Silent Treatment

Chapter24

At three-thirty in the morning, Maura gaveup trying to sleep and tiptoed from the small guest room to the den. Throughhis partially open door, she could see Harry asleep in the master bedroom. Fora time after they returned from C.C.'s Cellar, she thought he might ask her tojoin him there. He liked her. That seemed clear. But there were reasons — plenty of them — why he would want to keep some distance between them. Keyamong them was that she had given into her frustration and her demons and hadbeen drinking that afternoon.

It was just as well, she thought. Shewasn't ready for an emotional entanglement any more than he was. Still, shecouldn't remember the last time a man's looks had turned her on so. And moreimportant, he was one of the kindest, most decent men she had ever met. Itwould have been nice just to curl up in his arms for a night and let the chipsfall where they may.

She turned on the den light and ran herfinger over the volumes in the bookcase, searching for something light — verylight. Then again, she thought, perhaps heavy would be better. She pulled out athin paperback of poems by Lord Byron. Evelyn DellaRosa was written inperfect script inside the cover. Evie was, of course, another valid reason forHarry's maintaining distance between them. Maura closed the book and slid itback. She and Harry had been through so much since his wife's death that it wasdifficult to remember it had only been a few weeks.

She scanned the shelves once more andfinally settled on a coffee-table book on Ireland. In six hours she and Harrywere scheduled to meet with Pavel Nemec. Maura desperately wanted the sessionto work out. Connecting with the face that was locked in her subconscious wouldjust about balance her humiliation at having fallen off the wagon. She hadnever been hypnotized before and had no idea whether being sleepless for theentire preceding night would be a plus or a minus. On the other hand, if thelegendary Hungarian was as incredible as his reputation, it probably didn'tmatter.

As Harry had predicted, the moment Nemecheard his request, a time slot had been cleared out for them.

'Exactly what did you do for hisson?' Maura asked after Harry told her about the appointment.

'Ricard? Nothing, really. I just did aroutine physical for music camp,' he said. 'He plays the French horn.'

'And?'

'And I found a little lump that I didn'tlike beneath one arm.'

'Cancer?'

'Hodgkin's disease, actually. Thank God itwas in an early stage. It's been about six years now, so he's considered acure.'

He said it all so matter-of-factly, likeshe might talk about mixing paints. But Maura knew about school physicals andcamp physicals and such. She had had enough of them to know that most doctorsdid nothing but listen to your heart. But Harry hadn't dealt with Pavel Nemec'sson in such a cursory way. Harry had been. . Harry.

Maura reflected on what he had told her ofthe drama swirling around him at the hospital — the call from his friendAtwater asking him to remove himself from the staff; the hearing that was beingarranged to decide whether or not he would be allowed to continue to practicethere.

Harry Corbett didn't deserve that sort oftreatment, she thought angrily. She brushed her fingers across her feathery newhair and along the still-sensitive margins of her craniotomy scar. He alsodidn't deserve the treatment she had given him. Drinking again had beenpetulant, immature, and stupid. She was lucky he hadn't just handed her abottle and booted her out.

'No more,' she muttered, knowing that shehad failed to honor the same pledge many times before. 'That's it, lady. Notone more drop.'

She flipped through a few pages of Irishcountryside and felt her eyelids grow heavy. She wondered what it would feellike to be hypnotized — if it would feel like anything at all. O'Brien's Toweratop the Cliffs of Moher in County Clare blurred, then faded.

No more. The words echoed in her mind. Notone more drop. .

The aroma of brewing coffee worked its wayinto her consciousness. She opened her eyes a slit.

Pale morning light filtered into the denfrom between buildings. Harry sat on the easy chair beside the sofa. He wasdressed in gray sweats with a towel draped around his neck, and had obviouslyjust finished a workout. His dark hair glistened with sweat, and the color inhis cheeks made his rugged good looks just that much more appealing.

Maura reached over dreamily and squeezedhis hand.

'What time is it?' she said.

'After seven. We still have a while if youwant to doze off again. I'm just being selfish by waking you up like this.'

