Down the Psycho Path

by Dan Dillard

  Outside the door, Courtney had her microphone muted, and was frantically calling people, looking for extra bodies to throw at the workload.

  Ray put on his salesman’s smile and stood up to make his point.

  “I’m not going to charge you, sir. This, being my fault, will come out of my pocket. We’ll bring things together on time, you have my word. If it isn’t amazing, I’ll personally deliver all of your files to another firm of your choosing.”

  Keller looked at him for a long time. His coal black eyes scanned as if he were reading Ray’s mind.

  “Amazing, you say? I’m sixty years old and I haven’t been amazed since my first blow job. I’ll settle for satisfactory at this point, but nothing less. You have until Tuesday.”

  “Thank you,” Ray said.

  Keller glared at him. “Don’t thank me. Get to work.”

  The old man spun on his leather heels and stomped out the door as quickly as he had come, but his intensity hung in the office like a stale fart. Courtney stood and poked a cautious head into Ray’s office.

  “Did you find me three more people?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are we really that far behind?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Can we make it by Tuesday?”

  “If we work Saturday and Sunday.”

  Ray put his head in his hands and grabbed fists full of his dark brown, but graying, hair.

  “I can’t do that right now.”

  “I know sir. I think the team could handle it if you were available by phone. We can email you the pages and prints as we get them done.”

  “Right. I know you can do it, Court. Hell, you do my job better than I do. I’m just out of sorts.”

  “I know. He’s a mean old bastard, isn’t he?”

  “Shh. He’ll hear you,” Ray said.

  Then he motioned for her to close the door and pulled up the Keller file on his computer.

  ***

  Five o’clock was a long time coming and Ray hadn’t even called to check on his mother or Stephanie. He would’ve worked right through if he hadn’t seen Courtney leaving. He hadn’t thought about Tabby since he’d read her email that morning and a part of him was thankful. As soon as he logged out and turned off his monitor, it all came rushing back.

  Drinks with David would be good for him. His mother said so and he kept telling himself she was right as he exited the building and walked to his car, but his heart wasn’t in it. All he could think about was Stephanie. It was as if Tabby’s maternal instincts transferred to him and his heart just ached for his daughter.

  “How’s it goin?” a colleague asked as they passed in the parking lot. The man’s face was drawn up in an expression of condolence. Ray recognized him but didn’t know the man well.

  “I could use a drink,” Ray said and the words coming out of his mouth were a surprise. Maybe he really did need to see a friend. The other man nodded and then got in his car, ending the awkward conversation.

  At Dickie’s, Ray sat at the bar while he waited. Three different high-definition screens played three different sports. He wasn’t interested in any of them.

  A young, female bartender approached. “Can I get you something?”

  Ray didn’t even look at her. “Nothing yet, thanks.” He pulled out his cell phone and called home. “Hi mom. Is Steph okay?”

  “She’s fine. We’re fine. Did you have a busy day at work?”

  “It was stressful, but I’ll get back in the swing.”

  “Have you met David yet?”

  “I’m waiting on him now, but I should be home by 7:00.”

  “It’s no rush. We’ve got things under control around here,” she said. “Did you want to come back here for snacks or something? I could fix something,” she said.

  “No. We’re just going to have a drink and talk for an hour or so. I don’t have a late night in me this evening.”

  “Okay, honey. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

  “Thanks again, Mom.”

  “Not necessary, son. I love this little lady. Oh, and Raymond?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “I’m glad you’re doing this. It will be good for you,” she said.

  More patrons wandered in as he put his phone away, but David wasn’t among them. Ray waved to the young lady behind the bar. She flashed a beautiful smile. “Hi,” she said. “Are you ready to order?”

  “One shot of whiskey and whatever is cheap on draft.”

  “Surprise you?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Will do.” She bounced away, and had his drinks back to him in no time. “Would you like a tab, or pay as you go?”

  “Tab, please. I’m meeting a friend.”

