Everybody Wanted Room 623

by Cecil Murphey

  Before I could conjure up a rejoinder, Burton shook his head, and she had reached the door.

  Ollie stopped her and asked for her address and phone number. He said he’d let her know if he learned anything else.

  “Now I need to get back to you,” Ollie said and glared at me. “This morning you were ready to tell me about your sessions with the victim.”

  “You mean my sessions with Stefan Lauber?” Okay, that was evasive and out of line, but I didn’t like him, and I wasn’t going to make it any easier.

  “When we spoke this morning, there was only one victim.” Although his voice hadn’t changed, his fist had knotted and his eyes showed agitation. I decided to push him to see how upset he would become with me. At the same time, I wondered how he ever solved crimes if he was so impatient.

  “Yes, of course,” I said. Just that one question and his impatience was already showing.

  “What do you want to know about our sessions?” I leaned slightly forward. “Do you want his personal history? His romantic secrets? His—”

  He slammed his fist on the table. “Don’t be cute or coy. I don’t give a dead man’s noose about his personal life. Stop being evasive. I want to know why he came to see you.”

  “Just that?”

  “Yes. That’s a simple question, isn’t it?”

  I hesitated, not sure how much to say. Burton leaned close and said softly, “Tell him. This isn’t you and me at Palm Island trying to solve a murder. He’s the professional here.”

  Although I like Burton, a brusque retort formed in my mind. But he was right. I didn’t like the detective, but he was the professional. “Okay, I’ll tell you,” I said. “First, of course, Janet isn’t his sister. I don’t know who she is, but Stefan had no sister.” I hoped he wouldn’t ask me to prove that, but the feeling was so strong, I trusted my intuition.

  “You’re sure about that?” Burton said. “Maybe we need to stop her.”

  Ollie leaned back in his chair. “Very good, Julie, but I already knew that. Stefan was an only child until his parents adopted Lucas, who was five or six years older.”

  “You knew that?” I was surprised.

  “Yes. I also know the reason for the adoption. The parents felt Stefan had gotten unruly and that an older brother was what he needed.” He met my gaze. “Is that correct?”

  “For a man who has no direct interest in this case,” I said, “you certainly know a great deal.”

  “Computers. Everything’s on computers these days,” he said.

  “I didn’t know about the adoption, although I knew the brothers didn’t get along. That was one of the issues Stefan talked about. After they were both grown, he cheated Lucas out of a large sum of money—”

  “About a hundred grand,” the detective said.

  “If you know all this—”

  “So far you haven’t told me anything new, but you will.” He poured himself a glass of water and gulped it down in one long swallow. “I’m still listening. A little impatiently, but I am listening.”

  “Did you get all that information from computers?” I asked. “Wow, what’s the URL?”

  “Julie.” Burton spoke my name softly, but I knew he wanted me to back off.

  “I’m not giving information now. I’m receiving it.”

  “Okay, then what about that woman—Janet Grand?” I asked.

  “I know who she is. She was one of those—how did she say it?—intimate people with Stefan. Somehow she found out about the murder and knew about the diamonds.”

  “Really?” Burton asked.

  “She tried to book the room by phone this morning—about an hour before she showed up.” He smiled as if to say, “See, I’m ahead of you on his case.”

  Even though Stefan was dead, I didn’t feel comfortable telling the detective anything. My intuition said he wasn’t a man I could trust. Or maybe that was only my prejudice. Maybe I just didn’t like him as a person—which I didn’t—and that may have distorted my reasoning. Besides, he was so different from his college classmate, and I had as low an opinion of him as I had a high one of Burton.

  “I didn’t know about any religious experience he may have had,” I said. “Or his conversion, as Jason Omore called it. That’s not an area we talked about. However, I knew something had happened—something that changed him. When he first came to me, he told me, quite up front, that he had a number of unresolved issues in his life and said he wanted to change.” I paused, shrugged to imitate Ollie, and plunged on. “Actually, he said it even stronger. He said he was determined to change.”

