The Bully of Order by Brian Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

chair. I couldn’t bring myself to say what I’d come to say. “Take your time, Mrs. Ellstrom. I have nothing on the schedule that can’t be put off until tomorrow.” He smiled a close-lipped smile and then took one quick drink from his cup and then another twice as long. I watched his throat work beneath the fatty layers of his prickly neck. The color came into his face and he took a deep breath. He struck me as being two men: a narrow and average man and a fat man that had engulfed the smaller one. Knuckled was a word that I thought fit Jacob well, and ensconced was a word that fit Dr. Haslett. Just men, as they are.
    The doctor was about to say something else, and I quickly gathered my courage and spoke right over the top of him: “It seems my husband has disappeared.”
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    â€œOn Monday. He left and never returned.”
    â€œI’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably been detained somehow, is all. I wouldn’t worry.” By the look on his face, I could tell he was pleased at my misfortune but didn’t want to show it.
    â€œI had Mr. Tartan look for him in the places I wouldn’t go. Where men usually go when they don’t want to come home.”
    â€œI see. Would you like me to try and find him? I could ask around.”
    â€œPeople trust you, like they once trusted my husband. People are mostly honest with doctors, don’t you think?”
    â€œHonestly, I don’t think anyone’s particularly honest with anyone.”
    â€œThat’s a dark view.”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    I let Duncan down, and he crawled across the room and busied himself pulling on the drapes.
    â€œDuncan.”
    â€œHe’s fine. Leave him.”
    â€œThe real trouble is”—my voice was barely above a whisper now, and the doctor leaned in to hear—“I spoke with Mr. Hayes, and it seems Jacob, Dr. Ellstrom, is deeply in debt—I don’t know what we’ll do.” I did my best to fight back the tears, but they were there, hot on my cheeks, smeared onto the back of my hand. I hadn’t gone there to cry. Duncan was watching me with a look of terror on his face, so I smiled through my tears and he half-smiled back.
    Dr. Haslett stood up and came over to me. “He’ll turn up. You stay here. Make yourself comfortable. I mean it, pretend that this is your home, sleep in the beds, eat all the food, break the dishes—I don’t care one bit. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you.”
    â€œThank you, Dr. Haslett. I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
    â€œYou’ll be fine. Wait here.” He spoke to Duncan. “I believe Miss Falvey, my housekeeper, left some cookies in the cupboard. Better go and see if you’re tall enough to reach them.”
    I thanked him again.
    â€œYou’ll be fine. I won’t be gone more than an hour.”
    He got his coat and left. Duncan and I stayed in the living room for a few minutes after the door shut, and then we went into the kitchen and I heated him some milk and fed him cookies like you’d feed carrots to an old and well-loved horse.

Dr. Milo Haslett
    H is coat was still damp. Something about putting on warm and wet clothing bothered him immensely more than cold and wet. It wasn’t simply uncomfortable and impractical; it was disgusting. He stood in the entryway for a moment, wondering where to start. He thought: I’m weary of this whole business. No wonder that swindler Ellstrom had disappeared. He understood. Hippocraticly speaking, Dr. Haslett would just as soon first do nothing than do no harm. Not that he believed that; he believed he was doing good, and without that belief he would be lost, nothing, a vessel filled with smoke. A lustful but mostly empty vessel. Women and God are the two rocks on which man must anchor or be wrecked. And Mrs. Ellstrom came for my help. This pleased him. Not so old and bloated