The Beholder, a Maddie Richards Mystery (24 page)

He lowered his driver’s window without making a movement to get out, his expression revealing agitation, if not anger.

“Thank you, Doctor Knight. I appreciate your agreeing to meet here. I know this isn’t a place you wanted to come.”

“Sergeant Richards, I spoke to your partner Jed Smith late the night my wife was murdered; butchered. Then you and I met at your station house where I explained yet again why I had lied about being in San Diego and admitted that I came back early. I openly admitted hiring the private investigator, even approved his telling you anything you wished to know about our interaction. As I said this morning on the phone, I don’t see that I can tell you anything further. And, frankly, meeting here is cruel.”

“Doctor Knight, I’m sure you often meet with some of your patients several times, discussing what must seem to them to be the same issues. Then something is said differently or whatever and a corner is turned in their treatment. For me, it can be the same. Sure we re-plow some old ground, but some new question may come up extemporaneously, or a prior question is asked but in a different way. And as a result, our investigation may turn a corner. We both want the same thing, so please work with me here.” She opened his car door. “Let’s go inside.”

“Actually, Sergeant, I would prefer not—” he then huffed, got out of the car and followed her up the brown pavers that had been used to border his asphalt driveway kept bone white by the bleaching effect of the desert sun.

“Exactly why are we here, Sergeant?” he asked after she unlocked the door.

“Steve Gibbs was your patient, is still your patient. Correct?”

“That’s something I can’t discuss. You must know that.”

“I’m not asking you to tell me about his neurosis or treatment,” Maddie replied. “I only want you to confirm the fact that he has been seeing you in a professional capacity for the last two years, and that you recommended him to Doctor Ripley for the job he now holds. It’s already alluded to in his personnel file, Doctor. So it’s certainly not a privileged communication.”

“Then why do you need to ask?”

“I’m trying to find the man who killed your wife.” Maddie closed the front door behind him. “How ‘bout cutting me some slack?”

“Very well,” he said impatiently. “Steve Gibbs was and is my patient. I will say nothing further. If this is why you brought me here, to discuss one of my patients, this will be a short meeting.”

“Steve’s aunt smothers the young man. Were you able to help him with that?”

“I told you I will not discuss Steve Gibbs, or any of my patients.”

“Did Steve learn that your wife was having affairs with several men?”

If that had startled the doctor, he neither showed it nor contested the reference to several men.

“Certainly not,” he said. “My personal and professional lives are separate.”

“You knew your wife was getting it on with men in addition to Bronson. Is it possible Steve also learned of Abigail’s dalliances?”

“What other men, Sergeant Richards?”

“There were others. We need to identify these men and determine their whereabouts on that night. What other men can you identify for me?”

“I knew only of her carrying on with Bronson, her trainer.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Now, let’s go back to my question regarding Steve Gibbs knowing about Abigail’s … disloyalties.”

“This is ridiculous,” he said, moving back toward the front door. Maddie situated herself directly in his path.

“Based on the dates and times your private investigator provided us, Steve could well have been in your waiting room while you were meeting with your private investigator, Gilkinson. Isn’t it possible that Steve could have overheard some talk about your wife’s infidelities?”

“Sessions sometimes include emotional outbursts by patients who are struggling to make a revelation. My office is designed to be soundproof, so, no, not possible.”

“A telling comment by an insensitive PI while the door was open as he left, or when he turned back after the door was ajar, not possible?”

“I suppose anything is possible, Sergeant. I do recall once, I opened the door to walk Gilkinson out, and Steve was sitting in the lobby. However, I have no recollection of our speaking of my wife’s indiscretions at that exact moment.”

“That was a surprising recall, after your staunch denials.”

“The mind is a funny thing, Sergeant. As we were talking, I suddenly recalled Steve Gibbs’s face when I walked Gilkinson out of my office. Steve seemed surprised. At the time I thought he had dozed off and I startled him when the door opened. Is this important?”

“What’s important and what isn’t won’t become clear for a while yet.” She moved to stand in front of the staircase just below his wife’s picture. “Several days ago you were interviewed by Katie Carson, the television newscaster?”

