black-and-white silk top-Ricard was an odd mixture of hippie and hip. She couldn’t be more than forty, but Taylor wasn’t very good with ages.
Ricard crossed the room and held out her hand. Taylor shook it, then followed when the doctor gestured, leading the way into her inner sanctum.
The room was filled with sunlight-facing east, the early morning sun spilled through the windows, lending an air of good cheer to the surroundings. Two heavy couches faced one another across a second art deco glass coffee table; a large wing chair covered in black velvet bore the markings of frequent use. Sure enough, Ricard crossed the room, curled like a cat with her feet tucked under her, laid the notepad and pen on the coffee table and indicated Taylor should sit with a nod of her head. Taylor did, amazed at the control the woman exuded without even speaking. After a moment, the doctor spoke, her accented voice making Taylor feel like she was on a museum tour in Great Britain.
“I’m Ellen Ricard, but you already know that. How can I help you, Lieutenant?”
Straight to business. All right. “Corinne Wolff. She was a patient of yours. I was hoping you’d tell me why.”
“If you know she was a patient, then you know that I’m not bound to tell you anything about our private sessions. But, I am sorry that we’ve lost her. Corinne was a magnificent girl.”
“Then help me find out who killed her, Doctor.”
“Isn’t that readily apparent, Lieutenant? Two days out and you already had a suspect in custody.”
“That’s true, but I don’t think it’s a foregone conclusion that Todd killed Corinne. Yes, he’s been arrested because there’s evidence condemning him, but the investigation into his actions is far from complete. That’s not why I’m here. I understand that Corinne and her husband were…open with their sexuality.”
“Be that as it may. It’s you who isn’t sure. You don’t want to be responsible if he is innocent.”
“You’re right, I’m not convinced. I’m not careless with people’s lives, regardless of their choices. And stop psychoanalyzing me. I’m not a patient, I’m trying to get some answers.”
Ricard finally smiled, and relaxed in the chair. “All right, Lieutenant. I’ll stop playing games if you will.”
Taylor wasn’t sure what to make of the good doctor. Was this going anywhere, or was she just spinning her wheels?
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ricard steepled her fingers, tapping her two forefingers together. “It means I saw the news this morning. That you’d been suspended. Is this true, or did you get reinstated five minutes ago?”
Taylor slid farther into the sofa cushions, miserable. Damn.
Ricard waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t care, Lieutenant. I’ve seen the tapes.”
Taylor blanched, but Ricard continued, not warmly, but with a certain sense of shared camaraderie.
“Don’t worry. It’s blatantly obvious that someone is upset with you and trying to ruin your reputation. I’ve been through that kind of crap myself. Intimidation, coercion. Don’t let them get you down. But in all honesty, none of that matters here. I see that you’re true in your desire to find Corinne’s real killer. The fire in your eyes is unmistakable.” She smiled, the first kind look that had crossed her face since Taylor entered her sanctum.
“This will have to be off the record, though. Surely you understand. If I’m going to divulge secrets of a patient to an unfrocked police officer, I can only speak hypothetically.”
Taylor searched Ricard’s face for signs of mocking, and found none. What did she have to lose? It wasn’t like she could march into headquarters and announce she’d solved the case anyway. No, better to take the doctor at her word, listen to what she said, glean as much information as possible.
“I understand. That’s fine. I’m just curious why someone as controlled and secure as Corinne Wolff would fall apart like she did. For her to be taking prescription anti-anxiety medication during a pregnancy seems wholly out of character, and if it’s a clue that will help me discover if it’s her husband, or someone else, who killed her…”
Ricard was nodding, so Taylor stopped and let the woman gather her thoughts.
“You know a lot about her already. A thorough victimology, I presume?”
“I’m trying to build an accurate victimology. Corinne seemed to be a woman with two distinct personalities. On one side, the suburban housewife and mother, the former tennis wunderkind, the short-lived businesswoman. The other side was apparently out of control, desperately searching for happiness and pleasure. I’d like to find out why this woman had two sides that were so extreme.”
“We all have two sides, Lieutenant. The persona we adopt for our fellow man, and the self that we keep hidden, the real part of us that allows the core to make judgments and derive pleasure from our actions. You can’t tell me you’re the same person at home, in private, that you are in public. Simply being a woman in a man’s position would preclude you from showing any normal weakness or vulnerability on the job.”
“I’m hardly a woman in a man’s position, Doctor. And yes, I am the same woman at work as I am at home. What you see is what you get.”
Ricard smiled, her lips thinning. The woman didn’t like being challenged.
“Really? How many female lieutenants are there in the police force these days?”
“Plenty.”
“And do they have field jobs or administrative posts?”
“In Metro? Administrative. I’m the only lieutenant in the field.”
“And I bet you have the respect of your team. That you never show them how deep down you wish you could relinquish control and allow them to care for you.”
“Oh, you’re wrong there. We are a team. We work together, and I surrender to them all the time. If I didn’t they’d never trust me.”
“And you have a man at home?”
“Yes.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s with the FBI. He’s…”
“Yes?”
“He’s in the middle of an investigation and keeping certain aspects of the case from me. He wants to protect me, and I don’t need protecting.” Shut up already, Taylor. This chick was good.
Taylor continued. “But that’s neither here nor there, Doctor. It has nothing to do with Corinne Wolff.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re so very wrong. Corinne also operated under the misapprehension that she was in complete control of her life. That the choices she made were her choices. That she engaged in distasteful behavior because she wanted to. But in reality, there’s always a part of a woman that wants to be cherished and protected, not subjected to multiple sex partners. Much less have those most intimate moments sold to the highest bidder.”
Taylor looked at Ricard. Behind the glasses, the mask of cool reserve, Taylor saw a shrewd woman. Taylor made sure her own face revealed nothing but cool interest in Corinne Wolff.
“So you’re saying Corinne is a victim?”
“In a way. Corinne, unhappily, is no longer with us to verify that she felt abused by her husband’s proclivities. You, on the other hand, are early enough in the game that you can steel yourself to the accusations against you, knowing deep in your heart you’ve done nothing wrong. Corinne didn’t have your fortitude, I believe. She was easily led. Instead of fighting, she acquiesced. Allowed herself to be used.”
“I’m not a victim, Dr. Ricard. That’s where Corinne and I differ. I’d appreciate you keeping this discussion strictly about her, please. Was she being used by her husband?”
Ricard looked amused for a moment, then nodded and continued. “Corinne was being used by many people. Husband, family, siblings, lover. You’ll hit upon the truth soon enough, Lieutenant. Let’s talk for a bit about the anxiety a young mother might feel if she were in a position similar to Corinne Wolff.”
“Okay.”
“Think of the difficulties facing an exceptionally talented child. A completely controlled existence, a world structured around said child’s genius. Constant work, attention, adulation and expectation. Until the one day the child wakes up, literally and figuratively, and decides she doesn’t want to be a prodigy. She doesn’t want to work so hard to live her life. She sees the people around her taking the easy road, sleeping in on the weekends, having plenty of time to date and do homework, and suddenly, she decides that is the life she wants. Someone who is so driven might actually pursue that simple life with the dogged determination that made her such a gifted athlete.”