  She smiled and slid down the counter to the register, punching in some numbers before helping the next couple a few stools away. Ray drank the shot quickly, and then sipped his beer to cool his throat. 5:30 came and went. At 5:45, his phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Ray, it’s David. Hey, I got your cell number from your mom. Look, buddy. There’s just no way I can make it out tonight. I’m having some nightmare work issues and I couldn’t possibly make it out there before seven or eight tonight. I figured that would be too late, besides I’m probably not really good company today. Can we take a rain check? I’ll owe you. Hell, I’ll buy next time. Every round.”

  Ray felt his heartbeat slow. He would’ve liked some companionship, but he wasn’t looking forward to small talk, or giving explanations. It also meant he could get home to Stephanie which is what his heart really wanted. “No problem. Hey, just let me know when you’re available and I’ll work it out. Maybe Steph and I will make it up to see you and Laura sometime.”

  “She’d love that. Okay, then take it easy, brother,” David said.

  “You too.”

  Ray slid his phone into his shirt pocket and looked at his half empty beer mug. He looked down the counter at the other couple and then glanced around at the other patrons. All of their faces had one thing in common: joy. He felt as if he might never find true joy again. As he watched the others, he heard the stool squeak as someone sat next to him. Ray shifted in his seat and turned back toward the bar to make room for them, a little irritated given all the empty stools.

  The bartender leaned on the bar and talked to his new neighbor.

  “Another?” she said.

  “Please,” the man said and she poured him a shot of whiskey.

  “How about you?” she asked Ray.

  “No, I’m good thanks.”

  “I thought that was you,” the neighbor said.

  Ray turned to him and recognized the dark, intense eyes. “James Babbit. I’m the surgeon who operated on your wife.”

  Ray’s insides filled with rage, hatred. How could he just say those words with no emotion? With no…nothing. He wanted to smash his empty beer mug in the doctor’s face, but he maintained. “I remember,” he said.

  “I wanted to see how you and your family were holding up. I’m glad I ran into you.”

  His words slurred slightly, a sign he’d had more than a couple. Ray didn’t know how to respond or if he should just get up and walk out. He decided to be straight forward, if not blunt. “We are missing my wife.”

  Babbit just stared at him. It made Ray uncomfortable. “Look, I don’t think we should have this conversation right now. You’ve been drinking,” Ray said.

  “As have you.”

  “Yes, and so I think it’s better if we don’t have this conversation right now. In fact, I’m not sure I want to have this conversation with you at all. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not sure I can be civil.”

  Babbit tossed back the shot and threw a five dollar bill on the counter. “Mr. Noonan, I won’t bother you anymore. I just wanted to thank you.”

  The words caught Ray’s attention. Thank you? “Thank me for what?” he asked.

  Babbit leaned a little closer and whispered, his whiske
y breath almost unbearable. “For taking the pressure off.”

  Ray leaned back, recoiling at the strange answer.

  “It’s okay,” Babbit continued. “We’re in this together, buddy. I’ve got your back.”

  Ray’s look of confusion turned to concern. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Babbit looked at the bartender and gave her a wink. She waved from the end of the counter and continued mixing a pair of specialty drinks. Then he scanned the rest of the bar before looking back at Ray.

  “You wanted her gone, and she’s gone. You said not to let her suffer and she didn’t. It’s okay, I can keep our secret.”

  Ray’s heart thudded. “I hope that’s liquor talking, you sick bastard.”

  Babbit smiled. “Mr. Noonan, I’ll keep in touch.” The surgeon stood and walked directly out of the bar, leaving Ray speechless. He waved the young girl over and handed her a twenty dollar bill. “Keep it,” he said and rushed to the door to follow Babbit. He turned each direction on the busy sidewalk but the man was nowhere in sight. Ray pulled out his wallet and thumbed through a small stack of folded receipts and business cards inside. One was for the surgeon. It listed an emergency cell number and Ray dialed it.

