by Casey Dorman
Chapter 16
“This feels odd. I’ve never talked to a psychiatrist before.” Sherry Bennett seated herself in the chair in front of George’s desk. She was an average height woman, appearing to be about thirty, not beautiful, but with a round, pleasant face, full lips, and a small turned up nose. She had soft blonde hair, which fell in waves to just below her shoulders. Her skin was pale, and she had striking blue eyes, which she kept glued to the floor. Her demeanor was modest and tentative, as if she were unsure of herself, which was quite appropriate for the situation, George thought. She was dressed in a rather short skirt, but not one that George would have thought of as risqué by any means. She wore an unrevealing satin blouse.
“Of course your being here isn’t your idea, so I understand that this seems quite strange to you,” George replied. He was doing his best to be nonthreatening. “Mr. Bonaventure is my client, and I understand that he is the reason for your wanting to leave his employ.”
Her face reddened. “I can’t believe that he wanted me to tell you what he’s been doing.”
“He’s quite disturbed by his own behavior, as am I. I wanted to find out the extent of it before going too far in his treatment.” What he said was true, although the idea for the woman’s visit was Bonaventure’s not his.
Her face stiffened, as though his words had reminded her of Bonaventure’s offenses. “What has he told you?”
“I’d rather that you told me in your own words. I don’t want to bias you by telling you what he’s said.”
She looked as if she was about to cry. She hung her head. “I don’t think I deserved the things he said to me. I never did the things he said I did.”
He felt like reaching out to her. “I’m not here to judge you, Miss Bennett. It’s Mr. Bonaventure who is seeing me, and it’s because he acknowledges that he has behaved inappropriately.” What he’d said wasn’t exactly true, but Lucas had acknowledged behavior that George regarded as inappropriate.
“I’m glad of that. I really didn’t deserve to be treated that way. And I really am quitting, even if he is sorry for how he’s acted.”
“I understand that. This is not an attempt to get you to change your mind. Not in the least.”
“Does Mr. Bonaventure have something wrong with him? Is it because of his wife?”
“His wife?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Being missing and all that. Everyone says that she must be dead. A lot of people think he killed her; even people at the office have said that.” She looked away, as if she were embarrassed.
“And how about you, do you think his behavior toward you is related to his wife? Do you think he killed her?”
She glanced up at him, squinting her eyes as if she might be suspicious of his motives for asking the question. “I’m sure he didn’t kill his wife. That’s just talk around the office. But he changed after his wife disappeared. I’d noticed him looking at me before that, but he only began saying things to me after his wife went missing.”
“So he seemed interested in you even before his wife died?”
“He noticed me, I think, but lots of men do.” Her cheeks colored. She looked up at George and held his gaze.
George felt his own cheeks warming. Was she being provocative? He must be projecting because of what Lucas had said about the woman. He cleared his throat. “What was it he said to you when his behavior began to bother you?”
She took her eyes off him and let her gaze wander around the room. “He kept telling me he was worried about me. He thought that something terrible was going to happen to me. When I asked him why, he said it was because of the way I dressed and the way I acted. I didn’t know what he meant so I asked him. He said that I was acting like a whore, a prostitute, that my skirts were too short, my blouses were too low, that I was flirting with the men in the office. He kept insisting that I was asking for trouble.” Her gaze rested on George. She looked as if she were about to cry.
George resisted his urge to reach across the desk and pat her hand. “And what did you make of all this concern on his part?” he asked.
“At first I thought it was sweet, when he told me he was worried about me. He’d only looked at me before—not really talked to me—and I’ve worked there for two years. But when he accused me of dressing like a prostitute, I felt insulted. And then his warnings sounded like threats.”
“Threats?”
“The way he said it. He said I’d pay for acting the way I was acting. It sounded like he was threatening me. I was scared. That’s why I quit. That and because he was stalking me.”
“Stalking you?” Lucas had never mentioned stalking her.
“In the parking lot a couple of times I thought that I saw him walking around near my car. Then when I went to dinner with a girlfriend, I saw him sitting in his car outside the restaurant. He was still there when I came out. And one day when I visited my mother, I saw his car parked near her apartment. Did he tell you that he called my mother and bothered her, too?”
“He told me about that, but I wasn’t aware of the stalking until now. Were there other times?”
“I’m not sure. I became so paranoid that I thought I saw him everywhere, but probably sometimes it was my imagination. But he gave me the creeps. I mean, his wife is missing. He’s supposed to be looking for her, not following me around.” She looked up at him again with wide eyes.
He tried to hold her gaze but he began to feel embarrassed. He glanced away then looked back. “You said that he hadn’t paid you much attention, other than looking at you, prior to when he started giving you these warnings, is that right?”
“Yes…” She sounded hesitant.
“You never gave him any reason to think you might be interested in him?”
