The Blue Journal Page 25
“You can, Phyllis. I actually think you must.”
She found the strength to look up. Her eyes were filled with tears, but this time it was not from the flood of outrage that came so easily to her in the sanctuary of this office. Now she felt despair as she confronted the absolute truth of her hopelessness. “He’s so angry,” she said slowly. “He’s always so angry. He thinks I don’t know how bad things are for him at work, but I do.” She looked at Randi, as if ready to impart some deep secret. “I got a call the other day from the administrator of his pension plan, or something like that. They were confirming an early withdrawal he made. Can you imagine? He won’t tell me he’s borrowing against our future just to pay our bills, and I can’t even discuss it with him. I have to pretend I don’t know.”
“Did you tell him about the call?”
“Of course not. I’m afraid. Don’t you see?”
“You’re afraid of your husband?”
She shook her head ever so deliberately. “Afraid of Fred? No, Doctor Conway, I’m afraid for him, for what he might do. He’s all I have. I don’t want to be alone.” Her sobs came from a wellspring so deep inside her she feared that once released they might never end. Her shoulders rose and fell and she gasped for breath as her chest heaved with the weight of her awful grief. “I’m so afraid.”
Randi hated herself for not going to her, for not holding this sad woman in her arms and telling her it would be all right. This is not a profession for human beings, she thought. But she knew she must stay where she was. She must sit and watch this wretched woman suffer the ordeal that she ultimately faced alone.
“I’m sorry,” Phyllis muttered.
“For what?”
She began wiping at her face with a handful of tissues. “I’m making a spectacle of myself.”
“No Phyllis, you’re not. You’re showing the courage to confront your fears. That’s the beginning of solving any problem. First you have to face up to it.”
Phyllis managed one of the saddest smiles Randi had ever seen. “Words, Doctor. Just words.” She took a deep breath and let out a long, uneven sigh.
“What would you like instead?”
“Instead of what? I don’t understand.”
“Words. You say we’re dealing in words. The alternative would be actions, correct?”
Phyllis nodded.
“All right. What would you like to do? Or what would you like the two of us to do? Or what would you have Fred do?”
Phyllis spoke slowly now. “I want to feel loved. I want to feel that everything I’ve given, everything I’ve done for all these years actually means something. That it has value. I don’t want anyone giving me anything out of obligation. I’ve been married more than thirty years. I don’t want anyone doing anything for me like it’s some kind of a favor, okay? I’ve earned something here. I want what I’ve earned.”
“What do you believe you’ve earned, Phyllis?”
“Love,” she said. “First I want to feel loved. Then I want to enjoy myself. I want to laugh and have fun. And I want someone who wants to be my partner, to share that with me.” She was staring at Randi now, her frightened eyes those of a woman who understood more than she wanted to know. “Sometimes he scares me. And sometimes he infuriates me. But even with that, even with all the things I want, I know what I don’t want.”
Randi waited.
“I don’t want to be alone,” Phyllis said.
But this time she did not cry, and Randi knew there was another conversation she needed to have with Fred Wentworth.
CHAPTER 40
Once Phyllis was gone, Randi returned to her files. She was kneeling over a pile of papers, putting them in order, when she heard the knock at her door.
She opened up to find Mitchell Avery.
He trudged past her into the room, not taking notice of the mess he was obliged to step around as he made his way to the couch and dropped himself down.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, not meaning for the question to sound as harsh as it did.
“I think the better question is, ‘What are you doing here?’ You’re supposed to be saving marriages, right? How’re you making out on that score?”
Randi stood, closed the door, and took her seat opposite him, in the black, leather swivel chair. “What are you talking about?”
Avery explained what he discovered when he returned home yesterday morning, including Joan’s note. “I called her sister in Vermont. She says Joan’s okay, but she won’t tell me where she is. She said Joan won’t speak to me, but she and the kids are fine and I shouldn’t worry.” He gave Randi a look that said it might be the craziest notion he had ever heard. “Shouldn’t worry? All I’ve done is worry. And by the way, I’ve been trying to reach you since I got back.”
“I had to go out of town yesterday. I didn’t get your voice mail.”
“I didn’t leave one. Figured I would catch up with you in person.” He leaned forward. “So where the hell are my wife and kids?”
“I don’t know,” Randi admitted.
“Well what the hell do you know?”
Randi took a deep breath. “I saw Joan Monday. She told us she was leaving group, but she wasn’t prepared to discuss her reasons. I called your house afterward, hoping she might be willing to see me privately, but there was no answer.” Randi’s calm tone only intensified Avery’s anxiety.
“That’s it? You didn’t do anything else?”
“There was no voice mail so I couldn’t leave a message,” she said. “I thought I’d hear from her.”
“Great,” Avery said abruptly. “What do we do next?”
“Would you like me to try and reach her?”