'Then I'll be even more selfish and stayawake.'

'How do you feel?'

'Sober.'

She knew it was the only word he reallywanted to hear.

'You ready to have your brain probed byThe Hungarian?'

'I am. He had just better be set to boldlygo where no man has gone before.'

'He's a wizard — at least that's what I'vebeen told. Hey, listen. Evie's three-hundred-dollar coffee-maker is hard atwork in the kitchen. The first thing she did after the wedding was to give awaymy Mr. Coffee. Hers goes to the gourmet shop by itself, mixes the perfectblend, then grinds, brews, and samples it.'

'With that build-up, I'm all taste buds.'

'How do you take it?'

'After yesterday you have to ask?'

Harry smiled.

'Black it is,' he said.

Maura had never paid a great deal ofattention to her looks. One ex-lover had said that was because she had neverhad to. Today, though, she took a bit more time than usual getting ready — alittle makeup, the enamel earrings Harry liked, and a cotton dress instead ofher trademark jeans.

She felt keyed up at the prospect of whatlay ahead — frightened that the session would be a bust, but almost equallyapprehensive about other possibilities. Over the two and a half years of herdownward spiral she had been a blackout drinker, with little regard for theplaces she went or the company she kept. Now she wondered just how selectivePavel Nemec could be in unlocking her memory. Most of what was hidden away inher subconscious might as well stay right where it was.

Nemec lived and worked at an address onthe Upper East Side. Before going there, she and Harry took a cab to hisoffice, stopping at her place to pick up an artist's sketch pad, some pencils,and some pastels, and at his bank to withdraw fifteen hundred dollars.

'I've canceled another half day at theoffice and gotten someone to make rounds on my patients in the hospital,' hetold her. 'Most of my practice is pretty loyal, I think. But I'm reallybeginning to put some of them to the test.'

She nodded sympathetically. 'This is theday,' she said. 'This is the day it all begins to turn around. Trust me. Hey,speaking of turning around, turn this way a bit. I want to try something.'

He did as she asked, and in less than twoblocks she had sketched a passable likeness of him. By the time they reachedthe office, the drawing was quite good.

'That's amazing,' he said.

'I can do better. But at least this tellsme I can do it at all. It's been a while. I actually once spent a summer inItaly doing sketches and caricatures for the tourists on the Piazza Navona.'

Walter Concepcion was already in thewaiting room, chatting with the woman behind the reception desk, whom Mauralearned was Mary Tobin. Maura was glad to see him again. Today he wore a blackT-shirt, and she noticed that his arms were sinewy and more muscular than shewould have expected. He had a tattoo over his left deltoid, artfully done, of askull with a serpent slithering out of one eye.

'They called from Dr. Erdman's office atthe hospital,' Mary said. 'The meeting is scheduled for ten tomorrow morning inthe conference room next to his office.'

Harry sighed.

'I guess you'll have to call my morningappointments and cancel them again.'

'I already did.'

'This is getting ridiculous. You know,maybe we should just close up shop for a while.'

The older woman's eyes flashed.

'You do,' she said, 'and I'm gonna find meone of those bamboo canes. You know, the ones that take flesh off with thesecond stroke. .'

'Okay, okay. We'll see what happenstomorrow.'

'Fine. I called your attorney to tell himthe time. He wants you to call him later today, but he said he'll be there.'

'At three hundred fifty an hour, whyshouldn't he be?'

'Pardon?'

'Nothing, Mary. Nothing. I'm just in myirritable idiot mode is all. It never lasts long.'

'Thank goodness,' she said.

Harry handed Concepcion the money in anenvelope. It was clear to Maura that Harry still had doubts about the man. Butshe had absolutely none. Walter had already given them a place to start — thefirst steps of a counterattack.

