Helene sighed. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. The man’s name is Dobbs. Dr. Carl Dobbs. Philip checked up on him when it seemed he was making no progress in finding the cause of her headaches. He’s a neurologist, board certified. Top schools, too. Philip wanted to meet him, but Lisa wouldn’t hear of it. She wanted to handle things herself.” This last was said with some distaste.
“When Lisa called to cancel dinner did she say anything about who the friend was or what kind of help was needed?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“But she did say that it was someone from this pain group?”
Helene hesitated. “I can’t remember her exact words, but that was the impression I got.”
It would have been helpful to know what Lisa had said. If she hadn’t actually made reference to the nonexistent support group, what had led Helene to believe the caller was part of it?
I put that thought aside for the moment when another struck me. “How did your brother feel about Lisa’s canceling dinner? Was he upset or worried?”
“Philip doesn’t allow himself to become upset over little things.” Helene’s intonation was that of a devoted follower.
“Did he change his plans for the evening?”
“As I recall, he worked.”
“Worked?”
“Yes. After dinner he came back here to the office to finish up a few things.”
“Was anyone else there?”
“On a Friday evening? I doubt it.”
“Do you happen to remember what time he got home?”
“No,” she said frostily, “I was already in bed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She hung up with an abrupt click.
I found Dr. Carl Dobbs listed in the phone book and called his office. “All I need is about ten minutes,” I explained to the receptionist.
“I can fit you in next Thursday at two-fifteen.”
“I really need to talk to him today.”
“I’m afraid I can’t—”
“Please. It’s important. It involves the death of one of his patients.” I didn’t bother to explain that the death had occurred some time ago and had nothing to do with the physical condition he’d been treating.
“Just a moment, please.” She put me on hold, where I listened to several bars of “Rhapsody in Blue” before she came back on the line. “We did have a cancelation at eleven. Can you get here by then?”
I checked my watch. Dr. Dobbs’s office was located in the new medical complex just outside of town. Fifteen minutes even with traffic. “I’ll be there,” I said.
<><><>
Like most foothill towns, Silver Creek was a mix of old and new. The original town center still bustled with activity, and the older residential neighborhoods, renewed and refurbished, were much in demand. But it was the outskirts of town where you could see the signs of growth most clearly. Shopping centers and fast-food outlets had sprung up in pastures where cows had grazed during my childhood. Showy houses, and not so showy housing tracts, were now carved into the gently rolling hills.
The Highland Medical Center was among the new additions. It was an open, zigzagging structure landscaped with shade trees, low-growing shrubs and beds of brightly colored flowers. There were benches for the weary and waiting and, off to the side, a small courtyard of picnic tables.
Dr. Dobbs’s waiting room was empty when I arrived. Nonetheless I sat for more than half an hour, leafing through dog-eared copies of Good Housekeeping and Business Week, before the nurse called me into his office. And then I waited another ten minutes for the doctor himself to appear. When he did, I explained that I was there about Lisa Cornell.
“I’m not asking you to betray patient confidences,” I said, “but it would be helpful if you could tell me about her headaches and why you referred her to Dr. Markley.”
Dr. Dobbs pressed his fingertips together and scrunched his brows in thought. He was probably in his late thirties, but he had a thin, serious face and owlish glasses that made him appear somber beyond his years. “I read about what happened to Lisa and her daughter. Such a senseless loss of life.”
“And now Dr. Markley is dead, too. Have you heard?”
He looked surprised. “How?”
I told him what I’d heard on the radio. “Did you know her well?”
“Not personally. But I’ve referred patients to her over the years, run into her at professional gatherings, that sort of thing.” He raked a hand through his closely cropped hair. “In fact, I saw her just last week. My God, and now she’s dead. Something like this brings you up short, doesn’t it?”
He reached for the intercom and asked the nurse for Lisa Cornell’s file. Then he rocked back in his chair and addressed me. “Lisa had recurring headaches most of her life, but they were never debilitating. This last year they increased in both frequency and intensity. We did a blood workup, ran a CAT scan, tested for allergies. All negative.”
The nurse brought the chart. Dr. Dobbs opened it and spent a few moments reviewing his notes before looking up again. “We tried changing her diet, her sleeping patterns, the soap she used. None of it had any impact. Once she even had an attack here in the office. We ran some tests right then, traced her activities and the food she’d eaten prior to coming to see me. Nothing showed up with any consistency.”
“So you referred her to Dr. Markley.”
“Not to Dr. Markley specifically, but I suggested she see a therapist. It’s not uncommon for headaches to be brought on by stress or emotional upheaval. I’m not saying that was necessarily true in Lisa’s case, but I’d tried everything I could. Unfortunately, there are some conditions that medical science simply cannot treat successfully.”
“Do you have any idea what kind of stress she might have been under?”
