“Rumor tells me that you’ve had your run-ins with nurses, physicians, and the chaplain,” said Kevin.
“I live for a good argument, gentlemen. A good argument keeps you on your feet and encourages a sharp mind, but for the most part these are intellectual sport...hardly the kind of thing that leads to murder.”
Ira looked at his notes. “We heard that things between you and the chaplain were getting hot and heavy.”
“Hot and heavy describes Lola and me.” Jacob smiled. “My hostility toward the chaplain is mostly philosophical, but...”
“What is it?” asked Kevin.
“I have my concerns about the chaplain, but I don’t think it has anything to do with what’s happening at Brier. I really can’t talk about it...it involves confidences that aren’t mine to break.”
“Jacob, if you have anything, you must tell us,” said Kevin.
“If I were in your position, Kevin, I’d take a trip through the Chaplain’s past, and a good look at what he’s doing with his TeenTalk group.”
The clock read four in the afternoon when Thomas Wells wheeled his cart to the nurses’ station and grabbed a handful of lab slips from the outbox labeled, Laboratory.
Mary Oakes smiled at Tommy. “Looks like they’re keeping you busy. I see you everywhere.”
“The whole system would collapse if I called in sick. Getting around is a little more difficult, but by now all the security guards know me.” He hesitated a moment then leaned over to Mary. “Not too subtle, these ‘new people’ we’re seeing throughout the hospital.”
“Brier can’t do much about it once they’ve acknowledged the risk. If they reduce security and someone else is injured or worse, the consequences for the hospital will be devastating.”
When Tommy left work, he felt the door closing on this chapter of his life. He longed to be nameless and faceless as he checked the streets in front of his apartment and glanced into his rear view mirror as he searched for a parking space.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
When Jacob arrived home, Lola was asleep on the couch. He added water to the coffee maker and made a fresh pot of decaf Columbia Supremo.
Lola sat up and stretched. “That smells great. You can bring an old lady a cup.”
Jacob carried both cups to the coffee table and sat beside Lola.
“How did it go with the police?”
“They really laid it out this time, and I can’t disagree with their conclusion that these killings are aimed at me.”
“It makes sense. We were too close to see it but when you look back at the cases, I don’t see any other conclusion.”
“It’s not like we haven’t experienced more than our share of evil, Lola, but here it’s hidden. I don’t know who or why.”
“I don’t know why either, but I’ll bet that when they find the killer, his motives will be related to you in the most tangential way.”
“You’re assuming it’s a man.”
“It’s almost always a white male, but women are on the march and account for 16 percent of serial killers. I don’t want to sound sexist, but these killings feel like the kind of thing that comes from a man.”
“Well, they’re looking at anyone who might have it in for me but I’m finding it difficult to accept that premise.”
“Talking about someone who isn’t one of your biggest fans, tell me what you discovered about Carleton Dix.”
“You remember Terrence Wilcox?”
“Of course. He’s in the Midwest somewhere.”
“South Dakota, Sioux Falls to be exact.”
After Jacob finished paraphrasing Terrence’s findings, Lola stood in anger. “My God, Jacob, the chaplain is a child molester, a regressed type of pedophile. Technically, it’s ephebophilia but that’s a mouthful and I’ll stick with more common term, pedophilia. That explains a lot, maybe more than you think. Sarah Hughes’s instincts were right, and Kelly Cowan...?”
“I never liked the guy. Now I know why.”
“It all fits. He fulfills the typical profile: a man over twenty-five and never married; he lives alone; and he has an excessive interest in children, in this case young girls. I’ll bet you’ll find that he rarely dates and has few friends...it all fits.”
“Does he fit as a serial killer?”
“I’ve been around for a while and I’ve learned in practice that the only thing certain about human behavior is its uncertainty. Can a pedophile become violent? I don’t doubt it, but I’d expect it only under two circumstances: First, if the person has a mixed diagnosis like an Antisocial Personality Disorder, or second, if he reacts with aggression to the threat of exposure.”
“What should we do?”
“As a professional, I have an absolute obligation to report this to Child Protective Services. That’s the easy part. The hard part will be helping his victims, especially Kelly Cowan.”
The next morning, when Lola came to see Kelly, she was asleep in bed. The nurses reported that she’d been up only once, to use the bathroom.
“I’m going to get a cup of coffee,” said Lola. “Wake Kelly, get her breakfast, and I’ll be back in an hour.”
Lola spent the time in the medical staff library, reviewing several recent psychoanalytical review articles on pedophilia. When she returned to the ward, Kelly stood looking out the window. She smiled when Lola came and sat beside her.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
“I’m feeling great. I can’t remember sleeping that long.”
