Therapy

CHAPTER 19

“That girl,” said Sheila Quick. “She was hired to help Gavin, so instead she goes and gets him into trouble.”

Her living room looked the same, but drawn drapes turned it funereal, and the space had gone stale. The cigarette box from which Jerome Quick had lifted his smokes was empty. Sheila Quick wore a black cotton robe with a zipper up the front. Her ash hair was turbaned by a black silk scarf. Her face was tight and white and old, and she wore pink mules. Above the slippers, her feet were knobby and blue-veined.

She said, “Unbelievable.”

Milo said, “What is, ma’am?”

“What she did to him.”

“You see Gavin’s arrest as Beth Gallegos’s fault.”

“Of course I do! Do you know how Gav met her? She was a therapist at Saint John’s, was supposed to be helping Gav get back his dexterity. She knew what he’d been through! She should’ve been more understanding!”

Milo and I said nothing.

“Listen,” said Sheila Quick, “if she was so concerned about her safety, why’d she take so long to complain? And then what does she do? Goes straight for the police, dials 911 like it’s some big-deal emergency when all Gav did was knock on her door- I know she said he pounded but no one else heard any pounding and Gav told me he just knocked and I believe my son!”

“You don’t think she should’ve called 911.”

“I think if she was so convinced there was a problem, she had ample opportunity to come to us. Why didn’t she? All she had to do was call and let us know she thought Gavin was a little… eager. We’d have talked to him. Why’d she let this alleged problem linger if it was so bad? You’re professionals. Does that make sense to you?”

Milo said, “She never got in touch with you beforehand.”

“Never, not once. See what I mean?”

Milo nodded.

“And then all of a sudden Gav’s arrested and we have to hire a lawyer and go through all that rigamarole.” Her smile was sickly. “Of course, in the end they dismissed it. Obviously, it was nothing.”

Gavin had pled to a misdemeanor and been sentenced to therapy.

Sheila Quick said, “Lieutenant, I certainly hope you don’t think what happened to my Gav was related to anything he did. Or anyone he knew.”

“It couldn’t be anyone he knew?”

“Of course not, we know only nice people. And Gavin…” She began to cry. “Gavin, after the accident, he didn’t have anyone in his life except his father and me and his sister.”

“No friends,” I said.

“That’s the point!” she said, pleased, as if she’d solved a difficult puzzle. “It was no one he knew because he really didn’t know anyone. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, Lieutenant, and I’m certain my baby just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“A stranger,” said Milo.

“Look at September 11. Did any of those people know the pigs who killed them? It’s exactly like that- evil’s out there and sometimes it bites you and now the Quick family’s been bitten.”

She sprang up, raced to the kitchen, came back with a plate of Oreos.

“Eat,” she ordered.

Milo took a cookie and finished it in two bites, passed the plate to me. I placed it on a side table.

“So tell me,” said Sheila Quick. “What progress have you made?”

Milo brushed crumbs from his trousers to his hand, searched for somewhere to put them.

“Just drop it all on the rug, Lieutenant. I clean every day. Sometimes twice a day. What else is there to do around here? Jerry’s already back at work, doing his businessman thing. I envy that about him.”

“Being able to concentrate?” I said.

“Being able to cut himself off. It’s a male thing, right? You men cut yourselves off and go out and hunt and prowl and make deals and do whatever it is you think you’re supposed to do, and we women are stuck waiting for you as if you’re some kind of conquering heroes.”

“Mrs. Quick,” said Milo, “you’re not going to like this question, but I have to ask it anyway. Did Gavin ever run into any problems with women other than Beth Gallegos?”

Sheila Quick’s hands closed into fists. “No, and the very fact you’re suggesting it- I tell you that’s just so… distorted- shortsighted.” She ripped the scarf-turban from her head and began kneading the fabric. Her hair was elaborately pinned, compressed tightly to her skull. White roots showed through the blond.

Milo said, “I’m sorry, but I need to-”

“You need to, you need to- what you need to do is find the madman who killed my son.”

“The young lady he was with, ma’am. We still haven’t been able to identify her.”

Sheila got up and snatched the plate of cookies from where I’d placed them. She returned to the kitchen, swung the door closed, stayed in there.

“As predicted,” said Milo, “a pretty scene. I know she’s gone through hell but ten to one she was a harpy before.”

Minutes passed.

He said, “I’d better go in there and finish up with her. Be kind to yourself and stay here.”

Just as he rose, the kitchen door swung open, and Sheila Quick stomped through. She’d unpinned and brushed her hair but applied no makeup. Milo sat back down. She stopped directly in front of us, placed her hands on her hips.

“Is there anything else?”

“The girl Gavin was wi-”

“Don’t know her, never seen her, can’t change that. No one in the family knows her, including my daughter.”

“You asked Kelly.”

“I called and asked her if Gavin was dating anyone, and she said she hadn’t heard that.”

“Were the two of them close?”

“Of course. Kelly’s my bright one, she knows her way around.”

I said, “Any plans for her to come back?”

“No. Why should she? She’s got a life. Even though I don’t.”

She stared at me. “Gavin was a good human being. A handsome human being, of course girls liked him. Which is why that Gallegos woman is so off base. Gavin didn’t need to chase some little… nurse type.”

“When did he and Kayla Bartell stop dating?”

“Don’t know,” she snapped. “Why don’t you ask her? The… she hasn’t even been by to see me. Not once. Not a condolence note.” A pink mule tapped the carpet. “Are we finished?”

Milo said, “You’ve heard about Dr. Koppel.”

“She got murdered,” said Sheila Quick. “I read about it yesterday.”

Matter-of-fact, no emotion.

“Any thoughts about that, Mrs. Quick?”

“It’s terrible,” she said. “Everyone’s getting murdered. What a city- I’m thirsty. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks, ma’am. Let me toss a few names at you. Please tell me if any of them are familiar. Anson Conniff.”

“No. Who’s he?”

“Flora Newsome?”

“No.”

“Brian Van Dyne, Roy Nichols?”

“No, no, no. Who are these people?”

“Not important,” said Milo. “Nothing you need to worry about. Thanks for your time.”

“Time,” said Sheila Quick. “I’ve got too much of that.”