“That’s not my area of expertise, although we did talk about it in general terms.” He checked his notes again. “From what I was able to pick up, her life seemed to be going well. She was thrilled to be living in Silver Creek, in a house of her own. She loved to garden — I remember that because we tested for a reaction to plant sprays and so forth. I believe she was engaged, or at least seeing somebody on a regular basis. I gather things had been rough for her in the past, but she’d moved to town hoping to make a new start. She wanted a good life for her little girl.”
“Do you know how, or why, Lisa chose Dr. Markley?”
He shook his head. “I imagine Donna’s being a woman might have had something to do with it. People often seek out a therapist of the same gender. I gave Lisa a couple of names. I’m sure Donna’s was among them.”
“Because of Dr. Markley’s work with repressed memory of childhood trauma?”
He made a dismissive motion with his hands. “I refer patients to doctors I trust. Their specialties have very little to do with it.”
“Did she ever report back to you about her work with Lisa?”
Dr. Dobbs chewed on his lower lip while he thought. “Not formally. About a month ago we had one of those brief conversations in the elevator. As I recall, she said that she was finding Lisa Cornell a most interesting patient. From that I inferred they were working well together. There was nothing specific said.”
I’d seen the doctor glance at his watch twice during our last exchange. I took the hint, thanked him for his time and left.
On my way out I ran into Jake Harding in the building lobby. He was walking with another man but waved his companion on when he saw me.
“I’ve been thinking about calling you,” he said pleasantly. “But I didn’t want to seem pushy.”
“I wouldn’t consider a call pushy. What was it you wanted?”
“Mostly I just wanted to hear your thoughts on the case. On Wes’s chances. This whole business is so damn frustrating for me. I feel like there’s got to be something more I can do.”
“You’re doing a lot as it is.” Support, whether moral or financial, wasn’t easy to come by, and Jake was offering Wes both.
Ano
ther man exited from an office down the hall and nodded at Jake as he passed.
“Is your office in this building?” I asked.
“Second floor at the end. I moved here when the center was first built, about seven years ago. It’s been wonderful having a lab right here on the premises. With so many doctors in one place we’re able to pool resources and share equipment. Everybody benefits, including,” he added with a smile, “the patients.”
As much as I hated to see the rolling hills and giant oaks losing out to urban sprawl, I found the nearby presence of a modern medical facility reassuring.
“I was just heading out to grab a bite to eat,” Jake said. “Would you like to join me?”
“Sure.”
“It won’t be fancy. I thought I’d pick up a sandwich at the deli and sit outside. Sometimes the lunch hour is my only chance for a breath of air.” We stepped through the double door and outside into the afternoon sunshine. “Air-conditioning may be a wonderful invention, but it will never replace the lovely feeling of a fresh breeze.”
I murmured agreement. I was most appreciative of the fact that my own office windows cranked open. They hadn’t at Goldman & Latham.
We made our way across the parking lot to the adjacent deli. Jake ordered a roast beef sandwich on a croissant, a side order of macaroni salad and a bag of barbecue chips. It’s funny how so many doctors eat as if they’ve never read a nutrition article in their lives. I had a turkey on rye. Straight, no mayo.
“Sam tells me you went out to see Wes the other day,” Jake said.
We’d found a bench in the shade and unwrapped our sandwiches. I was chewing by then so I could only nod.
“I try to get by there as often as I can. Of course, they’re stricter about letting families visit than attorneys.” His gaze drifted across the lawn. “Visiting Wes in jail is painful for me. His mother can’t handle it at all. She’s been out there only once.”
“He knows his family’s behind him, though. That’s important.”
“I’m afraid it may not be enough.” Jake’s tone was gloomy. He offered me a potato chip, then crumbled another and tossed it to the birds. “How did Wes seem?”
That was a tough one. He’d been nasty and arrogant but clearly scared. And for all his bravado I had the feeling that what scared him as much as anything was being seen as vulnerable.
“I think he’s ready to cooperate with us,” I said finally.
“Good. I could never understand why he was being so difficult.”
“I think it was a front. Wes is big on keeping people at arm’s length, isn’t he?”
Jake nodded. “Has been ever since he was a kid. He wants to make sure everyone knows how tough he is.”
I thought back to the young man I’d known in high school. How much of the image had been mere bluster? And how much pain had it concealed?
“Forgive me if I’m out of line,” Jake said, “but were you here for a medical appointment, or was it something to do with the case?”
I told him about my conversation with Dr. Dobbs. I assumed, correctly as it turned out, that Sam had kept Jake informed about our progress. “I was hoping Dr. Dobbs could give me some information about Lisa Cornell’s treatment with Dr. Markley. I don’t know whether you heard, but she died recently in an auto accident.”
Jake nodded and his expression darkened. “It was on the radio this morning.”
“You knew her?”
“Not well, but our paths seemed to cross rather frequently.”
“I only met her once,” I said, “but I liked her. She managed to instill confidence while still coming across as very down to earth.”
Jake nodded again. “I didn’t always agree with her methods, and I’ve got mixed feelings about psychiatry in general, but Donna Markley herself was a delightful person.”
“I understand she used hypnosis.”
“It’s an approach that seems to be rather popular these day.”
