Therapy

Milo crossed his legs, taking pains not to kick over a stack of box games. “We’re reviewing the case, sir. Is there anything that’s occurred to you since the first detectives questioned you?”

“Reviewing,” said Van Dyne, deflated. “No, nothing.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why has the case been reopened?”

“It never closed, sir.”

“Oh,” said Van Dyne. “Sure, of course.” His knees bumped together.

The small chair was cramping my back, and I stretched. It had to be agony for Milo, but he appeared fine.

He said, “One thing that came up in our review was that Ms. Newsome was seeing a psychotherapist. Detective Ogden told me that was a surprise to you.”

“It was a total surprise. Flora never told me. Which was strange because I’d been in therapy and told her.” Van Dyne fooled with his glasses. “I thought we had an open relationship.”

“You were in therapy, too,” said Milo.

Van Dyne smiled. “Nothing crazy, Lieutenant. I was married for three years, got divorced six months before I met Flora. My wife left me for some guy, and I was having a rough time. To be honest, I was pretty depressed. I saw a psychologist, and he counseled me and referred me to a psychiatrist for some short-term antidepressants. After three months, I felt a lot better and stopped the pills. Another two months of therapy, and I was ready to be on my own. That’s what enabled me to be open to a relationship with Flora. So I’d be the last person to look down on therapy. I guess Flora felt differently.”

“You think she was embarrassed?”

Van Dyne nodded.

Milo said, “Any idea why she sought treatment?”

“Not a clue. And believe me, I’ve thought about it.”

“She was well adjusted.”

“I thought she was.”

“You have doubts now?”

“I just assume she went for help because there was some kind of problem. It would have had to be something Flora viewed as serious. She wasn’t the type to talk for the sake of talking.”

“Something serious.”

“Serious in her mind.”

“You two meet here at the school?” said Milo.

“First day of school. I’d just transferred from the Valley, and Flora was beginning her probationary year. She got assigned to assist another teacher, but I was the one who ended up showing her the ropes. One thing led to the other.”

Milo pulled out his pad and scribbled. Keeping his eyes on the page, he said, “Any idea about who might’ve wanted to hurt Ms. Newsome?”

“Some nut,” said Van Dyne. “No rational person would do what I saw. It was… stomach-churning.”

“Did Flora ever talk about being afraid of anyone?” said Milo. “Someone harassing her, stalking her, that kind of thing?” Easing his big body closer to Van Dyne. Using Newsome’s first name.

“Never. But given the fact that she kept her therapy a secret, I can’t be sure she didn’t hide something else.”

“Did she ever seem scared or unduly nervous?”

“Being on probation was a little stressful. Who likes to be judged? But she was doing great, would definitely have passed. Teaching meant a lot to her, Lieutenant. She told me everything she’d done before that had just been a job, but this was her career.”

“What other jobs did she have?” I said.

“Office work, mostly. She did some filing for a law firm, worked at a parole office, then she managed the office of a software company that went bust. Evenings she studied for her credential.”

“The parole office downtown?” said Milo.

“She never said, only that she didn’t like it there. Too many weird characters coming in and out. I thought that might be important and mentioned it to the first detectives, but they didn’t seem to agree. Because Flora hadn’t worked there for a while.”

“Weird characters.”

“Her phrase,” said Van Dyne. “She didn’t want to discuss it.” He laced his hands across his chest, as if guarding his heart. “The thing you need to understand about Flora was she wasn’t the most talkative person. Not very outgoing or passionate on the surface.” He licked his lips. “She was very… traditional, more like someone from my mother’s generation.”

“Conservative.”

“Very. That’s why I was so surprised to find out she’d been in therapy.”

“And you have no idea,” said Milo, “about what was bothering her.”

“She seemed happy,” said Van Dyne. “She really did.”

“About getting married.”

“About everything. She was a reserved person, Lieutenant. An old-fashioned girl.” Van Dyne’s fingers separated, but he kept his hand on his chest. “Have you talked to her therapist? Dr. Mary Lou Koppel, she’s one of those radio personalities. For all I know that’s how Flora found her, from hearing her on the radio.”

“Would Flora do something like that?” I said. “Listen to a show and call up for an appointment?”

Van Dyne thought about that. “It’s not what I’d have predicted, but who knows? What did Koppel say about treating Flora?”

“Haven’t spoken to her yet,” said Milo.

“Maybe you’ll have better luck than I did.” Van Dyne’s hands dropped to his lap. “I called her a few weeks after the murder, when I found out Flora had been seeing her. I’m not even sure what I wanted. Some memory of Flora, I guess. Maybe some sympathy, it was a horrendous time. But boy did I dial a wrong number. She was anything but sympathetic. Said confidentiality prevented her from speaking to me and hung up. Very curt. Not in the least bit therapeutic.”

*

Driving away from the school, Milo frowned and lit up a panatella. “Sensitive guy.”

“He bug you in some way?”

“Not in the criminal sense, but I wouldn’t want to hang out with him. Too delicate.” He frowned. “Working at a parole office where the cons made her nervous. One reinterview and we’ve got info that wasn’t in Lorraine’s notes.”

“Lorraine and McKinley weren’t impressed with the parole job because a year had gone by.”

“I’m more easily impressed.”

*

We returned to the station, where he accessed Flora Newsome’s state employment records and located the parole branch where she’d clerked for five months. Not downtown, the North Hollywood office. A half-hour drive from the murder scene.

I said, “A con notices her, follows her home, stakes out her apartment. Breaking in wouldn’t be much of a challenge for a pro.”

“Ye olde failure to rehabilitate,” he said. “Wonder what Dr. Koppel thinks about that.” He stood, stretched, sat down hard.

I said, “There’s another possibility. The con didn’t follow Flora home, she already knew him. That’s why there was no sign of a break-in. Why he didn’t need to bring a knife. Maybe what brought Flora to therapy was more than adjustment problems.”

“Nice, old-fashioned girl getting it on with a lowlife?”

“She kept her therapy from her boyfriend, could’ve had other secrets.”