challenge to discover what lay beneath them.
Hannah was at lunch, so it was Rita who buzzed Blank up ten minutes later, precisely on time, as usual, for his appointment.
He was wearing a light tan sport jacket today, dark brown slacks, and a pale blue shirt open at the collar. There was a diamond ring that might be expensive on the middle finger of his left hand. His watch was gold, but looked antique and was of a make unfamiliar to Rita. There was no way for her to hazard an intelligent guess at David Blank’s wealth, but he must be comfortably fixed or he couldn’t afford her.
He gave her his warm smile and nodded. “How are you, Dr. Maxwell?”
“Fine, David. Shall we begin?”
His smile became a wide grin. “The clock is running, Doctor.”
He settled into the leather recliner while she came out from around her desk and took her usual place in a nearby wing chair. Though there was a comfortable sofa in the office, Blank declined to use it, saying he didn’t feel like being a stereotypical patient lying down alongside his shrink. So he used the reclining lounge chair, setting it back halfway so he was half sitting, half lying.
“Where were we,” he asked, “when we were so rudely interrupted by the rush of time?”
“Montana,” Rita said. She switched on her tape recorder. She taped all her sessions, with her patients’ knowledge and approval. It was easier and more beneficial than taking notes.
She recited all the pertinent information, along with time and date, to catalog the tape, then began the session.
“Ah, Montana…,” Blank said.
Rita waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “At the end of our last session,” she reminded him, “you were twelve and had been sexually molested by the wife of the rancher who hired you to learn to herd cattle.”
“The state agency got me away from there,” Blank said, “only to place me a month later in a foster home where my guardians had the idea that any infraction of their rules meant severe punishment.”
“What kind of punishment?” Rita asked dutifully. She had a notepad and pen and pretended to take notes to supplement the tapes. The note taking seemed to comfort her patients. Actually, it gave her something to do and allowed for a certain detachment that kept her patients talking.
“They denied us solid food.”
“Us?”
“There were three other foster children besides myself.”
“Where was this, David? You didn’t mention.”
“A farm in Illinois.”
“What did they grow there?”
“Corn, soybeans, alfalfa.”
Rita made some meaningless squiggles on her notepad.
“One time, just for skipping school, I was denied solid food for three days.” Blank sounded justifiably outraged.
“Didn’t you have a chance to complain to your caseworker?”
“Hah! My so-called caseworker was more interested in getting into my pants than anything else.”
Ho, boy! Rita thought. And began taking her mock notes faster, feigning interest.
“Can you tell me why some women are like that?” Blank asked. “I mean, I was only thirteen at the time.”
“Were you big for your age, David?”
“Jesus, Doctor!”
Rita blushed. He’d managed to embarrass her, which didn’t happen often. “You know that wasn’t what I meant, David.”
“Do you know the answer to my question,” he persisted, “about why some women are interested in young boys?”
“There are different reasons. Why don’t you tell me about this caseworker, and maybe I can shine some light on her particular motivation. She might be a very important person in your life. You didn’t mention her name.”
“No, I didn’t. And I wouldn’t describe her as having motivation. It was more like a compulsion.”
“True. You’re right. It was probably a compulsion.” If it ever happened. She locked gazes with him. “Are you interested in compulsive behavior, David?”
“Sure. You might say that’s one reason I’m here.”
“So tell me the other reasons.”
“Let me tell you what it’s like to be twelve years old and go three days living on nothing but water.”
“I thought you wanted to talk about the amorous caseworker.”
“This was a year before that. You can swell your stomach with water, but it isn’t like food.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“Oh, sure.”
“Sure what?”
“The amorous caseworker.”
For a few seconds he was in control of the session, and he handed control back to me.
Which means he’s really in charge.
He did tell her about his relationship with the caseworker. About trysts in the barn, in the woman’s car, in the farmhouse when there was no one else home. The caseworker had been interested in sadomasochism and bestiality, and forced all sorts of aberrant behavior on the young David Blank. “If it was abnormal sex, she was into it,” he said bitterly.
“I don’t know if there is such a thing as abnormal sex,” Rita said. “There’s a wide spectrum of human behavior.”
He sat up slightly and gave her a sharp look. “I guess you’re right, but this kind of stuff was really over the edge.”
He continued telling her in minute detail about what he and the caseworker had done all those years ago in the quiet farmhouse or in the hot, buzzing barn that smelled of hay and manure. He had a great imagination.
Rita let him talk, barely listening. The recorder would pick it all up and preserve it for later contemplation. It was lies, anyway, she was sure. Camouflage for…something. And eventually she’d discover what.
He stayed on the subject for the rest of his appointment, playing his game with her, rambling on at $300 per hour.
Making me earn my money.
She smiled slightly. He couldn’t verbally dance and dart and dodge forever. She was patient and wily. She would beat him at this nimble game of deception.
But one thing bothered her a great deal: she was sure he knew she knew he was lying, and he didn’t seem to care. That made it more difficult for her to figure out his reasons for coming into analysis. If he were simply going through a charade that even he knew was too obvious, why would he waste his time and hers?
Rita did know that David Blank, whoever he was, wasn’t the sort to waste time or anything else.
Between appointments, or in the early-morning hours when she couldn’t sleep, she found herself wondering about her mysterious patient, worrying the puzzle and getting nowhere. Sometimes it seemed he was the analyst and she the patient, though the reasons for this were just beyond her comprehension.
But Rita’s confidence was unwavering.
Sooner or later she’d meet the real David Blank.
And know his reason for coming to her.
Mary Navarre and Donald Baines had just seen Hail to the Chef on Broadway and then had a late-night snack at a diner on West Forty-fourth Street. They were still in a good mood from the hit musical comedy when Donald keyed the apartment door, reached in, and flipped the light switch. Then he stood aside to let Mary enter first.
It was still one of her great pleasures to enter the recently decorated apartment, to see the expensive neutral leather furniture, the art on the walls, the retro slat-blinds window treatments. She would pause inside the door and let her glance take it all in before continuing her entrance.
But this time her gaze didn’t stray but went directly to the white box on the sofa cushion. Not only didn’t she know what it was, she was sure it hadn’t been there when they left for the theater.