“Yes,” he said. “Ms. Carson is a very compassionate lady.”

Oh, please, Maddie thought, rolling her eyes when Dr. Knight wasn’t looking.

“She stated on the news that you confirmed that the clothing your wife had worn that day was missing.”

“Yes. She asked me about that.”

“Did you tell her about the missing clothes or did she ask you to confirm that they were missing?”

“Why is this important, Sergeant Richards?”

Maddie saw his eyes flicker toward the portrait. “Just answer my question,” she said in a deliberate tone.

“Ms. Carson told me she had heard that Abigail’s outfit from that day could not be found. She asked could I confirm that to be true.”

“And?”

“And, I told her what I knew.”

“But until Ms. Carson brought it up, you hadn’t known about your wife’s missing outfit?”

“At first, I hadn’t even known what my wife had worn that afternoon. Then Officer Martin contacted me about Abby’s outfit and which dry cleaners she might have used. That’s when I learned of her dress being missing.”

“But again, Ms. Carson brought the subject up, not you?”

“Correct.”

“She knew about it before she interviewed you. Is that correct?”

“I said she brought it up, so, that would mean she had to have known. Now, let me ask you something, Sergeant. When are you going to capture this butcher, this sorry piece of shit who has also killed two other women, and who, we both know, will keep on killing until you stop him?”

Maddie ignored his question. “Tell me Doctor, under the circumstances, why didn’t you just divorce your wife?”

He put his hands in his pockets and lowered his head. After a minute, he sagged down and sat on the first step, putting his back to the painting of his wife.

“In my work I’ve seen so many marriages break up over sexual improprieties. People are hurt, angry. They want to strike back through divorce rather than work through the painful issues. I didn’t want to be another of those people. Divorce can also be financially devastating.”

“But you had a prenuptial agreement that would have left Abigail nothing beyond what you might offer. You had her red-handed, caught in more than one affair. The prenup said she’d get virtually nothing.”

“I was speaking in general terms, not specific to me. Yes, our contract, if I can call it that, would have left Abigail with very little, certainly not enough to sustain the standard of living she had come to know. But it would have done nothing to repair my broken heart. Abigail was a libertine, Sergeant. Of that, there’s no doubt. Still, I loved her and chose to believe that as she matured she would again honor her vows.”

An interesting choice of words, Maddie thought. Libertine, a word technically used with regard to promiscuous men. Not slut. Not whore. Not any of the more common female words, all of which would apply. Apparently, the good doctor has given a great deal of thought to just which word he should use to describe his adulterous wife.

Maddie wondered if she should have taken that perspective with her ex-husband. Waited patiently until Curtis remembered he loved her and decided to again honor his vows? Maybe if he had conducted the other aspects of his life responsibly, she could have at least considered giving him another chance. No. Not on your life. Not this girl.

Doctor Knight was a man of achievement, used to being treated with respect, even deference. He had to be humiliated by his wife’s conduct. He had to be livid. Yet he had polished his pain. Made himself appear above the shame of knowing his wife was wrapping her legs around her black trainer, Rex Bronson, their neighbor, Brent Sternberg, and God only knows who else. And he only calls her libertine.

As Maddie pulled from the curb, she dialed for her messages. There was one from her mother, a message like no other her mother had ever left. “I need you to come home, Madeline Jane? We need to talk about something upsetting that just happened.”

Could this involve Bradley? Had her ex-husband done something crazy?

Chapter 35

“What’s happened, mother?” Maddie asked, coming into the kitchen from the garage.

“Curtis’s attorney came by; there were two of them.”

“What? What did they want?”

“Now, stay calm, Madeline Jane. Don’t get a knot in your shorts. You remember your father used to say that.”

Maddie tossed her purse into the nearest chair. “For God’s sake mother, drop the old folk’s charm, and tell me what happened.”

“They came a little after two. They—”

“Where was Bradley?”

“He’d gone over to a friend’s house. He’s still there. The boy on the corner, that chubby boy, you know the English family that moved in last fall. I can never remember the child’s name. It’s odd. Horton. That’s it. Horton. Why would anyone name their son, Horton?”