  Ollie threw more questions at me. Each time, he wrote something in his little book and must have flipped six or seven pages. I wondered if they had to buy those things themselves. They must use a lot of them.

  I asked Ollie to give me a couple of minutes to review my professional relationship with Stefan. I didn’t need that reflection time, but I wanted to see if he’d push me to hurry.

  He said nothing, but it was obvious he didn’t like the silence. While I reflected, his fingers drummed on the table.

  “I saw him a total of six times,” I said.

  “Yeah, okay,” Ollie said.

  I got up, walked to the far side of the room, stalling for time, unsure of how much I wanted to tell him.

  “Any day now,” Ollie said.

  “Yes, there were six sessions. The first time, a Monday afternoon, not much went on, mostly his giving me information about himself. He did speak of significant issues in his life and said he was trying to figure out the right thing to do.

  “He refused to say more except that he wanted to be sure he could trust me before he went into details. We set a second appointment for Thursday of the same week. Ordinarily I don’t do two appointments in the same week, but he had insisted, and I felt he was nearing a crisis stage about something. I agreed.”

  I lapsed into silence again, wanting to think about how much to say. By the middle of the second session, he had begun to trust me. I can always tell when that happens. It’s not just the way the clients talk, but their bodies relax and their voices grow softer. At the first session, Stefan had sat tall, straight, and stiff. During the second session, he relaxed, and for the second half of his appointment time, he sat in my office with legs wide apart and arms stretched across the back of the couch.

  I decided to omit whatever I didn’t want to tell Ollie. I walked back to my chair and said, “Okay, I have it sorted out.”

  “At last,” Ollie muttered.

  I ignored that. “Okay, what you need to know is that Stefan cheated several people,” I said. “His brother was only the first. That was some kind of obscure business deal. Stefan didn’t go into detail, other than to say he did it and his brother found out—and he wasn’t supposed to know. When Lucas heard, he vowed to kill Stefan.”

  “Hmm. Really?” Ollie said and scribbled hurriedly on the pad.

  “That happened long ago, you see, and I don’t know if—”

  “Some family feuds can last a long time,” he said. “Go on.”

  “Stefan never mentioned the diamond robbery, but he hinted. I mean, in retrospect, it seems to fit. Several times he referred to himself as the big kahuna—”

  “The big guy, the top dog,” Ollie said. “It’s a Hawaiian term—”

  “So you also saw all those dumb beach movies,” I said.

  Ollie blushed. He actually blushed when I said that. I liked him a little for that unconscious act—not a lot better, but somewhat.

  “Yes, any number of times he said that he had become the big kahuna with a brilliant idea that had gone wrong. Now I can see that’s what he meant. He said he had been involved in something illegal and dangerous and people got hurt—something for which he had never planned.”

  “That was as specific as he got?”

  “Pretty much,” I said.

  “And?” Ollie prompted.

  “During our third or fourth session, he asked pointedly because he wante
d to be certain: ‘Please assure me that, no matter what I tell you in these sessions, you cannot be compelled to testify against me in court.’ I told him not only that it was true, but that he already knew that.”

  “How did he answer?” Burton asked.

  “He said he needed to know for his own peace of mind.”

  “So I guess he didn’t trust you,” Ollie said. “Is that it?”

  I stared at him for a moment and then closed my eyes and rethought that session. “No, I don’t think so. In fact, I think it was an odd, perhaps subtle way of affirming that he felt he could trust me.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it to me.”

  “That’s why I’m the professional.” I said the words quietly, but from the corner of my eye I saw Burton’s head shake slightly. Who appointed Burton to be my conscience? Okay, maybe I did, and he was right.

