By reason of insanity

40

Before his scheduled phone call with Catherine O'Rourke on Tuesday, Quinn called Dr. Rosemarie Mancini. She was driving her convertible, and the noise from the wind blowing into the phone made it hard to hear.

Quinn explained his potential involvement in Catherine's case and asked Rosemarie about the visions. To Quinn's surprise, his favorite shrink was a lot less skeptical than he was.

"There's a substantial body of research on this type of thing," she said, speaking loudly over the sound of wind and traffic. "Both the University of Arizona and the University of Virginia have psychology professors investigating the paranormal. I hear the guy at Arizona has a government grant from the National Institute for Health for nearly two million."

"Maybe I should apply for a grant," Quinn muttered. "Most of my clients certainly qualify as paranormal."

Rosemarie ignored him. "You know that NBC show called Medium?"

"I've seen the advertisements."

"That's based on a real person. Allison DuBois. I'll give you her entire story some other time, but she's helped resolve lots of actual cases. She's part of a study at Arizona called the Asking Questions Study-basically an attempt to communicate with dead people through mediums and ask questions that dead people never seem to answer. Stuff like, 'What do you do every day?' and 'What type of body or container for the soul do you have?' and 'Do you eat? Do you engage in sex?' That kind of stuff."

Quinn shook his head. You could apparently get a government grant for anything. "What's the answer to that last question?"

"Seems like all the mediums have their own take on things," Rosemarie said. "They're probably projecting their own biases."

Quinn knew that Rosemarie had both feet firmly anchored in the present dimension, so he decided to get her take. "What about you, doc? Do you think some people actually have this ability to communicate through some other dimension-dreams, premonitions, that type of thing?"

Quinn heard horns honking and, knowing Rosemarie Mancini, assumed she had just cut somebody off. "You asking me as an expert witness or as an individual?"

"As an individual, based on your psychiatric training."

Uncharacteristically, Rosemarie hesitated. "There are some interesting studies on phenomena called 'crisis apparitions,'" she said after a few seconds. "That's when somebody has a strange sense of foreboding or a dark premonition about a relative or someone else just before they die. It's basically what your potential client is saying happened to her."

This surprised Quinn. "You believe that stuff?" For Quinn, if you couldn't touch it, then it wasn't real.

"I'm not saying I buy it. I'm just saying there is some statistical data. Personally, my take focuses more on the spiritual angles."

This didn't surprise Quinn. Rosemarie's diagnoses always seemed to include a spiritual dimension. "Like what?" he asked.

"There's another realm out there, Quinn. A spiritual realm inhabited by real demons and also forces for good. I think God sometimes gives people dreams or visions about things that haven't yet happened or, occasionally, extraordinary insights about things that have already occurred. I'm not sure why, but I'm pretty certain the phenomena exist."

Quinn thought about this for a moment. He wasn't buying this theory that hinged on Catherine O'Rourke's being an innocent conveyor of visions. In Quinn's thinking, Catherine had to be guilty. The "visions," if they were even real, were probably nothing more than manifestations from a repressed personality desperately trying to communicate with the Catherine that everybody knew.

But if this case went to trial, and if Catherine insisted on trying to prove her innocence, it would be heard by a jury in Virginia Beach not Las Vegas. Those folks might be more open to a spiritual explanation than one based on communicating with ghosts of dead people or even "crisis apparitions." Rosemarie might not be Southern, and her northeast accent might grate on the jury, but she could speak their spiritual language. And even if O'Rourke ultimately pled insanity, an expert like Rosemarie Mancini would be priceless.

The doctor seemed to be in a good mood. Quinn decided he might as well push his luck. "If I take this case, will you help me?"

"I'm sure what you really meant to ask," Dr. Mancini said, her tone chiding, "was if you took the case, would I evaluate the potential client and give you my professional opinion about these visions."

"Right. Of course."

"Can your potential client afford me?"

"What?" asked Quinn. "I think you're breaking up."

"I asked if your client can afford me," Rosemarie repeated, raising her voice and speaking more slowly.

"Absolutely," Quinn said. "We both adore you."

Dr. Mancini laughed. "That's what I was afraid of."

But Quinn knew she would do it, especially after the check he had just sent her for Annie's case.

"Does that mean you're in?" he asked.

Even over the cell phone, Quinn could hear her sigh. "Against my better judgment," she said.