'Okay, we're in business,' Concepcionsaid, pocketing the envelope. 'And don't worry, Harry. Every dollar of thiswill be accounted for on paper — receipts and all. I actually think we got offto a running start last night. After I got home I called about forty escortservices. My line to them was that a woman named Desiree had given me the nightof my life when I was last in town six months ago. Unfortunately for me, afriend had made the arrangements, and I had no way of getting hold of him forthe name of the escort service. Money was no problem, but only if it was forDesiree. Three of the services made it sound as if they knew her. They saidthey'd try to get in touch with her and I should call back. A fourth one,Elegance, said she wasn't working for them anymore. That's the one I'm homingin on.'

'Why that one?' Maura asked.

'Because the woman I spoke to initiallygave me vague answers about Desiree. She took my number and said I'd be called.About an hour later, a different woman called. She said her name was Page. Ithink she runs the business. We played cat and mouse for a time. I mentionedmoney as often as I could. She denied knowing anyone named Desiree as often asshe could. Finally I told her that I knew Desiree was dead, and I just wantedsome information about her. I offered her five hundred dollars just to talkwith me in person for half an hour. Not one minute more. And she didn't have toanswer any questions about Desiree that she didn't want to. I was sure she wasgoing to say no. But when she said again that she didn't know Desiree, I knew Ihad her. We're meeting tomorrow morning.'

'That sounds promising,' Maura said.

'It sounds like we're about to be takenfor five hundred bucks,' Harry muttered.

'You just hang in there with me, boss,'Walter replied, the tic at the corner of his mouth firing off several times.'You don't seem to know it yet, but what you got here is the detective bargainof the century. Just keep in touch. Maybe we can get together tomorrow nightand compare notes. By the way, Maura, I'll check on an AA meeting for us to goto then if you still want to.'

'I'm ready.

'You have my number at home,' Harry said.'Call anytime if you learn something.' He hesitated and then added, 'Walter,I'm sorry to be giving you a hard time. I'll try not to.'

Concepcion pinched his own forearm.

'Hey, skin as thick as rhino hide, man,'he said. 'Besides, I haven't done anything yet except cost you money. When I doproduce, and I will, I expect you to get off my case.'

He shook hands with them both, waved toMary Tobin, and headed out.

'Come on,' Harry said. 'We can catch a cabon Fifth.'

'Okay,' Maura said, battling a sudden,inexplicable case of nerves, 'let's do it.' She started toward the door andthen turned back. 'Cross your fingers, Mary,' she said. 'We're off to see thewizard.'

The discreet brass placard above the bellread:

P. Nemec Behavior Modification

Pavel Nemec greeted them warmly and servedthem tea and cakes in the oak-paneled Victorian waiting room of his office. Heand Harry spent some time catching up on Nemec's family and on Harry's lifeover the years since they had last spoken. He was in his early sixties, Mauraguessed, graying and very slight, but fit. She found him charming andunpretentious.

Even so, the free-floating anxiety thathad begun to take hold of her in Harry's office intensified. Maura had tried sohard to reconnect with the face of the man in the white clinic coat. But theharder she tried, the flimsier the memories became. Now, she wondered whetherthe DTs, and the surgery, and the drugs had distorted reality so much for herthat the man, in fact, never did exist.

Her hands were shaking ever so slightly.She abandoned trying to hold her teacup and instead sat quietly as Harryexplained their situation. Nemec also listened intently. But midway throughHarry's account, he stood and began pacing slowly behind her chair, pausingtwice to rest his hands gently on her shoulders. Then suddenly he bent down,his lips close to her ear.

'There's nothing to be frightened about,Maurie,' he whispered. 'Nothing.'

Maura was startled. Maurie, notMaura. He had definitely said that. No one except her father had ever calledher Maurie. And then only until she was ten or so.

Harry stopped talking. Maura becameacutely aware of the traffic noises from the street. It was happening, sherealized. No couch, no watch-on-a-chain, no New Age music, no gimmicks at all.Pavel Nemec was at work — right here, right now.

He moved around to face her and placed hisfingertips on her temples. Her face had closed now, but her mind was racing.Images and faces cascaded through her thoughts like a video on rapid search.Faces from her childhood — teachers, playmates, Tom, Mother. . houses androoms, rural scenes and city streets. She connected easily with some of thepictures, not at all with others. . Then suddenly, one scene began repeatingitself over and over. It was her father, a drink sloshing in his hand, turningtowards her. His rheumy eyes were cold with contempt. His words were thick andslurred. Spittle sprayed from his mouth as he railed at her.

