Mystery (11 page)

Threw himself to the floor and pummeled the carpet with both fists.

Jumped to his feet again and watched me.

I did nothing.

“I’m gonna draw.”

“Okay.”

“By myself.”

“You want me to leave.”

“Yeah.”

“Would you mind if I stayed a little bit longer?”

Silence.

“Chad, how about I just sit here and don’t talk while you draw.”

“Unh-uh.”

“Okay, then I’ll tell Mommy we’re finished for today.”

Scuttling on his knees to a box in the corner, he grabbed a red marker, dove down belly-first, flipped the tablet open, and commenced drawing circles. Large, red page-filling circles that he began filling in laboriously.

Big red bubbles.

“Bye, Chad. Nice meeting you.”

“
Unh
. No!”

“No?”

“You draw, too,” he ordered, without looking up. “We’ll draw fast.” Ripping his circle drawing out of the tablet, he tore out the following blank page and thrust it at me.

“Draw!”

“What color should I use?”

“Black.” He punched air. “We’re going fast. I’m gonna win.”

Ten minutes later, he’d announced victory fourteen times before announcing, “This time you go.”

I left him, found Gretchen in her living room, exactly where we’d left her.

“So?”

“He’s a great kid.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that. What’s going on in his head?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I don’t believe this,” she said. “Jesus, it’s not like I’m going to be around forever, I need meat and potatoes—put
out
! Why the hell else would I pay you?”

“He’s going through what any kid would go through.”

“Meaning?”

“Anger, fear. I’m not going to tell you anything dramatic right now because there’s nothing dramatic to tell.”

“Thought you were the master shrink.”

“One thing to be aware of,” I said. “Everyone’s been telling him he didn’t give you the illness. That’s better than not dealing with it but sometimes too much repetition can make kids anxious.”

“He said that?”

“I deduced it.” I smiled. “Being a master shrink.”

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t bug him about it. I told him once, maybe twice to make sure it sank in, ’cause that’s what the books say. Who’s everyone?”

“Who else has talked to him?”

“Just Bunny,” she said. “Oh, shit, I told Bunny to tell him, what, she overdid it? Typical. Only reason I included her was so he’d get a consistent message. And because one day she’ll be his … she’ll be the one to …” Burying her face in her hands, she moaned, “Oh, God.” Looking up: “Would you just please goddamn hold me!”

I was doing just that when Chad came out, holding a page full of black circles.

“You love her?” he said.

Gretchen pulled away, swiped her eyes frantically. “No, no, honey, we’re just …”

“You’re sad. He wants to make you happy. Maybe he loves you.”

“Oh, baby, you’re so smart.” She spread her arms. “No, he’s a friend, he’s helping. And you know what I really want? For
you
to be happy.”

Chad stood there.

“C’mere, honey, give Mommy a hug.”

He walked over to me and held out the drawing. “For you.”

“Thanks, Chad.”

“You can come back. We’ll make Mommy happy together.”

Gretchen swooped him to her breast. “I
am
happy, honey, you make me
so, so
happy.”

The movement had pulled the air hose from her nostrils.

A hiss filled the room.

Chad said, “Put it back. So you can get better.”

“Anything you say, sweetie boy smart boy. Anything.” Plugging the line back in, she said, “Now come up on my lap and I’ll tell you a story.”

“No,” he said. “I’m too heavy.”

“You’re—”

“I’m big. I’m heavy.” Turning to me. “You can go, I’m helping her.”

Two hours later, Gretchen phoned and spoke to me in a new voice: low, measured, soft around the edges.

“I don’t know what you did but it was amazing. Until now he’s been pulling away from me, when I try to talk to him he ignores me. After you left we hung out and he was my snuggle-bunny again. He even let me tell him stories about when he was little. It was awesome. Like having my baby back. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“I’m glad, Gretchen.”

A beat. “I’m not sure I like the flavor of that.”

“Of what?”

“Your tone,” she said. “Tentative. Like don’t get too happy, bitch, it could all come crashing down?”