Maddie’s mother’s mind often gave the same ranking to the important and the unimportant. At times it was maddening. She was a good caretaker for Bradley, but under stress she often acted as though she had no judgment whatsoever.

“I don’t care about that right now. I want you to tell me about this, exactly as it happened. What they said, what you said, and before Bradley comes home.”

“Like I said, Madeline Jane, there were two of them. One fellow didn’t say much of anything. The other one, I’ve got his card.” She fished in the pocket of her house dress and, after looking at it, handed it to her daughter. “Jesse Gray. He’s the one who did all the talking. He was a nice man. He had a full head of hair and, like his name, his hair had these little ribbons of gray.”

“He’s not a nice man!” Maddie said, barely controlling her desire to scream. “He’s been hired to help Curtis take Bradley away from me, away from us. He’s a hired gun. They want to steal my son!”

“Now settle down, dear. Mr. Gray, well, I liked him.”

“Sharks look pleasant circling you, if you fail to see their evil.”

“Now calm down, Madeline Jane. If you don’t let me talk, you won’t find out what he said.”

Maddie lowered her hands from her hips and took a long breath. “I’ll be quiet if you’ll just stick to the subject. And we don’t need to stand in the middle of the room.”

“Mr. Gray was a very nice man,” her mother repeated as they sat down facing one another across the coffee table. “Now, he
was
, Madeline Jane. A good man, I could tell. He was only interested in what was best for Bradley. That’s what he said. He told me that Curtis and his new wife, Yvonne is her name. Anyway, Curtis and Yvonne can provide Bradley with a great life. The best schools, whatever he needs. You know Bradley is very smart. He could go to Stanford or one of those Ivy League places they’re always talking about. He’s got the brains and they’ve got the money.”

“Sounds like you and this Mr. Gray have it all worked out,” Maddie said bitterly.

“I know this must be frightening to you,” her mother went on. “Frankly, I’m scared, too. I can’t imagine our living without Bradley. But we must do what is best for him. He could have a very good life. Mix with the kind of people that could open a whole new world to him. I just don’t know, Madeline Jane. I just don’t know.”

“What were they asking you to do, Mother? I’m sure they came here for more than just a chat.”

“They want me to testify, dear. They will ask me about Bradley’s life. I guess things like what I do with him. How he does in school. Stuff like that. That doesn’t seem so bad, does it?”

“You’ve never testified in a courtroom, Mother.”

“No. I haven’t. That’s true. But Mr. Gray said that if I tell the truth everything will be fine. What’s the harm in that?”

Maddie moved to the couch, reached over and took her mother’s hand. “Mr. Gray is charming you right into the witness chair. Once you’re there, he’ll corner you. He’ll have you saying I’m not a fit mother that I’m never home. He’ll be creating the picture that you raise Bradley, not me. That I get phone calls at all hours, often from strange people, that my job is too risky. That you worry for my safety so, of course, Bradley must also be at risk. Mother, hear me good, they plan to take Bradley away from us.”

“There was so much your father and I couldn’t do for you, things we couldn’t give you. They can give it all to Bradley. Introduce him to influential people. Rich people. Send him to the best schools. Pay for music lessons, and so much more.”

“What happened to your routine about everyone being equal in the eyes of the Lord? That love and family are more important than materiality. Has all that been a lie? Let’s break Bradley’s heart, but line his pockets. Is that your plan?”

“Madeline Jane. That’s cruel. You know I don’t think that way.”

“I didn’t think you did until I came home today. Tell me, what happens after Yvonne tires of Curtis sponging off her? Tires of watching him drink himself into unconsciousness. Have you forgotten all that ugliness?”

Maddie knew it wasn’t right to be angry with her mother, but this whole thing was maddening.

“Curtis hasn’t changed, Mother. He’s still a drunk who uses everyone. Now he’s using Yvonne and her father’s money to get Bradley so he can live what he sees as the good life. That same good life that you think Bradley will have. I don’t know what to do, Mother. All I know is that if you help them, we’ll lose Bradley.”