She looked shocked. “Of course not. I don’t date a lot, but I don’t have any trouble finding men who are interested in me and I’ve had boyfriends in the past. I wouldn’t be interested in an older married man.”
He felt let down. Did she view him in the same category as she viewed Bonaventure: an uninteresting older man? “When are you actually stopping work?” he asked, attempting to move the conversation toward safer ground.
“At the end of this week.”
“What will you do then?”
She let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I felt like I had to quit, but jobs are scarce out there. I’m afraid to ask Mr. Bonaventure for a letter of reference.”
“Why is that?”
“I think he’s mad that I’m quitting. He still seems as interested in me as he ever was. It’s as if I’ve become his obsession.”
“I can ask him to write you a good letter of recommendation. After all it’s not your fault that you had to quit.” Why had he said that? Was he becoming concerned about Sherry Bennett himself?
She looked at him eagerly. “Would you do that? I’d really appreciate it. You probably have a lot of influence over him, being his doctor and all that.” She looked embarrassed.
“I think it’s the least he can do. Now we’re finished, unless you have any questions. Is there anything I can do to help you?” He realized he was sounding like Lucas Bonaventure. He felt his face reddening.
She didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment. “I don’t have any questions and it’s nice of you to ask, but no, there’s nothing you need to do for me. I’ll get along. I’m just glad that Mr. Bonaventure has someone like you to work with him. It makes me feel safer.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll stop harassing you,” he said, smiling. He knew he had no business reassuring her. He had no idea what Lucas Bonaventure would do in the future.
He saw her to the door. Just before leaving hi
s office she stopped and put out her hand. He had an impulse to put an arm around her. He shook her hand. “Best of luck,” he said.
Chapter 17
“We found both blood and hair on the backseat of Mrs. Bonaventure’s car. The blood’s fairly fresh. I’d say it’s from a couple of weeks ago. Barring some other explanation, I’m guessing that Mrs. Bonaventure was in the back seat of that car.” Jerry Sloan was standing in the doorway to Abe Reynolds’s office. He was holding a report, which he slid across the top of the desk to the detective.
Reynolds rested his hand on the paper but didn’t pick it up. “How about prints?”
“There were some smudges that might have been the gloves on the door handle and on the back of the front seat. It would be hard to prove, but I’m guessing that whoever wore the gloves was waiting in the back seat for the woman and then did something to disable her—probably struck her, given the small amount of blood—and then he laid her down on the seat. The same person drove the car afterward.”
“The blood makes it more likely that she’s dead, but we figured that anyway, because there’s been no ransom demand, and there might have been, since both her husband and her old man are loaded. But this rules out her having parked the car at the airport and taken a flight out of here. Whatever happened to the lady, it wasn’t of her own doing.”
“Call me if you have any questions about the report,” Sloan said. He turned and left the office.
Reynolds wondered what Susan Lin was up to. She’d met with the psychiatrist and she thought she might have convinced him to use some modern methods to diagnose if Lucas Bonaventure was a psychopath, but the detective was skeptical about the usefulness of any of that. You couldn’t arrest someone because you had evidence that he was capable of committing a crime. They needed something to tie the husband to his wife’s activities that night. Or they needed a body.
His telephone rang. It was the front desk. Regina Bonaventure’s father was on the line. He wanted to talk to Detective Reynolds. The detective hesitated, wondering if he should have the receptionist say he wasn’t in, then he picked up the telephone.
“It’s been more than two weeks,” Bertram Knowles said without even a “hello.” His voice was icy over the telephone. This wasn’t the first time Reynolds had talked to the retired billionaire. The detective had called Knowles earlier to ask him to let Abe know if he received any calls demanding a ransom for returning his daughter.
“We’re making some progress, we just haven’t got a prime suspect yet,” Reynolds told him.
“Not a prime suspect? Does that mean you have a suspect?”
The detective had no authority to divulge any of the lab reports to a family member. “We’re checking out the man who was in the bar with her the night she disappeared, but he’s dead so it’s hard to piece things together.”
“Do you think he did it?’
“We have no evidence one way or the other. We’re still looking at anything that might give us a better idea about what happened.” He was careful not to mention the blood on the back seat of Regina Bonaventure’s car.
“What about Lucas, her husband? He’ll profit from her death. She had more money than he did—my money—but it’s in her name. Now it’ll be in his.” Knowles’ voice had risen to a demanding pitch. “Lucas is a hot head. Did you know he beat up one of his neighbors?”
“We’re aware of that.”
“And the cheapskate only put up twenty-five thousand for Regina’s reward. That’s chump-change for him. She would have left him if I hadn’t, like a fool, told her to stick it out. I thought he would be able to take care of her when I was gone. What an idiot I was.”
“We’re still considering suspects, Mr. Knowles. Trust me, we’re leaving no stone unturned.”
