Quietly Into the Night by Vincent Zandri

Author:Vincent Zandri [Zandri, Vincent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books
Published: 2023-02-12T16:00:00+00:00

25

I stare at my computer screen. At Jimmy Vanes’s email. I delete it, as if that will erase the problem. Getting up, I leave my office, head back out through the barn to the backyard and to the kitchen door. Kathryn isn’t home. No time like the present to take a lie down. To maybe fall asleep for a while, and begin the day all over.

Inside the kitchen, my eyes gravitate to the bottle of Jameson. I’m not working today, so fuck it. I go to the bottle, uncap it, steal a long, sweet swallow. Capping the bottle, I feel the alcohol settle into my bloodstream and begin to do its magic. Listen I’m the first to admit, I had a bit of drinking problem a while back. Maybe even a big drinking problem. Part of getting my career and my act back in line was cutting back on the booze. That meant no more day drinking. That said, I hardly drink anything other than water and coffee before five in the evening. But after the past few days (and nights), I’m needing all the stress release I can get.

I spot the wall-mounted landline. I know I should call Dr. Draper like Kathryn said I should. But I’ve had enough bad news for now. The exhaustion is overwhelming. Still, it’s important I speak with her. Get her expert take on what’s happening with me and my head. Instead of the landline, I pull out my smartphone, speed-dial her office. A receptionist tells me, “Oh yes, Mr. Kelleher, Dr. Draper is expecting your call.”

I wait, my eyes glued to the green whiskey bottle.

Then, “Norman, is this a good time?”

“I’m not having the best of days if that’s what you mean, Doc.”

“Yes, I saw the news. I should hope you’re securing a fine lawyer.”

“Working on it. So, what’s wrong with me?”

“That’s the thing,” she says. “Other than your heart condition, which will never change, you are perfectly fine. The scans proved negative for anything cancer related. No arterial issues either.”

“What about the bloods?” I asked.

“Nothing there that would suggest you’re ingesting something that would make you get up in the middle of the night and sleepwalk your way to New York City and attack a fellow author.”

What should be good news sucks the air from my lungs. No, scratch that. It’s more like a kick to the balls. It’s like I’m entirely disappointed with Draper’s conclusion. But here’s the thing: If only I could point to something real. Something tangible. Something physical that could be to blame for my behavior these past few nights, then it would come as a relief. Rojack would have no choice but to let the case go, the DA would drop any intention of charging me, and what would be even better? Kathryn would believe my ass, instead of accusing me of being a big giant fake.

“Norman,” Draper says into the phone. “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Doc.”

“Here’s what I’d like you to do,” she says. “I want you to see a psychiatrist.

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