“If I were you, Gretchen, I’d avoid interpretation. I’m glad it worked out. He’s a terrific little boy.”

Silence.

“You’re a tough one to read,” she said. “I can’t tell if you’re playing me. For all I know you’re watching porn on your computer while we talk.”

I laughed. “Too late in the day for multitasking.”

“But it is true, right? We had one good day but it could go back to the way it was and he could start shutting me out again.”

“Kids have moods like anyone else. There’s no way to predict.”

“Seize the day, huh? Shut the fuck up and stop thinking about me, me, me and enjoy what I’ve got.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

“Just answer one thing for me: Can someone be a terrible person but still a good mom?”

“You’re a good mom, Gretchen.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“From my perspective, you’re a caring, skillful mother.”

“I didn’t mess him up too bad?”

“Chad’s a normal kid going through a tough situation. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re doing a great job so don’t beat yourself up.”

“Okay, okay—so when are you coming back?”

“Let’s give it a few days so Chad doesn’t feel overwhelmed.”

“Like everyone shrinky-dinkying him to the point where he wants to upchuck.”

“You do have a way with words,” I said.

“Actually, words were never my thing, Doc. I flunked English in high school. Along with a whole lot of other stuff. Being stoned all the time and never studying ain’t the pathway to academic stardom.”

“But it sure was fun at the time.”

She laughed. “It’s more than the training, isn’t it? Send some asshole to shrink school, you end up with an educated asshole. Which, now that I think about it, sounds like a good title for a porno. Analyst Anal Adventures: Educating Ruby’s Ruby Asshole.”

I said, “In terms of Chad’s next appointment—”

“Stop being
inappropriate
, Gretchen. I may be a compassionate therapist but my patience isn’t endless.”

I named a day.

She said, “Okay, okay, okay, fine. Bunny may be here, it’s about time for her next nosy-pants visit. She’s decided she needs to be my early-stage hospice provider, even though I keep telling her I’m fine.”

“But you don’t stop her from coming.”

“Right now,” she said, “she’s the only person who loves me.”

“Not counting Chad.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m talking someone who can actually help me. With the nasty stuff, the disgusting stuff. ’Cause eventually, they tell me it’s going to get gross.” Her voice caught. “You should probably meet her, anyway. Seeing as she’ll be taking over.”

“Sure.”

“You’re a peach,” she said. “I’m even starting to think you might be for real—sorry, I need to control that evil mouth, there are nice people out there, I just never met them.” Shrill laughter. “Me, me, me—okay, here’s something about
you:
As a token of my appreciation, I’m going to pay you a bonus.”

“Out of the question, Gretch—”

“Hold on, before you brush me off, smart guy, I’m not talking money. What I’m going to give you is better. Information. As in for Sturgis with his current case, the one that was on the news this morning.”

I didn’t speak.

She said, “Aha, now I’ve got his attention! Okay, here’s the deal: I was waiting to see how you did with Chad today so I’d know whether or not you deserved another—a
special
treat. And guess what: You passed the test.”

“Gretchen, if you’ve got information for Lieutenant Sturgis, you need to tell him directly.”

“You’re not pals anymore?”

“Bartering is unethical.”

“I’m not bartering, I’m offering you a freebie on that girl whose face was on the news. Everyone knows when the cops can’t I.D. a victim they’re screwed. For Sturgis to put her face up on TV, he’s screwed blue and I just might know who she is.”

“I hope you do, Gretchen, but I can’t be your middleman.”

“Why not?”

“I owe you undivided loyalties and you owe me no payment other than what we already agreed upon.”

“Now you’re being a stiff.”

“Now I’m being your therapist.”

“It’s not payment, it’s a bonus.”

“Look at it this way,” I said. “If I had a patient who owned a jewelry store, I wouldn’t take a Rolex for my services.”

“Why not?”

“It’s wrong.”

“I don’t see it,” she said. “I think you’re being a total stiff.”

“Be that as it may.”

“You have no desire to hear what I have?”

“I’m sure Lieutenant Sturgis does.”

“I don’t want to call him,” she said. “I can’t stand him.”

