I looked at her to see if she was impressed. If she was, she was hiding it well. But no matter, I’d only just begun.
“You struggle to remain proper at all times,” I continued, pointing to her diploma. “You hide behind the name N. Crouch because you think Nadine pegs you as a hick from the sticks. You suffer from feelings of inadequacy because your contemporaries graduated from prestigious colleges while you were stuck at the University of Pittsburgh School Of Medicine. You feel you haven’t lived up to your potential.”
“Why’s that?”
“There are no books or articles on display, which means you’re unpublished. What kind of big money psychiatrist is unpublished at your age?”
N. Crouch pursed her lips. “I see,” she said. “Anything else?”
“Your sons are off in college or working and they don’t call as often as you’d like. To compensate, you keep two dogs as pets.”
“What,” she said. “Not the breed?”
I smiled. “Akitas,” I said. “Japanese dogs brought to our shores by returning American servicemen, after WW2. Twin dogs from the same litter.”
I bowed and sat back down on the leather throne chair. I may have smirked.
“That’s amazing, Mr. Creed,” she said. “Truly remarkable.”
“Why thank you, Ms. Crouch.”
She said, “You took all the evidence on display and managed to get every single fact wrong. Every fact but one.”
I smiled and said, “Bullshit.”
N. Crouch stood. “I’m in my early sixties, not fifties. I don’t think I’m smarter than my friends, though none have surpassed me professionally. The pictures on the desk are my sister’s adopted children. I’m not divorced because I’ve never been married. I’m not from the Midwest, I’m from Miami. My contemporaries didn’t graduate from prestigious colleges because psychiatrists graduate from medical schools, not colleges. Speaking of which, Pittsburgh Medical happens to be the number one medical school in the country. In 2005 alone they received one hundred and eighty NIHA’s—that’s National Institute of Health Awards—totaling more than seventy-six million dollars.
“And by the way,” she added, reaching into her lower desk drawer, “I don’t hide my first name and I
She stopped for a minute and said, “What are you grinning at? You look like the village idiot.”
Then it hit her.
“Shit,” she said. “You just got me to tell you all about myself.”
“Don’t take it too hard,” I said.
“You probably already knew about the book.”
“I Googled you before setting the appointment.”
“I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, Mr. Creed,” she said. “You’re quite the manipulator.”
“Thank you.”
“You take that as a compliment?”
“What’s the one thing?” I said.
She looked puzzled.
“You said I was wrong about everything but one.”
