PRINCETON DETECTIVE ARRESTED FOR MURDER; MORE CHARGES POSSIBLE
Long-Lost Hospital Resident Resurfaces after Ten Years
Princeton, New Jersey: Detective Michael Tritter was arrested this morning for one charge of murder, one charge of official misconduct, and one charge of assault, with more expected. Police Chief Allen Garzelli at a news conference this afternoon stated that Tritter's entire career in the police force is now being examined very closely. "We have a recorded confession not only for the one murder ten years ago but implying others," he said. "I assure you, the department takes this very seriously, and we will leave no stone unturned to discover the true extent of Tritter's actions over the years. We will find the answers, and we will make them public as soon as we can." Detective Tritter had been on the police force for 17 years.
Dr. Gregory House, a former resident at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, had been sought for questioning relating to the murder of his landlord in his apartment ten years ago, but Dr. House vanished and was never arrested. It is now revealed that this crime apparently was committed by Tritter with a deliberate attempt to frame Dr. House. According to sources, Dr. House turned up again this morning, lured Tritter to him, and recorded a full confession to that murder in front of hidden witnesses. Tritter planned to kill Dr. House this morning before the witnesses were revealed. Police Chief Garzelli confirms that Dr. House is no longer considered a suspect on any charges.
Dr. House had no statement for the press, and it is unknown where he has been for the last ten years or indeed why he disappeared from sight given his innocence. The administrator of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital did provide a press release. "Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital has always held to our core national belief that everyone is innocent until proven guilty. Dr. House had never even been arrested, much less convicted, of this crime, and we have never considered him a criminal. We do not know where he has been for ten years, but we would welcome him back as a resident to finish his education, as he was a most-promising doctor ten years ago, to the point that many current staff still specifically remember him. Whatever his next move is, we wish him well."
(HC)
Cuddy knocked on the door. An ambiguous grumble came from within, and she took it as permission to enter. House was standing in the living room of the small apartment, looking around. The place came furnished adequately even if without extras. The main extra House had stood in the corner, the small piano. Cuddy, Wilson, and Brenda all together with his precise supervision had moved it a few nights ago at 1:00 a.m. from the old abandoned wing of the hospital and brought it here in a rented truck, along with several books.
House still looked almost lost among the comfortable furniture after ten years without a cushioned chair. Cuddy rattled the take-out bags she held. "Maestro? I brought lunch."
He turned to face her, leaning on his cane. "What kind of lunch?" Rediscovering food was as novel at the moment as rediscovering furniture.
"Chinese. Do you like Chinese?"
"I did in a former life." He sat down at the table, and she unpacked the sacks and distributed the cardboard containers.
"It's not a former life. It's your life again," she reminded him.
He nodded, still getting used to the idea. "Heard from the Medical Board." He paused there, enjoying prolonging the suspense.
She took time to swallow her current bite but hurried up on it. "And?"
Perversely, he took time for another bite himself, then finally yielded. "My residency wasn't finished, of course. But the previous education was. They say I'd have to start first-year resident again under full supervision, to make sure that I'm still up on things, but they're willing to reinstate me."
She smiled. "And PPTH would be glad to have you back."
He shrugged. "Good a choice as any." His tone was nonchalant, but she could see the taut anticipation in him. He was just afraid to show how much he was looking forward to actually working again. "I've got to do something for the finances, after all." The police department had frozen House's bank account and credit cards ten years ago after his flight, but that hold had been lifted promptly, and he had spent the last week since Tritter's arrest finding an apartment and slowly edging back into the world. He had also, with Cuddy's urging, seen a doctor. She didn't know what the doctor had said, and he hadn't volunteered any information. His walls on the subject of his leg were as high as ever, but he did seem to be walking a little bit easier the last few days, though the bad limp would always be there. That amount of missing muscle could never be treated away.
Cuddy let her imagination run now, thinking of having him openly around the hospital with his acerbic perception. "It will be fun, Maestro, and you'll be doing a favor for the rest of us. Some of those head doctors could use a little bit more challenge in their day." She couldn't believe she was saying this. If her business-as-usual-above-all father heard that, he wouldn't believe it either. But yes, now that she let herself admit it, a few of those doctors were hopelessly stuffy and dull.
House laughed. "Anything but boredom. You know, I have a theory that patients actually improve faster in a non-boring hospital than in a boring one."
She laughed herself. "You ought to do a study on that. It sounds like a fun conference topic."
"Or we could make it individual doctors. We'd have to come up with a control group of the stuffiest, most pedantic doctors out there. I'm sure Wilson could help us on that list and maybe even Brenda."
She took another bite. "I'm sure both of them would have some candidates to add."
At that moment, there came a knock at the door, an imperative knock, as if annoyed to find a door in the way. House froze, and Cuddy looked from him to the door, puzzled. He didn't get up to answer. "What is it?" she asked.
"Greg!" The voice from outside answered her question. She had only spoken to John House once, and that had been on the phone, but she recognized his voice immediately.