  “Come on you motherfucker. Answer your phone.” The phone stopped ringing. “Babbit, you sick…”

  He was interrupted by a recording. “The cellular customer you are trying to reach is unavailable…” Ray didn’t wait for the end of the message. Instead he got in his car and hurried home. He was frantic, practically foaming by the time he got there.

  “Mom,” he said as he burst through the garage door into the kitchen.

  “In here, Raymond.”

  Ray entered the room, eyes round like dinner plates.

  “Ray, what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Where’s Steph?”

  “She’s upstairs, getting some crayons. What is the matter?”

  “The doctor,” he said, then stopped to catch his breath.

  “That reminds me, a Dr. Babbit called. Said he was the surgeon for Tabby’s procedure?”

  The sound went out of Ray’s world. He felt blood rushing from his face and had to sit down.

  “Ray? My God, what is wrong?”

  He thought it was too much for her. Maybe it had just been the liquor talking, or some imagined scenario brought on by grief. The last thing he needed to do was rave like a madman and start blaming the surgeon for Tabby’s death. “Nothing. Never mind, I’m just under a lot of stress. What did the doctor say?”

  “He said he wanted to follow up with the family, to see how you were holding up. He offered an apology.”

  He didn’t offer me an apology, he said it was my fault, Ray thought. “What did you tell him?”

  “I said you were out, but I would pass on the message.”

  “Did you tell him where I was?”

  “Well, no. Should I have?”

  “No, it’s fine. You did fine.”

  “Ray, what is it? Did something happen? Did you see David?”

  “No, he cancelled. I’m fine, like I said. It was just a bad day at work. I need to settle down and then go hug that little girl.”

  Stephanie rounded the corner and ran to her father, arms wide open. Her hug melted away his anxiety, but the scene kept playing in his head.

  We’re in this together, buddy. I’ve got your back.

  ***

  The weekend was long, interrupted by constant phone calls from work, but on Monday they finished the presentation and on Tuesday, Keller was satisfied.

  “Not impressed, Noonan, but satisfied,” he had said.

  Wednesday morning, Courtney called in sick. “I just can’t make it in, Ray. I don’t know what kind of bug this is, but it’s pretty nasty.”

  “We’ll make do. If you need anything, let us know.”

  Ray leaned back in his chair and breathed a huge sigh of relief. He had smaller clients to work with, but Keller’s package was enough to pay his bills for the year and that kept him in good graces with the firm. His email was caught up and even with Courtney out, it would be smooth sailing for at least a week. Time he could focus on getting his family back on track. He opened up the email from Tabby.

  I love you. Whatever happens tomorrow, I love you.

  He left it open on his desktop the rest of the day. His background was a picture of their house with a blue, smiley-faced sun, a fluffy purple tree and a green dog. Stephanie had drawn it in crayon for him.

  “We don’t have a dog. Maybe we need one?” he said. It was something else to care for, but would also be something to fill a little of that emptiness at home. And Stephanie would love it. He marked his calendar for the weekend to check out the local humane society.

  Friday morning, he saw Courtney’s desk was still empty and decided to give her a call. He punched her number into the phone before he did anything else and her voice was pitiful when she answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Court. Were you asleep?”

  “No. I haven’t stopped puking long enough to get any sleep.”

  “You need to see a doctor.”

  The word made him shiver a little.

  “I saw one yesterday, he’s got me on some pills. This is some kind of virus, but the medicine is supposed to help with the nausea. I think it’s gotten worse.”

  “I hope they start working for you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back to work Monday if I can.”

  “Take your time and rest. We’re slow and easy here. No worries,” he said.

  “Oh. Oh, Ray… I’ve gotta go.”

  She hung up the phone, he presumed to go vomit. It turned his stomach a bit and he flipped on his monitor to take his mind off of the scene that was playing in his head.