“I think you were physically and emotionally exhausted. Can we talk...are you up to it?”
“Of course, but first I’d like to apologize for my behavior. I should have handled it myself...my dad is big on self-help.”
Lola rose, walked to the door of the room and closed it. Kelly coughed several times and began twisting a lock of her hair.
Lola recognized Kelly’s anxiety. “It’s okay. I’m here to help, and I assure you that you can’t tell me something I haven’t heard many times before.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I know all about Carleton Dix.”
“Know what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please, let me help you. You did nothing wrong. It’s not your fault.”
Kelly turned her face away from the window, lowered her head and cried.
Lola placed her arm around Kelly’s shoulder. “He’s a sick man. He used you for his own satisfaction. You were vulnerable and he took advantage.”
Kelly tuned to face Lola. Tears streaked down her face. “You don’t know. You just don’t know...”
“I know about him, and I know about you. Let me help.”
“I’m in love with him. He’s everything to me. He loves me, too. We’re going to be together.”
“No Kelly, he doesn’t love you. He used you. I think you know that by now. You weren’t the first, not by a long shot, but by God, if I have anything to do with it, you’ll be the last.”
Kelly lowered her face into Lola’s lap and sobbed. After she cried herself out, she looked up at Lola. “There’s more...much more...I’m so ashamed...”
“Let go of it, Kelly. I mean all of it.”
“I just wanted to protect him.”
“Protect him?”
“He was upset...under too much stress. I just wanted it to stop.”
“Kelly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The bloody doll...the phone calls...the emails...it was me. I did it to protect him. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but I did...I hurt Sarah. How can anyone ever forgive me?”
Lola gasped in shock. Surprising her wasn’t easy. Lola took a deep breath. “What you did was cruel, heartless, and let’s face it, evil. I don’t think you really knew what you were doing, but you did it, and you need to take responsibility. That’s the first step in getting you well.”
“Please, Lola...I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“Stop it, Kelly. Think about others he’s injured. Think of the next girl that he’s going to use and discard. Who’s going to protect her, if we don’t?”
Kelly looked up at the ceiling, tears continuing to flow.
Lola faced the girl. “Do you think you were the only one?”
“What are you talking about?”
“My experience and what I know about the chaplain, shouts for all to hear that he’s been involved with others, many others.”
Kelly crept back into bed, placed her head under the pillow, and shook with tears.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Lola shook her head in surprise when Zoe called Monday night. “Can I come and talk with you?”
“Of course. Do you want to come here or meet me in the office?”
“Your office is better. I hate the thought of bringing my problems into Jacob’s home.”
Tuesday morning, and the streets were packed with students on their way to the UC campus. The Berkeley Woman’s Health Clinic on Channing Way had its own parking. Thank God, Zoe thought as the guard showed her to an empty parking space.
Zoe wore jeans, a silk blouse, and her favorite pink Arista sunglasses. When she walked into Lola’s office, she placed the glasses into a hard case, then in her purse. They shook hands and as Lola looked up to meet the eyes of the much taller woman, Zoe looked away.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here. Jacob said you might help us...I find it difficult to reject anything he suggests.”
“I’ll tell you right from the start that it’s part of Jacob’s character to help. He can’t be passive, but if you feel coerced, it’s coming from within you.”
“I just hate to disappoint him.”
“How can I help you?”
“You can’t.”
Lola stood. “Well, that was quick. You have a nice day.”
Zoe remained seated.
Lola returned to her chair, leaned back and relaxed her short legs. She knew that silence, an old ally for an experienced therapist, was oppressive to most patients. Lola watched Zoe shift in her chair, cross and uncross her long legs, and avoided eye contact.
“ I know what’s going on, Lola. I did a psychiatry rotation, you know.”
“What do you think is going on?”
“Do you want the encyclopedic version of my life, or will the Cliff Notes do?”
“You have a strange idea of what I’m about. Have you ever seen a psychiatrist before?”
“Of course. Who hasn’t?”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Most of them meant well, but how can you play the violin when you’re tone deaf?”
“You mean your therapists were hard of hearing?” Lola tried to lighten the atmosphere.
“Deaf and dumb, too,” came through clenched jaws.
“You don’t think much of psychiatry?”
“Who does?”
“Jung said: ‘Show me a sane man, and I will cure him for you.’” Lola looked for a reaction. Not even a grin.
“Why so angry, Zoe?”
“You’ve had a great life, Lola. Professional and personal achievements...more than anyone expects in this corrupt world.”
“What was the sentinel event of your childhood?”
“Here it comes. Like the income tax man, sooner or later, the shrink appears.” She hesitated, “Should I start in utero?”
