BLIND TRIAL by Brian Deer (good books to read for adults .txt) 📕

back to Washington, Monday. Everyone knows they’re announcing the license.”

Ben tore off his shades and hooked them on the steering wheel. His gaze peppered storefronts behind her. “So, what’s it about you with him? What’s the deal?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean.”

He actually sounded… No, that’s insane… But—yes—he actually sounded jealous. “He’s a longstanding friend actually. I mean, really, what’s going on here?”

“Good question. Right. So how long you known him?”

This was so uncool. “Three years, if you’re interested. We met three years ago last April, as it happens. At the Twenty-fourth International Conference on Retroviral Infections. In Shanghai, China.”

“Yeah, well, because of this, I’m probably losing my job. I got a written warning last week already. And now this.”

“That’s nothing to do with Hiroshi.”

“Sure. And what’s all this trial shit? And all these ‘home visits’? It’s obvious you’re feeding him stuff about Wilson’s fuckups.”

“What an insulting suggestion. He doesn’t know about any of this. I haven’t told him anything. I am a professional, you know.” She reached into the envelope and gripped the papers inside. “The protocol’s actually quite clear about this. If resources are available, and lost to follow-up information not obtained, then SPIRE says home visits may be considered. You want to see?”

“Yeah, sure. Like the last guy, Ramirez.” He leaned across the wheel, his thick fingers over the dash. “Big success that was.”

THE GLINSKI residence was among the city’s eagle nests, perched at the edge of the Corona Heights park on tumbledown slickensides above the Castro district. It stood in a row of similar structures: two floors above two-car garages. A redbrick ramp linked the house with the street, on which was parked a rusting Ram Dakota pickup.

Ben stayed in his seat while Sumiko went to the door and spoke to the man who opened it. “Mr. Glinski?”

“Hey, little lady. That’s me.”

Glinski was mid-thirties, with a worked-on build, blue denim jeans and shirt, and hair like a burnt-off cornfield. “You here selling something, coz I gotta go out?” Then he stepped past Sumiko and strode toward the Sentra. “So how are you then, sir? I’m Peter.”

Glinski thrust his mitt through the open car window and shook for about a month too long. He didn’t seem too bothered about what they wanted, but led them inside, up a dim flight of stairs, and launched into a commercial for a pair of hardware stores he owned in Oakland and Fresno. “Amazon ain’t killed us yet. Amazon can go to hell. You work out Ben? You look fit.”

In a cramped second floor living room, he invited them to sit—provoking a dance over who sat where. He steered Ben to a couch—two-seat, high-back—and moved to squeeze beside him, thigh-to-thigh. But Sumiko beat him to it, dodging a side table, and throwing herself onto the spot.

Glinski scowled and took a dining chair opposite, brushing the TV Guide onto the floor. “Now what were you saying you two was doing now? Got me a delivery to make in a half hour. Guess I could put that off.”

Ben felt the kick of a leather summer clog as Sumiko folded one knee over the other. “Oh, it’s all rather dull actually,” she said, fingering the envelope in her lap. “And we’re so grateful for your time. A consumer survey. Statistical analysis for the hospital, the General. For quality control. I should say we’re so sorry about your wife.”

“Yes, very sorry,” Ben confirmed.

She wore a green patterned blouse and pleated white skirt, an inch above the knee when she was standing. But now, sat beside him with a ballpoint in her fingers, the hem was at least three inches higher.

“And we have a system,” she said, “for checking on clients who don’t come for appointments. All very bureaucratic, I’m afraid.”

“Sure. Helen used to go there. Was on some volunteer thing they were doing down there. ‘Blind trial,’ she called it. ‘Randomazed.’”

“So that’s why we’re here,” she said. “It’s just a routine thing. Do you know why she stopped coming for her appointments?”

Glinski frowned. “Why she stopped coming? Well, she died, didn’t she?”

“Yes. Of course. And we’re so sorry.”

“Yep. Heart thing. Guess it was her time. Comes to us all. Would you two like a coffee, or something stronger?”

“But uhm, I think that was a little later,” Sumiko went on. “She’d already stopped attending some months before. Missed, I think, two appointments.”

Glinski shook his head. “Moved upstate to her sister’s. Up in cannabis country, Humboldt County. Guess it was too far to come, and all.”

“I see.” She wrote a note on the envelope. “So, did you, or she, get any letter here about the trial, reminders, asking about her not coming? Reply forms, or anything to return? Anything to sign?”

Glinski grinned at Ben like a donkey at the dentist. “Nope, nothing I remember. No, nothing came here, I’m pretty sure.”

“Possibly something from a Dr. Wilson, if that helps.”

“Wilson? Wilson?” Glinski rubbed the back of his neck. “Nope. Never heard of him.”

Ben slapped his own knees. “Okay, then. Guess that’s all we need.”

“Yes, nearly done,” Sumiko cut across him. “But just before we let you get on with your day, you said she had a ‘heart thing.’ Do you remember what that was, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Sure, I don’t mind, but I don’t know much. Was away a lot of the time.”

“Myocardial infarction? A heart attack was it?”

“Heart failure, I heard it, and some fancy name, if that’s any different. I was away for a while of it. European vacation. Out the country. Did the whole grand tour thing. London and Ibiza and Ancient Greece. What they call the Full Monty over there.”

Sumiko made another note on the envelope. “And she got good care, did she, from the hospital, do you know?”

“No complaints on that score. Five stars. Only the best for our Helen. Doctors said the thing probably ran her mother’s side.”

“A hereditary thing?”

“Genetic dispossession.”

“Okay, then.” Ben stood up. “Thanks. That’s useful.”

And Glinski led them back to the street.

At the foot of the