  There were a dozen or so emails, as he scanned them, one stuck out. It was from an address he didn’t recognize and the subject line said only, Courtney. The time stamp was twenty minutes old. He clicked it open.

  Ray,

  I hear your secretary is sick. Think I’ll pay her a visit and end her illness.

  J.

  Ray scrambled to dial her number again. His fingers couldn’t move over the buttons fast enough. When it finally started to ring, he realized how crazed he must look. The phone rang over and over. She’s sick, he thought. She isn’t answering because she’s getting sick. He tapped his finger on the desktop as her voicemail picked up. “Courtney, this is Ray. I’m going to come by and see you. Hey, don’t take any more of that medicine okay? I think you might be allergic to it or something.” He hung up and started to dial her again when his email buzzed. A note popped up from Courtney’s address.

  Boss,

  Heard your message. Jim is here so I can’t talk. Don’t worry, he’ll end my pain and suffering.

  C.

  Doctors don’t make house calls. And she never called him boss. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Ray said, pounding on his desk.

  He stood up so fast, his chair fell over on its wheels, and he bolted out the door without righting it. He skipped the elevator and stumbled twice getting down the stairs, thankful for the handrail. Once out the entrance door, he hurried past several people coming into work, but didn’t acknowledge any of them.

  Ray drummed nervously on his steering wheel as he waited for the light to change. Only a few blocks to Courtney’s apartment. What is that twisted bastard doing to her? The light turned green and he chirped the tires as he punched the accelerator through the intersection. He’d only been to Courtney’s home two other times. Each visit was for a dinner with his wife and daughter at his secretary’s request. He had no idea what he was going to do when he got to her door, what to do when he got inside and found that man there, no idea what he would do if Courtney was hurt or worse. More than anything, he hoped it was all a misunderstanding.

  When the doors to the elevator opened on the third floor, he ran down the hallway to her apartment, panting and banging on the door. Whe
n no one answered, he tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. The door popped open when he twisted the knob.

  “Court? You okay? It’s Ray. I was worried and wanted to check on you. Your door was open. Court?” It was so quiet, Ray could hear his own pulse, his own breathing. He would’ve welcomed any noise at all, but the dwelling was as dead as he feared Courtney might be. He checked each room. “I’ll call the police,” he said, reaching for his cell phone.

  A message was flashing, again from the unknown email address that had been signed “J” earlier. “Fuck,” Ray said. He pushed a few buttons and brought up the electronic mail.

  I imagine you’re thinking about calling the cops. I also imagine your prints are all over that apartment, but I can assure you, mine are not. And the police are already on their way.

  The police were on their way. They were coming down the hall that very minute. Someone had called the police and reported an intruder in Courtney’s apartment. Ray had no choice but to stay and answer their tedious questions about why he was there and try not to look like a suspect. He even showed them the emails. Their interrogation and search lasted over an hour.

  The lead detective sat across from Ray in Courtney’s living room. His name was Wilkins.“You say you think this is the surgeon that operated on your wife, a Dr. James Babbit?”

  “He killed my wife. I know he did.”

  “And you have proof of this?”

  Ray squirmed. He had that feeling of being a raving lunatic again and wanted to clam up but he’d already gone too far. “He told me. He said, ‘we’re in this together’ and tried to blame it on me.”

  “This was at the bar? Dickie’s downtown, right?”

  “Yes. I was there to meet a friend,” Ray said.

  “And did your friend show up?”

  “No, he had to cancel, but he called me while I was there.”

  The detective jotted down a few notes. “And did you talk to anyone else while you were there? Anyone who might also have seen this doctor or heard your conversation?”

  “Only the waitress. I don’t know her name.”

  “That’s easy enough to get from the manager. This was Thursday evening?”

  “About six, yes,” Ray said.

  Wilkins shifted, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking at Ray through slotted, accusatory eyes. “Did you want your wife dead? Maybe so you could be with this woman, the secretary that you seem so concerned about?”