“What was Vita’s bad behavior?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “May I tell you something in utter confidence, Alex? Really, I don’t want this entered in any official record.”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you.” He chewed his lip, played with a sleeve. “Vita was quite possibly the least pleasant person I’ve ever met. I know we’re not supposed to judge, but let’s face it, we do. It didn’t help that she had no motivation to cooperate and regarded our profession with obvious disdain. Most of our sessions consisted of her complaining that I was wasting her time. That anyone with half a brain could see she’d suffered grievous injury. She just about came out and called me a quack. Now you tell me she’s been murdered. Was there evidence of rage? Because I can see her inciting someone’s anger past the point of no return.”
“I’m also limited in what I can say, Bern.”
“I see… all right. Then that’s really all I can tell you.”
“Could we go back to her lawsuit? What kind of pranks and ridicule did she say she’d experienced?”
“Gluing her desk drawer shut, hiding her headset, making off with her snacks. She claimed she overheard people referring to her as the ‘Mad Cow’ and ‘Grumpy Gertie.’ ”
“Claimed,” I said. “You think she was pouring it on.”
“I have no doubt she wasn’t popular but all I had to go on was her self-report. The question in my mind was what role did her behavior play in provoking hostility? But figuring that out wasn’t my job. I was asked to render an opinion about her faking and couldn’t. Apparently that was enough because the settlement went through.”
“How much of the five million did she get?”
“I wasn’t privy to details but the lawyer said it was considerably less-under a million.”
“Pretty nice payoff for having your drawers glued.”
Shacker stifled a laugh that pitched his spare frame forward, as if he’d been shoved from behind. “Forgive me, this is a terrible situation. But what you just said-‘Having her drawers glued.’ I’m no Freudian, but that’s some image, no? And you could certainly describe Vita as being sealed up. In every way.”
“No sex life?”
“Nonexistent sex life and social life, according to her. She said she preferred it that way. Was that true or merely rationalization? I don’t know. In fact, I can’t say anything about her with confidence because I never got to see her long enough to break through the resistance. In the end, it didn’t matter: She got what she wanted. That’s the world we’re living in, Alex. Genuinely sick people encounter the likes of Vita who block their treatment and big money’s doled out for exaggerated claims because it’s cheaper to settle.”
“What’s the name of the lawyer who represented her?”
“I asked for official documents but never got them, had to work from a case summary provided by the casualty insurers.”
“Why all the hush-hush?”
“Their position was I needed to be viewed as objective in case my conclusions were called into question.”
The regretful look in his eyes deepened. “Looking back, sure, I was used. I’ll never repeat the experience.”
“What kind of personal information did Vita give you?”
“Not much, taking a history was an ordeal,” he said. “I did get her to grudgingly admit to a difficult childhood. But once again, can we be sure Vita didn’t bring some of that upon herself?”
“Cranky kid.”
“I’ve come to appreciate the importance of temperament. We’re all dealt set hands, the key is how we play them. After observing Vita Berlin as a middle-aged woman it’s hard to imagine her as a sweet, cheerful child. But I could be wrong. Perhaps something turned her sour.”
“Was she ever married?”
“She admitted to an early marriage but refused to talk about it. There was one sibling, a sister, they grew up near Chicago. Vita moved to L.A. ten years ago because she hated the weather in the Midwest. But she hated L.A., too. Everyone was stupid, superficial. Anything else-oh, yes, she never had children, detested kids, called them wastes of sperm and eggs-her phrasing. So how long have you worked for the police?”
“I’m not on payroll, more of an independent contractor.”
“Sounds interesting,” said Shacker. “Seeing the dark side and all that. Though I’m not sure I could handle it. To tell the truth, I’m really not that curious about horrible things. All those terrible dyssynchronies.”
“Me, neither,” I lied. “It’s the solution that’s gratifying.”
“My impression is that profiling has turned out to be quite a dud.”
“Cookbooking never works. Could I ask you a few more questions about Vita?”
“Such as?”
“Did she have friends or outside interests?”
“My impression is she was somewhat of a homebody.”
“Did you pick up any signs of substance abuse?”
“No. Why?”
“The police found a couple of bulk-sized whiskey bottles in her apartment. Hidden.”
“Did they? Well, that’s humbling, Alex, I never caught that. Not that I could be expected to, given her resistance.” He looked at his watch. “If there’s nothing else-”
“How many sessions did she have?”
“A few-six, seven.”
“Do you have her chart here?”
“The insurance company took possession of all records.”
His desk phone rang. He went over and picked it up. “Dr. Shacker… oh, hi… well, I could squeeze you in today if that would work… yes, of course, it’s my pleasure, we’ll go over all of that once you’re here.”
Hanging up, he said, “There’s one more thing, Alex. I probably shouldn’t be telling you, but I will. She mentioned the name of one of the people who’d harassed her. Samantha, no last name. Might that help?”
“It might. Thanks.”
“No problem. Now back to doing what we were trained for, eh? Nice to meet you, Alex.”
CHAPTER
8
Walking to the Seville, I thought about the question mark in the pizza box. An old case I’d forgotten.
Milo had assumed a taunt but maybe a question really had been posed. I called his office. He said, “You get an appointment with that shrink?”
“Just finished meeting with him.” I summed up.
“Post-traumatic hoohah and a bully named Samantha? It’s a start, thank you, Doctor.”
“Unfortunately, Shacker’s bound by a confidentiality clause, couldn’t tell me what company Vita worked for.”
He said, “Well-Start Health Management and Assurance. ‘Your well-being is where we start.’ ”
“Oh.”
“Found some of her papers tucked in a kitchen cabinet, including five years of tax returns. She spent two of them at Well-Start, did temp office jobs before that, averaged around thirty G a year. Last year she deposited five hundred eighty-three G in a brokerage account, which threw me, but now it makes sense: a fat, onetime settlement. The money’s been sitting in preferred stock paying around six percent interest. A little over thirty-three G a year, so she was getting paid more not to work.”
I said, “It sounds like a job she could’ve enjoyed.”
He said, “The chance to torment people every day? Fits what we know about her. I’m gonna try and find this Samantha, work my way through everyone Vita accused of harassing her. Meanwhile Reed and Binchy are visiting
