would have moved in a different direction."
"Some of it to him?" the doctor asked.
"Yes. But I don't think that's the primary motive."
"So what is?"
"Anxiety. Guilt. A sense of loss. He's sorry they didn't get along, and he's sorry his father didn't live to see him make it as a painter."
Prescott Mullen looked thoughtful. "I suppose in some sense it would be an easier murder to justify than if the man was healthy. How many months was he robbed of? If I had to guess, I'd say six at the outside. And the last six weeks would probably not have been what you'd call living."
"What was his attitude toward his illness?"
"He seemed to think of it as a challenge. To him the cancer was an entity, an enemy, a thing that had invaded him and plotted against his life. I was no fan of Ellis Esterland. He was a highly competitive organism. I used to wonder how Anne could put up with him, why she didn't just walk out."
"When did you last see Esterland?"
"Mid-June. About five weeks before he was killed. He looked better than I expected him to look. But he was in pain. He wouldn't admit it. I know he was in great pain."
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"How could you tell?"
"Observation. You see a lot of pain, you know what it looks like: Sudden sweats. Quick little intakes of breath. A sudden pallor. I think he could probably handle more pain than most, just out of arrogance and pride. He was a stubborn old man. I knew there would be more coming, and it might get to the point where he couldn't handle it. I tried to get him to admit the pain, and I tried to tell him it would get worse. He told me not to worry about it. He said he was fine. I remember giving him a little lecture about the psychology of pain."
"Would he have arranged to get himself killed rather than admit he was hurting?"
He shook his head slowly. "No, I can't see Esterland in that role. I gave him a lecture about the effects of the hallucinogens on pain. We know now that cannabis can quell the nausea some people feel during chemotherapy and radiology. Cannabis and hashish and LSD have an interesting effect on the subjective experiencing of pain. Intense and continuing pain seems to the patient to be a part of him, something swelling and burning inside of him, taking him over. The hallucinogens have the odd effect of making the pain seem aside and apart from the patient. The pain may be just as intense, but it is, subjectively, off to one side. Pain creates a terrible and consuming anxiety, on some very deep level of the brain. Pain is nature's warning that something is terribly wrong. If anxiety is quelled by any hallucinogen, then pain, though still as intense, becomes less frightening and consuming. That may be the answer. I thought Ellis was fighting the pain relievers because they would dull his wits, dull his perceptions of the world. He wanted to stay just a little brighter than anybody else he knew. I urged him to find a private source for hallucinogens and experiment with them. I explained that it would leave his mind unimpaired but would enable him to handle pain better. I told him that it was the best way for him to get any enjoyment out of the time he had left."
"Did you tell him how long he had left?"
"I told him my guess. That was our relationship from the start. Total candor."
"Maybe the pain got worse and he took your advice and went up there to make a buy. That's why he didn't take Anne or tell her why he was going."
"And somebody cheated him and killed him? Possible. I can tell you that if he did buy something, he would take it secretly, and if it helped, he would never have told Anne or me. It would have been his private solution. It would leave his macho image unimpaired."
"Lovely guy."
"Prince of a fellow," Mullen said, grinning. "McGee, I like your reconstruction. It seems to fit what I read about the circumstances of his death. The news accounts implied he was keeping some kind of appointment at a highway rest stop."
"Did you recommend any particular
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