You 're worthless, Maurie. .hopeless and worthless. .

You can't do a damn thing rightexcept give me headaches. Just like your mother. .

Except for marrying her, you'reabout the worst mistake I've ever made. . In fact, if it weren't for you,I'd never have had to marry her in the first place. .

'Easy, Maurie,' Nemec said with gentlefirmness. 'He will never, ever speak to you like that again. . He was sick.That's all … You never deserved to be spoken to like that. He just couldn'thelp it.' Nemec cupped his calming hands behind her ears. 'You did your best toplease him. . He hated himself too much to show love for anyone. . Henever thought about what he was doing to you. . You can let it go now, Maura. . You can let it go forever …'

The swirling images began to recede. Mauraknew her eyes were closed, but she could see the mystic in his gray cardigan,pacing in front of her. Her apprehension was gone now — the shroud ofself-loathing that had blanketed her life for so long had lifted, leaving herwith an incredible sense of peace. All those times her father had crushed herpride, belittled her. Even news of his death couldn't kill the terrible seedshe had sown. Throughout her life, each time success was in her grasp, herpathological self-doubt would lead her to find some way to sabotage and destroyit.

Worthless. . How old could she have beenwhen he began calling her that — seven? Eight?

Now, finally, she knew that it had neverbeen her. Not once. She never deserved what Arthur Hughes had done to her. And,like Pavel said, he could never hurt her again.

Her eyes still closed, she saw Nemec moveto the table and retrieve her sketch pad and charcoal. Then she felt him set iton her lap.

We have work to do. She heard his voice, but knewhe had not spoken. You're free now, Maura — free to see what needs to be seen. .

Harry would later tell her that she hadnever opened her eyes until the detailed sketch was complete. He would describethe eerie way the charcoal in her hand darted over the paper, the disjointedbut absolutely unified process by which the man's face took shape. He wouldtell her about the moment, as she was still shading and shadowing him with hercharcoal stick and finger, when he recognized him.

Maura stretched her arms and worked herneck around. She felt relaxed and refreshed, as if she had just stepped from awarm spa. She knew that she had produced a drawing of the man who had murderedEvie DellaRosa. She also knew that Pavel Nemec had helped her in ways notherapist or counselor ever had. There were flaws in her perception of herself- gaping flaws for which she had never been responsible, flaws that keptdriving her self-destructive behavior, flaws that made her time and again breakthe promises she made to herself.

No more. . Not one more drop. .

She opened her eyes and looked down at therendering. Then she drew in the man's clip-on tie and shaded it green with goldaccents. Pavel Nemec was back in his chair, casually sipping tea.

'How'd you do that?' she asked.

He smiled at her kindly and shrugged.

'My encounters with clients are not alwaysthis successful. Some days it is like walking through a dense fog for me. Somedays, like today, I can see with incredible clarity. I believe you've beenwaiting for me for some time, Maura. Possibly years.'

'You did something about my drinking,didn't you?'

'No, but you did. And most forcefully, Imight add.'

She held up the drawing for Harry. Tearsglistened in her eyes.

'I did it,' she said.

'I guess you did. It's amazinglyaccurate.'

'How do you know?'

'Because I saw him. The exact man youdrew. He was right outside your room the whole time I was there, just waitingfor the chance to finish what he had started when he ordered Evie's IV.'

'Outside the room?'

'Buffing the floors, listening to aWalkman — the sort of person you look at over and over without actually seeinghim. The nurses never saw him come on the floor after I left because he didn't.He was already there. He left before I returned.'

'Are you sure?' Maura asked.

Harry studied the drawing for just a fewseconds.

'I've never been more certain of anythingin my life,' he said. 'You two make a hell of a team.'

Maura crossed to the unassuming little manand kissed him on the cheek.

'You don't know the half of it,' she said.