right?"
"Right."
"You're thinking how vindictive I'm being— by the way, when it happened I was out of town. San Francisco. Looking over a hotel. Trailed by ten clinically depressed Tokyo bankers. They paid thirty million five years ago, are itching to unload for considerably less."
"Great," I said.
"It certainly is. Do you recall all that yellow-peril nonsense a while back: death rays from the Rising Sun, soon our kids will be eating sushi for school lunch? About as realistic as Godzilla. Everything cycles, the key to feeling smart is to live long enough." Another laugh. "Guess the sonofabitch won't feel smart anymore. So . . . that's my alibi."
"Do you feel you need an alibi?" The first thing I'd wondered when I'd heard about Mate.
Silence. Not a phone problem this time; I could hear him breathing. When he spoke again, his tone was subdued and tight.
"I wasn't being literal, Doctor. Though the police have tried to talk to me, probably have some kind of list they're running down. If they're proceeding sequentially, I'd be at the bottom or close to it. The sonofabitch murdered another two women after Joanne. Anyway, enough of that. My call wasn't about him, it's about Stacy."
"How's Stacy doing?"
"Essentially fine. If you're asking did the sonofabitch's death flash her back to her mother, I haven't noticed any untoward reactions. Not that we've talked about it. Joanne hasn't been a topic since Stacy stopped seeing you. And Mate's never been of interest to her, which is good. Dirt like that doesn't deserve her time. Essentially, we've all been fine. Eric's back at Stanford, finished up the year with terrific grades, working with an econ professor on his honors paper. I'm flying up to see him this weekend, may take Stacy with me, give her another look at the campus."
"She's decided on Stanford?"
"Not yet, that's why I want her to see it again. She's in good shape application-wise. Her grades really picked up after she saw you. This semester she's going the whole nine yards. Full load, A.P. courses, honors track. We're still trying to decide whether she should apply for early admission or play the field. Stanford and the Ivys are taking most of their students early. Her being a legacy won't hurt, but it's always competitive. That's why I'm calling. She still has problems with decision-making, and the early-admit deadlines are in November, so there's some time pressure. I assume you'll be able to find time for her this week."
"I can do that," I said. "But—"
"Payment will be the same, correct? Unless you've raised your fee."
"Payment's the same—"
"No surprise," he said. "With the HMOs closing in, you'd be hard-pressed to raise. We've still got you on computer, just bill through the office."
I took a single deep breath. "Richard, I'd be happy to see Stacy, but before I do you need to know that the police have consulted me on Mate's murder."
"I see . . . Actually, I don't. Why would they do that?"
"I've consulted to the department in the past and the primary detective is someone I've worked with. He hasn't made a specific request, just wants open-ended psychological consultation."
"Because the sonofabitch was crazy?"
"Because the detective thinks I might be helpful—"
"Dr. Delaware, that's ambiguous to the point of meaninglessness."
"But true," I said, inhaling again. "I've said nothing about having seen your family, but there may be conflict. Because they are running down the list of Mate's—"
"Victims," he broke in. "Please don't give me that 'travelers' bullshit."
"The point I'm trying to make, Richard, is that the police will try to reach you. Before I go any further, I wanted to discuss it with you. I don't want you to feel there's a conflict of interest, so I called—"
"So you've found yourself in a conflictual situation and now you're trying to establish your position."
"It's not a matter of
"Right."
"You're thinking how vindictive I'm being— by the way, when it happened I was out of town. San Francisco. Looking over a hotel. Trailed by ten clinically depressed Tokyo bankers. They paid thirty million five years ago, are itching to unload for considerably less."
"Great," I said.
"It certainly is. Do you recall all that yellow-peril nonsense a while back: death rays from the Rising Sun, soon our kids will be eating sushi for school lunch? About as realistic as Godzilla. Everything cycles, the key to feeling smart is to live long enough." Another laugh. "Guess the sonofabitch won't feel smart anymore. So . . . that's my alibi."
"Do you feel you need an alibi?" The first thing I'd wondered when I'd heard about Mate.
Silence. Not a phone problem this time; I could hear him breathing. When he spoke again, his tone was subdued and tight.
"I wasn't being literal, Doctor. Though the police have tried to talk to me, probably have some kind of list they're running down. If they're proceeding sequentially, I'd be at the bottom or close to it. The sonofabitch murdered another two women after Joanne. Anyway, enough of that. My call wasn't about him, it's about Stacy."
"How's Stacy doing?"
"Essentially fine. If you're asking did the sonofabitch's death flash her back to her mother, I haven't noticed any untoward reactions. Not that we've talked about it. Joanne hasn't been a topic since Stacy stopped seeing you. And Mate's never been of interest to her, which is good. Dirt like that doesn't deserve her time. Essentially, we've all been fine. Eric's back at Stanford, finished up the year with terrific grades, working with an econ professor on his honors paper. I'm flying up to see him this weekend, may take Stacy with me, give her another look at the campus."
"She's decided on Stanford?"
"Not yet, that's why I want her to see it again. She's in good shape application-wise. Her grades really picked up after she saw you. This semester she's going the whole nine yards. Full load, A.P. courses, honors track. We're still trying to decide whether she should apply for early admission or play the field. Stanford and the Ivys are taking most of their students early. Her being a legacy won't hurt, but it's always competitive. That's why I'm calling. She still has problems with decision-making, and the early-admit deadlines are in November, so there's some time pressure. I assume you'll be able to find time for her this week."
"I can do that," I said. "But—"
"Payment will be the same, correct? Unless you've raised your fee."
"Payment's the same—"
"No surprise," he said. "With the HMOs closing in, you'd be hard-pressed to raise. We've still got you on computer, just bill through the office."
I took a single deep breath. "Richard, I'd be happy to see Stacy, but before I do you need to know that the police have consulted me on Mate's murder."
"I see . . . Actually, I don't. Why would they do that?"
"I've consulted to the department in the past and the primary detective is someone I've worked with. He hasn't made a specific request, just wants open-ended psychological consultation."
"Because the sonofabitch was crazy?"
"Because the detective thinks I might be helpful—"
"Dr. Delaware, that's ambiguous to the point of meaninglessness."
"But true," I said, inhaling again. "I've said nothing about having seen your family, but there may be conflict. Because they are running down the list of Mate's—"
"Victims," he broke in. "Please don't give me that 'travelers' bullshit."
"The point I'm trying to make, Richard, is that the police will try to reach you. Before I go any further, I wanted to discuss it with you. I don't want you to feel there's a conflict of interest, so I called—"
"So you've found yourself in a conflictual situation and now you're trying to establish your position."
"It's not a matter of
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