“But you haven’t unearthed anything yet. I’m gonna up the ante, detective. I’m putting up a bigger reward: a million dollars for any information that leads you to my daughter’s whereabouts. I’m releasing an announcement to the newspapers and TV today.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
Abe felt his spirits sink. “That’s generous of you sir, but it’s going to flood us with crackpots giving false leads just so they can get their hands on the money. It’ll slow down the investigation. We’re a small department, we haven’t got the staff to handle that many phone calls.”
“I’m hiring someone to screen the calls. A private agency. I’ve been talking to a private detective. He’s gonna start doing some investigating on his own. I told him to call you and find out what you know.”
Abe’s shoulders slumped. This was just what he didn’t need. “I wish you wouldn’t do that Mr. Knowles. It’s just going to interfere with our investigation.”
“How can it? You said yourself that you’re a small department. I’ll tell Ben Murphy, that’s the private detective, to turn over anything he finds to you. It’s like an extra set of hands. I’d think you’d be happy to have someone working full time on the case.”
“I’m working full-time on the case. It’s my top priority.”
“So now you have some help. Anyway, Murphy will contact you. Tell him whatever you’re allowed to tell him. And don’t tell my son-in-law about him. I want Murphy to investigate Lucas too.”
“If your son-in-law is guilty, don’t you think that someone else asking questions is just going to make him more close-mouthed, less likely to give us any useful information?”
“C’mon Reynolds, you’ve had more than two weeks to get whatever you’re going to get from Lucas. If he’s still keeping things from you, then you won’t find them out. Maybe my man will. Anyway, it’s a done deal. I’ve already hired Murphy. And his agency will screen the calls after I announce the reward. He’ll forward anything promising to you.”
Bertram Knowles was used to getting his way. “Do whatever you want, Mr. Knowles. I’ll give Murphy whatever I legally can give him. It won’t be much.”
“Suit yourself,” Knowles said and hung up.
Chapter 18
“What did you think?” Lucas Bonaventure had been early, fidgeting in his chair in the waiting room until it was time for his appointment. Now he was sitting in the same chair where Sherry Bennett had sat, in front of George’s desk, rather than on the analyst’s couch.
“I see you’re sitting today,” George said.
“I’ll go on the couch later. I wanted to hear what you thought of Sherry. Can you tell what’s wrong with her?”
George felt a stab of guilt, talking to Lucas about Sherry, but that was the reason he’d seen the woman. “Nothing’s wrong with her so far as I can see.”
Lucas looked as if he’d been slapped in the face. “What do you mean? You saw how she was dressed. That short skirt, the blouse.”
“Her skirt was moderately short, but not unusually so. Her blouse was buttoned high on the neck.” Why did George feel he had to defend her?
“The shirt was almost obscene it was so short. I saw it.”
“You did? How is that?”
Lucas looked embarrassed but only for a moment. “I watched her come into the building.” He looked up and met the doctor’s gaze. “I wanted to make sure she came to her appointment with you.”
“I didn’t even tell you when the appointment was. And I’m sure that she didn’t either. You must have followed her when she left work. She told me that you’d been following her. Stalking her was the word she used.”
He looked irritated. “I’ve followed her a few times. So what? I was trying to make sure she was all right. I was trying to protect her.”
“You’ve frightened her. She says you threatened her, too”
He looked surprised. “I never threatened he
r. I warned her that she was asking for trouble, that’s all. I was looking out for her, not threatening her.”
“That’s not how she sees it.”
“I get it,” Lucas said, narrowing his eyes. “You fell for her. She seduced you the same way she’s been seducing the men in the office.”
George felt his face reddening. His hands were sweating. “That’s ridiculous. I talked to her as a favor to you. You’re projecting your own emotions onto me, and I think we need to examine that.”
Lucas looked sheepish. “OK, maybe that’s a stupid thing for me to say. But I thought you’d find something wrong with her, something I could help her fix.”
George felt relieved that the focus was back on Lucas. “And if I had, how would you fix it? She doesn’t want anything to do with you. As I said, you’ve frightened her.”
Lucas shook his head in consternation. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Ever since my wife disappeared, I’ve been unable to concentrate on anything. I just think about Sherry and what she’s doing. My business is going to hell. What’s wrong with me?”
“Why don’t you come over to the couch?”
Chapter 19
George didn’t want Sherry Bennett to see him. He felt foolish, like a pervert or a criminal, parked in the parking garage in the building where Lucas Bonaventure’s company was located, waiting for her to leave the building, but his session with Lucas hadn’t convinced him that the man had given up his obsession with his soon-to-be former employee. What made him feel embarrassed, even ashamed, was that he knew that his motivation was his desire that Sherry Bennett remain safe. He was acting no different than his patient, and that frightened him.
He wasn’t sure what he would do once he saw her. Follow her home or wherever she went after work, he guessed, see if he could spot Lucas doing the same thing.