“Now there’s an idea,” he snapped. Then he gave her the name of Joan’s sister and her telephone number. “I was going to drive up to Vermont, but I don’t know that she’s there. What the hell, I should go anyway. Maybe I can beat the information out of her.”
“Out of who, her sister?”
“Of course, damnit. Who do you think?”
“First, you need to calm down Mitchell. Then you and Joan should come and see me.”
“Are you listening? I can’t even find her, how am I going to get her to come and see you?”
“We’ll find her, then we should all talk.”
“What the hell for? You’re a marriage counselor. I don’t have a marriage anymore. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I should go and see someone in the missing-persons bureau.”
“What happened in the past few days, Mitchell?” she asked, not divulging what Joan had told her about Miami.
“I was away,” he said, then became silent as Randi waited. “I was in Florida,” he admitted, his voice somber, even hoarse. “Remember that girl I told you about? In Miami? Joan must’ve found out I was there.”
“Mitchell,” she began, then stopped. “Are you sure this only has to do with Florida?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s a question, Mitchell.”
He wasn’t paying any attention to her now, speaking to himself as he muttered, “I don’t know how the hell she could have known.”
“Joan’s note, did it say anything else?”
“Huh?”
“You said she left a note. What did it say?”
“Not much. Some bullshit about the cost of selfishness.”
“Anything about Elizabeth Knoebel?”
“Elizabeth Knoebel?”
“Could this have anything to do with her?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I think you know,” Randi said.
Avery shook his head. “What the hell are you running here, Doc?” He stood up and began to pace back and forth behind the couch, for the first time noticing the jumble of papers and files on the floor. “Jesus, what a mess.”
“I’m reorganizing.”
“You may need some help,” he said.
“Talk to me, Mitchell.”
“About Elizabeth?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head.
“You told me you knew her. Tell me what happened.”
He stopped and stared down at her. “I met her in a bar one night.” He resumed his pacing. “Had no idea who she was or what she was up to, not in the beginning. She came at me like I was Don Juan, but I’ve been around too long for that sort of applesauce. I figure if something looks too good to be true it usually is. I actually thought she might be a pro, so I blew her off. She was none too pleased with the brush but, hey, I’m no George Clooney, and when a good-looking woman starts draping herself all over me before we’ve said a how-do-you-do, I know there’s danger ahead, Will Robinson.” He forced a bitter chuckle. “That’s when she tells me that she’s in Joan’s therapy group. Heard all about me and how terrific I sounded, how she also knows my marriage is a mess, and wouldn’t we be something together.” He stopped his pacing and looked down at Randi again. “Really, Doc, what the hell are you running here?”
“You never slept with her?”
“Are you kidding? Not so much as a catnap. She was some kind of bitch, though. I gave her the firm no-thanks, so then she tells me she’s Stanley’s wife. Said if I didn’t go to bed with her, she’d tell her husband and my wife that we had a torrid affair, or some such bullshit.”
“And?”
“And I told her to pound sand, what do you think?” He held out his hands, palms upward, and said, “You know where she went from there, don’t you?” Then he resumed pacing.
Randi drew a deep breath, then asked, “Why don’t you tell me?”
Avery stopped and engaged her in a staring contest the therapist quickly lost.
“Did she ever tell Joan anything about meeting you?”
“Not that I know of.”
Randi waited.
He finally said, “Go ahead, I know you want to ask me.”
She hesitated, then said, “You knew about Kyle, didn’t you?”
“Not at first,” he admitted as he gave up wandering around the papers on the floor and slumped back on the couch. “But I saw something was different. Let’s face it, I’m not the world’s greatest father, but I know my son. I realized something was up.”
“Did he tell you?”
“Eventually.” Avery shook his head. “What a rotten whore, going after a kid like that. Why? For revenge against me because I shot her down? How warped is that?”
“Very,” Randi admitted.
“The worst came afterward, when she told him that she’d done me too.”
“But you were never with her.”
“I’m telling you the truth, Randi. No goddamned way. I’ve been straight with you about the women I’ve been with, haven’t I? Trust me, Elizabeth’s story was a total lie.”
“But she told Kyle the two of you had been together?”
“Why do you think my son was so upset? After the incident on the bank roof, that’s when he and I finally talked it through.” He stared at her, his disbelief still evident as he said, “My poor kid actually thought about taking a swan dive off the bank building he was so confused. I was furious, believe me. But by then she was dead.” He let out a long sigh. “Solved one part of my problem anyway.”
Randi shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“For starters, you could tell me if you knew.”
“I didn’t,” she admitted. “But I suspected.” Randi said nothing about the existence of Elizabeth’s journal, nor the mention in her diary of the seduction of a young boy.
“Well now you know, and that stays just between us, right? My son believes me and, if anything, we ended up closer. By the way, Joan also suspects, but she doesn’t know anything for sure, okay?”
“How awful.”
“No kidding.”