The meeting between her and Milo had lasted all of twenty minutes. Frosty, but not conspicuously hostile.

“It’s up to you, Gretchen. See you in a few days.”

“I tell you I might know how to I.D. a dead girl and you don’t give a shit?”

“What you and I do isn’t about me.”

“Period.”

“Period.”

“So now I need to call that rude fat fag, personally,” she said. “Man, you should work for the IRS, talk about a bunch of rigid morons. Speaking of which, I need to talk to you about something else, yeah, it’s back to me, me, me, can I have another appointment for me, me, me? Sometime when Chad’s in school and before Bunny gets here and starts to run my world?”

“Let’s talk right now.”

“Only if you charge me, Mr. Ethical. Gretchen learned from her previous profession: Only chumps give freebies.”

“You advanced me a lot of money,” I said. “Let’s consider it a draw on your account.”

“Ka-ching ka-ching—hey, what if I don’t live long enough to get my money’s worth out of you?”

“What’s on your mind, Gretchen?”

“Is your phone secure?”

“Far as I know.”

“Hmm … yeah, why would anyone give a shit about a shrink? No offense. Okay, it’s about those sub-scum suck-ass parasites aka the IRS. When they nailed me on that tax bullshit, part of the deal was I’d pay back everything I’d supposedly evaded. I liquidated all kinds of shit, lost all of my real estate.”

“But …”

“Exactly,” she said. “I saved up for a rainy day. What I need to make sure is that after I bite it no one comes after Chad’s trust fund. What my advisors-to-remain-anonymous are telling me is that by itself the IRS won’t do diddly ’cause they’re stupid, couldn’t find a fart after a bean dinner. But if the damn LAPD gets on my case again and sics the Feds on me, everything could get royally fucked up. This is my kid, I can’t let that happen.”

“Why would the cops go after you?”

“Why, indeed.”

“You’re back in business?”

“Well,” she said, “let’s just say I do a bit of consulting. Have been for a while. Which is how I came across your little informational treat—correction, the fat fag’s little treat. Reason I’m bringing this up now is because you’ve got connections to the cops.”

“My only connection is—”

“Fatso, yeah, yeah, yeah, but
he’s
got a direct line to the top. As in the
Top.
”

“Not really, Gretchen.”

“No? How many lieutenants get called into the chief’s office like he does?” She giggled. “Makes you wonder if the chief’s got a secret life, maybe likes to suck the big one. You ever pick up on anything like that?”

“What do you think I can do for you, Gretchen?”

“It’s not what I think, it’s what I
need
. You have to grease me with Sturgis so when I’m gone the department doesn’t molest my kid’s future.”

“Is that the reason you called me in the first place?”

“What? I hurt your feelings? No, I called you because someone I trusted said you were righteous and knew your business. Then I thought of you and Sturgis and hit on a new idea. Which, now that I think about it, you’re obligated to go along with. ’Cause Chad’s your patient and this is about Chad and if you fail to protect him, what does
that
say about your ethics?”

I thought about how to answer that.

She said, “It’s not that complicated. Your job is to help my kid, so do it.”

“I don’t see Sturgis having that kind of influence but if it comes to that, I’ll do my best.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“On the grave of Freud?”

“Adler, Jung, and B. F. Skinner, too.”

“If it comes to that, tell Sturgis I was a good mother. Otherwise he finds out I’m gone, he’ll go have a six-course meal.”

“I doubt that, Gretchen.”

“What, he’s a sensitive, mushy-hearted marshmallow, not a big fat bully who ruined my lunch and all I was trying to do was recuperate from prison?”

“I’ll do everything I can for you, Gretchen. Promise.”

“Fine. Now go tell him SukRose was a baby step, it’s time to look for a scumbag named Stefan.”

Pronouncing it Ste-
fahn
.

I thought:
Stefan who?

I said: Nothing.

She said, “Don’t you want to know his last name?”

“I’m sure Sturgis does.”

“Man, you’re a tough one, got those balls of titanium. Ever consider donating sperm?”