“Does it work?”
“It can. An awful lot depends on the individual situation.”
I wanted to know more. “Is it true that under hypnosis a person might remember something she’d repressed? Something from the past she had no present memory of at all?”
His smile was amused.”That also seems to be a popular avenue of exploration.”
“Is that what Dr. Markley did?”
“She’d done a bit of work in that area.” Jake frowned, clearly uncomfortable talking about another doctor’s work. “Of course, that was only a small part of her practice. I’m sure she used a more conventional approach with most of her patients.”
I picked up on Jake’s uneasiness. “You don’t think recovered memory is valid?”
“On the whole, no. There are too many variables. A movie, a book, a childhood dream — even a suggestion by the therapist, however well-intentioned — these things can blend with truth and become fixed as a real memory. Of course, I don’t pretend to be an expert on the matter.” He checked his watch and stood. “This has been very pleasant, but I’m afraid I need to get back to work.”
I rose and walked with him back toward the parking lot. “Would a repressed memory of a childhood trauma manifest itself in headaches?”
He appeared thoughtful. “It might. But you have to remember, there are literally hundreds of things that can cause headaches.”
“I wish I knew whether Lisa’s were connected in some way to her death.”
Jake touched my shoulder lightly in a fatherly gesture of goodwill. “I know you and Sam are on top of this, and I’m grateful for all you’re doing. You’ll let me know if there are any new developments?”
“Of course.”
As he headed back inside, I thought again about Lisa’s sessions with Dr. Markley. Had they ventured into Lisa’s subconscious memory? Had they revealed a secret so terrible someone had killed to protect it?
Chapter 24
I found a pay phone in the cluster of shops near the deli and started to call Lisa’s friend, Caroline Anderson. She probably knew Lisa as well as anyone, and I needed some answers. After dropping in my quarter, I reconsidered and hung up. I’d have better luck in person.
Caroline opened the door with a smile that withered when she saw me. “I can’t talk to you right now,” she said. “I was just getting the kids fed so I could put them down for their naps.”
“I only have a couple of questions. I promise to make it quick. Or I can wait until they’re in bed, if that would be better.”
She ran a hand through her tangled blond hair. “Why do you keep bothering me? I don’t know anything about what happened.”
“I don’t mean to bother you. It’s just that there seemed to be a lot of things going on in Lisa’s life that don’t make sense. One of them might have led to her death.”
Caroline looked at me with a mix of sullenness and frustration.
“Please,” I said. “I could really use your help.”
“Oh, all right.” She sighed, opening the door wider. The bruising around her lip had faded to a light teal. “Like I told you before, though, I didn’t spend a whole lot of time with Lisa these last couple of months so I don’t see how I’m going to help you.”
I followed her into the kitchen where the baby, in his high chair, was busy mashing banana into his hair. Jeremy sat at the table slurping a bowl of Cheerios.
“You’re sure Lisa never said anything about keeping a diary?” I asked.
“Not to me.”
Maybe I was making more of the issue than I needed to, but the diary was likely to be our only avenue into what went on in Lisa’s therapy sessions. And those discussions might well hold the answer to Lisa’s death, as well as Dr. Markley’s.
“Did Lisa talk much about her headaches?”
Caroline brushed crumbs off a chair and offered me a seat. “She’d complain about them, but who wouldn’t? I gather they were pretty awful.”
“Did she say what might have caused them?”
�
��Caused them?”
“Like maybe tension or worry?”
“No, just that she got them. And that they’d gotten worse in the last year. She was seeing a doctor about it.”
“Was there any pattern to the headaches?”
“Not that I was aware of.” Caroline pried what was left of the banana from her baby’s hand. He began to wail immediately. “Jeremy, reach into that box of Cheerios and give a handful to Ty.”
Most of the reading I’d done about repressed memory had been in the context of legal proceedings, and I’d tended to focus on that rather than the psychological aspects. I wished now that I’d paid more attention to some of the characteristic behaviors.
“Did she mention nightmares? Or trouble sleeping?”
Caroline shook her head. “Nothing unusual.” With the baby newly engrossed in tossing Cheerios, Caroline began the job of wiping banana from his hair.
“How was Lisa’s health otherwise?” I asked.
“It seemed okay. The headaches made her sick to her stomach, and some days she was really low on energy, but aren’t we all?”
“How about her family? Did she talk much about them?”
“I know that her parents were divorced not long after she was born. And then there was another marriage and divorce as well, while Lisa was still young. She was in high school when her mother married this last guy. It wasn’t like Lisa talked about them much, only that she wanted things to be different for Amy.”
“Different in what way?”
“The traditional American family and all that.” Caroline forced a laugh. “Like me and Duane. Mother, father, two kids and a house with a sandbox. Lisa had this notion that if you had the right players, you’d end up happy.”
“Lisa wasn’t?”
“It was hard to tell with Lisa. One day she’d be bright as a penny, all talkative and bubbly, then the next thing you know she’d be down in the dumps.”
Evidence of Guilt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery) Page 21