Randi nodded. “Do you know anything about Elizabeth and other men in your group?”
“I don’t, but I wouldn’t be surprised. She thought she was completely irresistible, she made that pretty clear.” He shook his head. “She was good-looking, I’ll give her that, but even a fool could see she was poison.”
“Yes,” Randi agreed in a quiet voice, “she was.”
“Look, the woman struck out with me. Who the hell else she scored with is none of my business. I wasn’t about to bring it up in group because I had no reason to humiliate Stanley.”
“You’re right,” Randi said.
“Well at least we agree about something. So, if you want to keep playing Sherlock Holmes, why not put your mind to something useful, like finding my family and helping me get them back.”
CHAPTER 41
Later, after Avery was gone, Randi received a call from Walker.
“You with a patient?” he asked.
“Just finished with one.”
“Have a minute?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound good. Rough session?”
“You could say that.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“What do you think?”
“Can’t blame me for trying.”
She didn’t say whether she wanted to blame him or not.
“I met with Bob Stratford last night. He wants to help with my investigation. Unfortunately, he’s not the person who can give the help I need.”
“And I am.”
“You’ve never told me, did you finish reading Mrs. Knoebel’s journal?”
“I did.”
“And?”
Randi hesitated. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“You can say whether or not you’re ready to identify her murderer.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“What I mean is, I don’t have an answer for you, even if I could give it.”
“Let me help you, then. We have a pretty good idea of who some of the people were that Mrs. Knoebel was writing about. My guess is that you also recognized some of them as your patients.”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“One of the chapters talks about a woman we believe to be Nettie Sisson.”
Randi waited.
“I’ve already told you, we know all about her background.”
“That doesn’t prove she had anything to do with Elizabeth’s death.”
“I didn’t say it does. What it does do, however, is point to a tendency toward violence and an unbalanced mind.”
“Is that it?”
“Oh no. As you saw in her diary, Mrs. Knoebel claims she and Mrs. Sisson had much more than a homeowner-housekeeper relationship.”
“But you don’t really think she had anything to do with Elizabeth’s death . . .”
“Actually I don’t, for what that’s worth. But it’s something I have to consider. Then there are the various men Mrs. Knoebel bedded. We think we can prove one of them was at her home the afternoon she was murdered.”
“Is that true?”
“It is. It’s also possible that he was the one who shot Mrs. Knoebel, although I have cause to doubt it.”
Randi said nothing.
“Whoever broke into your office Monday night, what do you think they were looking for?”
“I don’t know.”
“My guess is that they were looking for the journal.”
“But I thought no one knew about her diary.”
“Secrets are tough to keep in a small town. Who knows that better than you? Where was it?”
“I had it with me,” she told him. “At home.”
“That was fortunate, at least so far.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning it was lucky they didn’t come after you for it.”
Randi wanted to say something, but remained silent.
“You’ve had some time to look through your files. Anything missing?”
“Not that I’ve found so far.”
“Uh huh.”
“If you’re trying to scare me, you are.”
“I cons
ider that progress.”
“Very funny.”
“Not meant to be.”
“Anthony, even if you put aside the problem of my professional ethics, you’re glossing over a critical factor here. I don’t actually know who murdered Elizabeth Knoebel.”
“Maybe not, but there are people who might believe you do. Word of the diary is starting to leak, and I’m afraid it won’t be long before the media gets hold of it. Gossip is a bitch.”
“So you think people will be looking to me if her diary becomes public knowledge.”
“Yes, I do.”
“One of those people being her murderer.”
“Precisely. So do us both a favor and help me with something that’s become even more important to me than solving this case.”
“What?” she asked.
“Protecting you,” he said.
After the call, Walker returned to Elizabeth’s diary. He picked up the section under SHAKE.DOC, called “Notes for Chapter Six.” Like the Nettie Sisson episode, it involved a woman rather than a man. Here, however, Elizabeth did not use an initial, she used a name.
Celia.
Was that a real name or another code?
Walker had another look at those pages.
Sex with a woman is a completely different experience for me. No matter how gentle a male lover intends to be, there is always some intrinsic violence in the act, an explosion, a sense of finality.
Women have different orgasms, especially together, as well as the ability to continue to enjoy multiple climaxes. There is none of the dynamic arc that exists with a man—the sex act as a parody of creation, life and death. Women can go on and on pleasuring each other, which sets up a myriad of unique opportunities.
Celia was special to me, in her way, not least because I was her first. She was a virgin in this sort of sexual liaison. That is far more appealing to me than a committed lesbian, who brings with her preconceived notions about roles and responsibilities. Celia was nervous, guilt-ridden, and filled with anxiety about my seduction of her. But she was also curious, intrigued, and incredibly needy.
The first time we were together there was so little physical expression the connection between us was almost chaste. The second time, however, we shared a bottle of champagne, and I provided a setting that was entirely private and secure.