  “Okay, sorry for that,” I said. “He admitted that it was for his own peace of mind. This may not make sense to you, Detective, but in my professional assessment, Stefan wanted me to say out loud that anything and everything he said in our sessions was privileged communication. It was almost as if he did that for the benefit of anyone who might be listening. And, of course, I never tape such sessions. But then, perhaps, his having been in prison—”

  “Perhaps he taped you,” Burton said.

  “If he did, I never saw a recorder anywhere,” I said. “But that thought went through my mind at the time. However, it didn’t matter. If he had asked, I would have allowed him to tape any sessions—”

  “Okay, let’s move on, please,” Ollie said. “Tomorrow will be here before you tell me anything significant.”

  I gave what I assumed was a warm and apologetic smile before I said, “Stefan told me he wanted to make full restitution for his crimes. Those were his exact words: full restitution for his crimes.”

  “Did he say what his crimes were?” Ollie leaned forward as he asked.

  I ignored his question. I had decided to tell him, but it would be in my own way. “Stefan didn’t look like the kind of person I would consider a criminal.” I laughed at myself. “Okay, he was, but he didn’t act like one. He had none of the signs.” I turned to Burton for help.

  He nodded slowly before he said, “I understand, and I think Ollie does too.”

  “Okay, he didn’t give off any bad vibes. He was a genteel, reformed criminal,” Ollie said.

  “And if he had changed,” Burton said, “if he had become born again, surely that would have made him behave differently.”

  “Yes, I suppose it would,” I said and knew my words didn’t sound very convincing, because I wasn’t sure his conversion—or whatever he had experienced—was relevant. I had met a number of the born-again types and—okay, I don’t want to digress and go on that diatribe. “I can say that he seemed to be genuinely honest and a man who was determined to grow.” I leaned forward to match Ollie’s posture. I also wanted him to know the sincerity of my client—my former client. “He listened to everything I said. He probed within his own heart. At times it was painful, but he faced things about himself—his personal values and attitudes. He was definitely committed to change.”

  “Change in what way?” Ollie said. “To make restitution sounds good, but you still haven’t told me anything new.”

  “He mentioned the names of several people he had hurt. They’re names I know now. He referred to Deedra—by first name only—and someone named Willie, and his brother, Lucas. There was also another woman, but he never mentioned her name. His struggle, so far as I could figure out, was how he could right the wrongs he had done with his business associates—again, that was his terminology—through his illegal actions and yet make things right so that he could live with himself.”

  “And you believed him?” Burton asked. “You believed he spoke the truth?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “I’ve been at this profession too long to have been taken in.”

  Ollie snorted, and I gave him my most intense glare.

  “Okay, okay, you believed him,” Ollie said. “And?”

  “Stefan felt that if he made things right with the people he had hurt and gave them what they insisted they deserved, it would be an immoral act. If he didn’t make things right with them, he felt it would not be ethical for him.” I paused and thought back to his words. “He may have used the word God once or twice. People often do, but they don’t usually mean divine power or anything like that.”

  “Do you think he meant God?” Burton asked.

  “Not at the time I didn’t,” I said. “But after our conversation today with Jason, I think he probably did.”

  “Okay, okay,” Ollie said. “I don’t care. You’re holding back on me, aren’t you?”

  “Okay, it’s like this. Stefan wanted to make everybody happy, and he knew he couldn’t do that,” I said.

  “How could he make everyone happy?” The detective looked at me. “What was he trying to do? Become some kind of saint?”

  “I don’t know. I can only tell you what he told me—”

  “As well as a few of your insights,” Burton said.

  “That too. Stefan continually asked himself one question—”

  “What question?” Ollie asked.

  Ollie was impatient. I paused, stared at him, and finally said, “Please. You asked me to tell you what I know, so don’t constantly interrupt.”

  “Yeah, okay, but just get on with it.”

  “Stefan had several things to resolve, but what troubled him the most was the one question he would ask aloud. By asking, he didn’t mean he wanted me to give him the answer—”

  “Then why did he ask?” Ollie interjected. Aware of what he had done, he looked away.

