attempt.”
“It wasn’t a very impressive effort. The man died.”
“I know,” said Cassi. “I watched the autopsy this morning.” Thomas sat down on the sectional sofa, pulling on his loafers.
“Why on earth were you watching an autopsy?” he asked.
“Because it was a post-cardiac-surgical case where the cause of death was unclear.”
Thomas stood up and began to brush his wet hair. “Did the entire department of psychiatry go up to watch this event?” asked Thomas.
“Of course not,” said Cassi. “Robert called me and …” Cassi paused. It wasn’t until she’d mentioned Robert’s name that she remembered the talk they had had in the car. Fortunately Thomas kept brushing his hair.
“He said that he thought there was another case for the SSD series. You remember. I’ve spoken to you about that before.”
“Sudden surgical death,” said Thomas as if he were reciting a lesson in school.
“And he was right,” said Cassi. “There was no obvious cause of death. The man had had a bypass operation by Dr. Ballantine …”