"Maybe he'll go away," she said softly.
House shook his head. He studied her for a moment, and then, with a sudden and visible surge of courage, he came to his feet and limped over to the door. It hadn't been locked, and it opened when he was still three feet away as John grew tired of waiting.
John House marched in. Tall, military, authoritative, he claimed the room. "So you finally came back. Still didn't have the courage to call me, though. I had to read about it in the papers and come up here to track you down. You always were a coward."
House looked from his father to Cuddy, and John followed his gaze and for the first time realized they weren't alone. He pulled himself up. "I didn't realize you had company."
"Now you do," House replied. "Going to put the mask back on now? You always did want things to be secrets between us."
John walked forward, passing right by his son as if he didn't exist. "I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am," he said smoothly, "but my son and I have a lot to catch up on after ten years. Would you please excuse us?"
Cuddy looked past him to House, her eyes asking the question. House was stiffly frozen, giving neither a yes nor a no. She gently prompted him. "I'll leave if he asks me to. This is his apartment."
House still stood there, and she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Do you want me here?" she asked. He already knew that she had talked to John, had come to conclusions about him, and she tried to remind him of that in her eyes. Nothing that was said here was likely to surprise her, and she wanted to give him moral support. Still, she left it as his choice.
After an eternal moment, he gave a short nod.
"Fine," she said. "I'm staying." She turned to John House. "As for your son being a coward, he's anything but. He faced down a murderer just a week ago and got a confession out of him."
John was thrown off balance by this addition to the conversation. His rehearsed script hadn't included a third party. "I've known him longer than you have," he said. "What is your name, anyway?"
"Dr. Lisa Cuddy." She stated it proudly, enjoying seeing the puzzle pieces click together in his mind. "Yes, I talked to you on the phone several weeks ago, when I was trying to find out the truth, but you told me at that point that you didn't have a son."
A crack appeared in House's frozen shell as he gave a weak smile. "That's actually the truth. I'm not his son."
John spun around with a snarl and took a few steps back toward House, and House stood his ground. "Obviously, John here has problems hitting a home run. The issue clearly wasn't Mom; she got pregnant as soon as a pinch hitter stepped in."
John's fists clenched, and Cuddy left the table and came closer, reminding him of her presence. John looked at her and forcibly relaxed; he wouldn't bring himself to violence in front of witnesses. The front, the façade, was too ingrained.
"Clearly, this is a bad time for us to catch up, Greg. I'll come back later when you're free."
"No."
John paused after one step toward the door. "No?" It wasn't a word he was used to hearing from his son.
"No." House looked at Cuddy. "This is my life. It's not yours, not any longer. I have the right to live it for myself. And I don't choose to have you in it. Goodbye."
John stared at him. "I'm your -"
House shook his head. "You aren't my father. Not biologically, and according to Cuddy here, not even by your own perception. You haven't got anything over me anymore. Get lost."
John was scrambling; this definitely hadn't been in his rehearsed script. He played his last card. "Think of your mother, Greg. What would she say if she heard you say that?"
House flinched, and Cuddy stepped in. "Actually, I've been thinking about your mother myself, House. You know, I think probably John was the one who killed her." John puffed up like an offended cat, and she hurried on. "Can you imagine years of marriage to him? I don't think there's any question where the stress in her life came from. And stress sometimes can contribute to a heart attack, you know. Years of it, decades of it, stifled and controlled. The main stress in her life was you." She threw the last line at John as if a literal blow. He flinched. His fists clenched again, his body trembling in hard-held rage, but even now, he couldn't bring himself to violence in front of two people instead of just his son. He gathered the shreds of his dignity around him, turned, and stalked out the door, slamming it behind him.
Cuddy quickly turned to House, gathering him to her in a hug. Eventually, she felt the moment that the fine tremors running through him stopped and the walls started going up again, and she released him and stepped back, respecting it. "Maestro," she said, using the name of ability and expertise, "you are anything but a coward."
"Lock the door," he told her.
She obeyed, turning the bolt. Behind her, he wandered over to the piano, not playing it, just touching it. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked again.
After a moment, he nodded, his eyes grateful to her for not prolonging that awful scene. "For a little while. Come back tonight, though. Wilson is coming over at 7:00 to help arrange things. You could come at 6:00 if you like."
"I will." She smiled at him.
"And tomorrow, I'll go talk to the hospital."
She nodded. "They'll be glad to have you back. Goodbye, Maestro."
"For now," he said.
"Yes. For now." She left and heard him lock the door behind her. Then she stepped out into the world of her future, thinking of what might be eventually. Or might not be. She didn't know yet, and good things took time to grow. But she felt infinitely richer than she had when she first came to Princeton. She was slowly, in ways far beyond medicine, getting her education, and she knew that it was in every way going to continue.
As she started down the hall, she heard the music start behind her through the door, and she savored the melody as long as possible as she kept walking.