Read Online Chase: Roman by Dean Koontz - Free Book Online Page B

When he opened the door and came out a few minutes later, looking refreshed, he nodded at Chase. ‘All yours!’ He seemed remarkably energetic for having spent the night in the easy chair.
        Chase took his time bathing and shaving, for the longer he remained in the bathroom, the less he would have to talk to the cop. When he was finally finished, the clock by his bed read 9:45. Judge had not yet called.
        ‘What have you got for breakfast?’ Tuppinger asked.
        Chase said, There isn't anything here.’
        ‘Oh, you've got to have something. Doesn't have to be breakfast food; I'm not particular in the morning.’
        Chase opened the refrigerator and took out the bag of Winesap apples. He said, ‘Only these.’
        Tuppinger stared at the apples, at the empty refrigerator. His eyes flicked to the whisky bottle on the cupboard. He did not say anything, for he did not need to say anything. Indeed, if he had remarked according to his thoughts, Chase might have struck him.
        ‘They'll do fine,’ Tuppinger said enthusiastically. He took the clear plastic bag from Chase and chose an apple. ‘Want one?’
        ‘No.’
        ‘You ought to eat breakfast,’ Tuppinger said. ‘Even something small. Gets the stomach working, sharpens you up for the day ahead.’
        ‘No thanks,’ Chase said.
        ‘Tuppinger carefully peeled two apples, sectioned them and ate them slowly, chewing well.
        By 10:30 Chase was beginning to worry. Suppose Judge did not call today? The idea of having Tuppinger here for the afternoon and the evening, of waking up to the sound of Tuppinger in the bathroom shaving, was all but intolerable.
        ‘Do you have a relief man?’ Chase asked.
        ‘Unless it gets too protracted,’ Tuppinger said, ‘I'll stick with it myself.’
        ‘How long might that be?’
        ‘Oh,’ Tuppinger said, ‘if we don't have it wrapped up in forty-eight hours, I'll call in my relief.’
        Though another forty-eight hours with Tuppinger was in no way an attractive prospect, it was probably no worse, and perhaps better, than it would have been with another cop. Though Tuppinger was a bit too observant for comfort, he did not talk very much. Let him look, then. And let him think whatever he wanted to think about Chase. So long as he could keep his mouth shut, they wouldn't have any major problems.
        At noon Tuppinger had two more apples and cajoled Chase into eating most of one. It was decided that Chase would go out for some fried chicken and slaw to bring back for supper.
        At 12:30 Chase had his first drink.
        Tuppinger watched, but he did not say anything.
        Chase didn't offer him a drink this time.
        At three in the afternoon the telephone rang. Although this was what they had been waiting for since the night before, Chase did not want to answer it. Because Tuppinger was there, urging him to pick it up while he adjusted his own earphones, he finally lifted the receiver.
        ‘Hello?’ His voice sounded cracked, strained.
        ‘Mr Chase?’
        ‘Yes,’ he said, immediately recognizing the voice. It was not Judge.
        ‘This is Miss Pringle, calling for Dr Cauvel, to remind you of your appointment tomorrow at three. You have a fifty-minute session scheduled, as usual.’
        ‘Thank you,’ he said. This double-check was a strict routine with Miss Pringle, though he had forgotten about it.
        ‘Tomorrow at three,’ she repeated, then hung up.
        
        At four o'clock Tuppinger complained of hunger and of a reluctance to consume a fifth Winesap apple in order to stave it off. Chase did not object to an early supper, accepted Tuppinger's money, which, the cop said, would be paid him from the petty-cash account at headquarters, and went out to buy the chicken, French fries and slaw. He purchased a large Coca-Cola for Tuppinger but nothing for himself. He would drink his