  “Some people need to talk aloud. They need to say the words to another person before they know what they think. Make sense?” I got a slight nod from Burton and a blank stare from Ollie. “Here’s the way I say it, I only know of myself what I say of myself. That means I don’t really know how I feel about something until I say it to someone else.”

  “Yeah? What good does that do?” the questioner interrupted yet again.

  “Two things take place,” I said. I decided to act gracious and ignore his impatience. “First, and in this case, Stefan was able to put his emotions into words. In our field we say that when a person like Stefan feels safe—feels understood and trusts the therapist—he’ll speak from his heart. Things come up that he might not otherwise say.”

  “Okay, I get that. So what’s the second?”

  This detective would provide a great venture for a team of therapists. Besides his impatience, I sensed his high level of anxiety. “Are you always so intense and so . . . anxiety-ridden as you are now?” I asked him.

  He opened his mouth, and I think he was going to swear at me, but he glared at Burton and said, “Look. This isn’t about me, and I didn’t hire you to be my personal shrink, okay? Just tell me about Lauber. You may be a good therapist, but it sure takes you a long time to get to the point!” His voice had raised in pitch, and he stood up. He mumbled something about being sorry but he was eager to solve the case.

  “Eager or anxious?” I asked.

  Ollie stared blankly.

  “Okay, I’ll let that go,” I said. I actually enjoyed watching his responses. He might be a hunk, but his wires were so tight they were ready to snap. “Stefan sat in front of me, often leaning forward, his head down, and he would say, ‘What is the right thing to do?’ He didn’t ask that just once, but repeatedly, ‘What is the right thing to do?’ ”

  “The right thing about what?” Ollie asked.

  “He didn’t say. As a therapist, I didn’t feel I needed to probe for that. He knew. That’s what counted.” I scooted forward until our heads were only about three feet apart. “You question people all the time, don’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “But you do it to elicit information. Correct?”

  “What else?”

  I held up my h
and. “That’s not how a therapist works.” I turned to Burton for help, not because I couldn’t express myself, but because I sensed Ollie would listen to his old friend.

  “I think she’s trying to say that she wasn’t probing. There is a time to probe—a time when a therapist asks the questions that open people up and enable them to get in touch with their deeper selves—their inner child or their—”

  “Okay, okay, I think I get it.”

  “I’m not sure you do,” I said. “He had already begun to open up. I sensed the trust level was high. Once that happened, my role was to allow him to work out the problems by himself. Instead of trying to hand him answers—”

  “More psychobabble!”

  “Not really,” Burton said. He gently laid his hand on Ollie’s shoulder. “She’s trying to explain how this works. She’s saying that Stefan had to resolve the problem himself. Her role was to remain objective, to be open to listening, and to encourage him so that he kept moving forward.”

  “Very good,” I said. I wanted to hug Burton for that. But then, I wanted to hug him for a variety of reasons.

  “Okay, I get it,” Ollie said. “I ask to get information. You ask to get a person to look inward. I understand, and now I’ve passed Psych 101. Now, Dr. West, what else can you tell me?” He spoke softly, but the words were uttered as if he were ready to sock my jaw.

  “He said nothing directly about the robber or the diamonds; however, from what I’ve heard since I’ve been here, I think he wanted to return the diamonds to their rightful owners.”

  “That’s a consortium based here in Atlanta,” Ollie said. “I’m sure that long ago, however, the insurance paid for the loss, so I don’t know how that works. That’s not the issue anyway.”

  “The issue was his dilemma of trying to figure out the right action,” I said, “and how to do that so he hurt the fewest number of people.”

  “But he had the diamonds. Right?”

  “How should I know?” I asked, but I added, “Yeah, probably.”

  Ollie’s cell phone buzzed again. He held up his hand for me to wait, which was quite unnecessary. I didn’t want to say anything more, and I did want to hear what he had to say on the phone.