Shadow of a Broken Man

'There's at least one policeman who's very anxious to solve the case, but he needs more information. If you want, I'll relay anything you tell me to him.'

'Why isn't he here himself?'

'This is out of his jurisdiction. He's a New York City policeman.'

She turned her face away for a moment. 'Would you like a martini?' she asked quietly. 'It's the maid's day off, and that's the only thing I know how to make.'

'All right, Mrs. Vahanian. Thank you.'

She disappeared into the house and returned a few minutes later with a glass. She walked very slowly, as if carrying an invisible burden I'd brought to her. I filled the glass, then set it down on the table.

'What do you want to know?' she whispered.

'Anything and everything you can remember about the relationship between Victor Rafferty and your first husband. Were they friends before the car accident?'

'Oh, yes. They were both very famous men in their own right. Arthur was a neurosurgeon, so it was only natural that he take Victor as his patient after the accident. Arthur told me that it was one of the worst skull fractures he'd ever seen in which the victim had lived. Part of the skull was literally pulverized, and the brain area beneath was damaged.'

She paused and emptied her glass, started to pour a refill, thought better of it. She set the pitcher down and moved away from the table. 'Arthur was sure Victor would die. He never said so, but I'm almost positive that he wanted to let Victor die on the operating table. He just… couldn't do that. Every second Victor lived after that horrible accident was considered a miracle. Anyway, Arthur did a series of operations. He stopped the hemorrhaging, then replaced the missing skull section with a steel plate.' She plucked nervously at her print skirt. 'After that, Arthur was afraid that Victor would live.'

'Why?'

'Brain damage is irreversible, and it's dysfunctional: it destroys the capacities of the brain. Arthur was certain that Victor, if he did survive, would be nothing more than a vegetable, kept alive only by machines. Arthur didn't want that for Victor.'

'But it obviously didn't work out that way.'

'It certainly didn't. For a while it seemed that half the doctors in the world were asking for permission to come and observe Victor Rafferty. Victor was still very weak, of course, and Arthur put him on an exercise program to build up his body. There didn't seem to be anything at all the matter with his brain. That was the amazing thing. Arthur couldn't get over that. For all intents and purposes, Victor seemed to be on the way to complete recovery. Then… something happened.'

'What was that, Mrs. Vahanian?'

'I don't really know. Arthur became very close-mouthed about it. It started with a telephone call he received one night from Victor.'

'Did he tell you what Rafferty said?' I asked.

'No. Arthur did mention something about hallucinations, but he didn't seem to take it too seriously. At first.'

'But he did later?'

'Yes,' she said tightly. 'Victor telephoned one afternoon about a week after the first call. Arthur wasn't here, so I took the call. Victor sounded very upset, but coherent. He said he had to talk to Arthur. When Arthur came home he called Victor back, and I believe they made an appointment to meet that evening. Also-and I'm not sure this is related-Arthur called one of his colleagues, Dr. Mary Llewellyn. She's a clinical psychologist with offices in the same professional building. I remember because Arthur asked me to help him find his professional directory. Dr. Llewellyn had an unlisted phone number, and he had to reach her at home. I believe he called her just before he left the house to meet Victor.'

'Did he say why he wanted to talk to her?'

'No.'

'But you think he wanted this Dr. Llewellyn to meet with him and Rafferty?'

'I really don't know.' She walked back to the table, poured another drink, and sipped at it. 'As I said, I'm not certain the one thing had anything to do with the other. I just mentioned it because I do remember it happening. Anyway, Arthur was very upset when he got home.'

'How upset?'

She smiled wryly. 'It was always hard to tell with Arthur. He was a stoic type who didn't like to let his feelings show. I suppose that's why he and Victor got on so well; both could seem like pretty cold fish.'

'I've heard that about Rafferty.'

She glanced up sharply. 'If that's all you've heard about Victor, then you don't have the whole story.'

'Victor Rafferty is a hard man to get a fix on, Mrs. Vahanian. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me more.'

She dabbed at her eyes, then laughed wanly. 'The man loved cheap hamburgers. He could afford to eat filet mignon three times a day, but he ate fast-food hamburgers. Isn't that strange?'

'Some people might think so, Mrs. Vahanian. I'm more interested in other things.'

It was a long time before she spoke again. 'It's true that Victor could be cold and aloof. He was also terribly absent- minded about things that didn't involve his work. He was the kind of man who didn't really need other people in a personal way; because he didn't need them, he didn't really have time for them. But that doesn't mean he didn't care about them. What most people don't realize is that Victor had a real social consciousness. He did a great deal of volunteer work for the U.N.'

'I've heard that, too.'

'All right, I suppose you could say he loved mankind in the abstract more than he loved individuals; but that's no crime, is it?'

'No, it isn't, Mrs. Vahanian. Please go on.'

'Where was I?'

'Dr. Morton was very upset after he returned from a meeting with Rafferty.'

'Oh, yes. He was distracted. I could tell that. It was very late when he got back, but I always woke up when he came home. But instead of coming to bed, he stayed awake for hours, pacing back and forth in his study. I went down once to see if he wanted to talk, but he shooed me back to bed. I finally went to sleep, but I don't think he went to bed at all that night. At the time I thought he was simply worried about Victor's condition. Now I believe it was much more than that.'

She stared at a point in space just over my head, listening to the voices in a movie from the past. 'Arthur canceled all his appointments for the next few days,' she continued. 'And he postponed his operations, except for the most urgent. He spent a great deal of time down in his study, and slept very little. Dr. Llewellyn called once, and I'm sure they argued over the phone. I heard Arthur talking loudly, but I couldn't tell what he was saying.' She paused. 'He also bought a lot of books.'

'What kind of books?'

'Oh, they were mostly medical books with long titles. But there was one book he used a lot. It had a single- word title: Psychology-something, or something-Psychology. Yes. It had a P in front of it.'

'Psychology has a P in front of it,' I prompted.

'No, this was a longer word with a P in front of it.' She strained to remember, then shook her head in resignation. 'Anyway, Arthur spent hours on end with those books.'

'He never said why?'

'No. But it was almost as if he were … studying. I think he was trying to understand something.'

I watched Mrs. Vahanian. The pain of memory moved back and forth across her green eyes in waves. 'Tell me about the night he was murdered, if you will, Mrs. Vahanian.'

She trembled slightly, then set her drink down beside mine. 'I'm afraid there isn't much to tell,' she said distantly. 'Arthur was so disturbed by. . all this. In the middle of the night he simply decided he wanted to go to his office.'

'Could a meeting have been arranged for that hour?'

'I can't see how. Arthur hadn't set his alarm; he just woke up. It must have been around two thirty. I woke up and asked him what he was doing. He said he couldn't sleep and wanted to go down to his office. That was the