“You’re wasting both our times, Zoe. I have no hidden agenda. I have few illusions about psychiatry, but if I’m going to help you, I can’t work in a vacuum. You must give me something.”
Zoe looked up and to the left, searching her memories. “I really don’t remember much from my childhood.”
Lola sat in silence waiting for her to continue.
After five minutes of silence, Zoe stood and stared at Lola. “You’re right. This is a total waste of our times.”
When the clock approached three that same afternoon, Brier’s halls were busy as the staff prepared for the p.m. shift. The white coated figure stood at Abby Cantor’s bedside, grabbed the IV line, and prepared to inject the syringe filled with cranberry-colored fluid. Abby looked up and smiled.
The door burst open and a deep voice said, “Freeze...freeze,” then pulled the syringe away violently as a line of red fluid sprayed across the white sheet.
“Did she get any?” said a female voice.
“I don’t think so,” said the uniformed officer who turned the white coated figure around slapping on the cuffs in one fluid movement.
Zoe Spelling struggled against the cuffs. “Get these off me now or you’ll pay for this travesty.”
Shelly Kahn stared at the officer then at Zoe, uncertain about what to say or do.
Shelly held up the red fluid-filled syringe. “What is this?”
“Get these damned cuffs off me.”
“Not until you answer my questions, Doctor.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“What’s in this syringe?”
Zoe reddened and through clenched teeth. “I’d like to speak with my attorney.”
An hour later, at Police Headquarters in downtown Berkeley, Ira Green pointed his especially long, bent-at-its-tip index finger, at Shelly Kahn. “What in hell did you do?”
“Wait a minute, Chief...”
“No, you wait, Shelly. Without cause, you cuffed and arrested Dr. Spelling, one of Brier’s most respected physicians.”
“Now hear me out, Ira,” cried Shelly. “You know what it’s like at Brier. Everyone waiting for the next murder. We didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit, Shelly. Have you forgotten everything we taught you about procedure?”
“One of our officers saw her draw up the red fluid and proceed to Mrs. Cantor’s room. We had to act right away before it was too late.”
“Too late? I love police heroics, Shelly. You saved Mrs. Cantor from the ravages of a vitamin B-12 injection.”
“Vitamin B-12?”
“Vitamin B-12. Dr. Spelling gives Mrs. Cantor a shot of B-12 each week.”
Shelly blushed, shrinking into a corner of the chair before Ira’s desk. “Why didn’t she tell us?”
“Maybe she didn’t like being manhandled and cuffed in front of her own patient.”
Ira looked toward his open door and saw Zoe, and a well-dressed man, her attorney, approaching.
The chief grabbed Shelly by the arm, pulling her into a standing position and whispered, “Apologize, damn it...apologize.”
Shelly turned to Zoe. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Spelling...”
Zoe held her hand in the classical stop gesture. She leaned through the door and smiled. “Meet my attorney, Harwood Harrington, you’ll be hearing from him soon. This fiasco is going to cost Brier Hospital and the Berkeley P.D. a bundle.”
Chapter Sixty
Carleton Dix walked up to the psych ward nursing station. “I would like to see Kelly Cowan.”
“I’m sorry, chaplain, but we’re under strict orders: No visitors.”
“But, I’ve counseled her. I can help.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Dr. Weizman’s orders.”
Lola watched the encounter from the dictation room across the hall. She rose, opened the door. “Why don’t you join me, chaplain.”
As Carleton walked across the hall, Lola turned to the ward clerk and whispered, “Get hospital security. Keep them out of view, but get them here, just in case.”
“Will you be okay, Doctor?”
“I’ll be fine.”
When Carleton Dix entered the tiny room, he slumped into the chair across from Lola, keeping his eyes down.
“Chutzpah...Chutzpah, that’s what you have, Reverend. Haven’t you done enough?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What has she told you?”
“Enough.”
“She’s a very disturbed young woman. You’re an experienced psychotherapist, how can you believe anything she says?”
“My experience allows me to recognize
the truth. If your acts weren’t despicable enough, I’d laugh at your pathetic protestations.”
“She’s completely confused about my intentions. I just wanted to help the girl.”
“Like you helped the girls in Rapid City?”
His eyes widened. “That was a complete misunderstanding.”
“Very creative, chaplain. That might work, except we’ve seen the records. We know what you’ve done and what you’re capable of doing. How can you live with yourself?”
“I...” He stood with clenched fists.
As Lola looked through the window for help, she saw the ward clerk talking with two security guards. When they walked toward the door, she raised her hand in the stop gesture.
Lola returned her gaze to the chaplain. “If you’re a psychopath, you’re also the world’s greatest actor.”
No Cure for Murder Page 25