"You're right about that, A. J. This"-I waved at the screen- "doesn't seem exactly up my alley."
"Does either of you remember the case? These two murders? You both lived in Colorado back then, didn't you? " Lauren didn't respond. I said, "I remember it vaguely. Crimes back then didn't get the coverage they do now. My memory is that there was a little splash when the girls disappeared, a big splash when the bodies were found, then the fanfare kind of faded away when no suspect was identified." A. J. said, "Well I wasn't there, of course, but that summary doesn't exactly surprise me. Do you mind if we sit?"
Lauren said, "Let's. Please."
A. J. moved around the seats and took the chair that Russ Claven had occupied.
"Obviously, your participation in this inquiry was my idea. Please be assured that I wanted both of you to be involved. Lauren, your role is easier to define.
It's typical for us to find a consultant in a local prosecutor's office to provide guidance for us on local legal customs. Okay?" Lauren nodded.
"Alan, your role is less circumscribed. I suggested you for two reasons. First, it is clear to all of us on the committee that screens new cases that too little is known about the pre morbid history of these two girls. At the time the bodies were discovered the local police approached the investigation as though they were looking for an opportunistic killer, either a serial killer, or a drifter, or whatever. They never adequately explored the possibility that there might have been a reason that these two girls collided with this killer, or killers.
My own bias is that if you don't explore something, you can't rule it out.
"What I'm talking about, obviously, is a variant of a psychological autopsy.
Typically, doing a psychological autopsy of these two girls would be my role.
But I'm currently… unwell, physically unwell… and not in a position to do the traveling necessary to accomplish the tasks that are required to assemble such a profile. Based on our work together last year, I think you, Alan, have the skills and the demeanor to help me do it."
I found myself slowly inhaling, overfilling my lungs. I wasn't sure why. I didn't speak.
"But that's only part of it. The second reason I wanted you on board is that we already know that the background of one of the girls- Mariko-included a stint in psychotherapy with a psychologist who was practicing back then in Steamboat Springs. We're going to need to acquire permission from her family to get access to those treatment records. And someone is going to need to interview the psychologist who treated her to see what he can tell us about this young girl."
Lauren was a step ahead of me. She said, "And you would rather that be somebody local?" A. J. said, "Exactly."
During the sojourn the prior year when she was trying to protect me from a killer, A. J. and I had gone a few rounds over the necessity of the confidentiality of treatment records, so I pressed her on that issue.
"Do you have any reason to expect that her family will deny us access to their daughter's treatment records?"
"We don't really know. Locard's assistance on the case was requested by the new police chief of Steamboat Springs and by the family of Tami Franklin. The Hamamoto family no longer lives in the area-in fact they no longer live in the United States. Obviously we're anticipating cooperation, but those contacts are yet to be made."
I remained confused.
"Why do you want a local psychologist to make the inquiries? I don't exactly follow."
"Surprisingly enough, the answer is political." She assessed our faces to see if either of us had guessed what she was referring to. When neither Lauren nor I responded, A. J. continued.
"Why politics? Because it turns out that the psychologist that Mariko Hamamoto was seeing for psychotherapy in Steamboat Springs was Dr. Raymond Welle. That's why this thing is so damn political." I said, "Representative Raymond Welle? That Dr. Welle?"
Before A. J. had a chance to respond Lauren's hand jumped up to cover her mouth and she emitted a little squeak from deep in her throat.
I explained, "She knows him. Raymond Welle."
My wife swallowed, exhaled once, inhaled once, and said, "Actually I was related to him. Kind of. Well, briefly."
A. J. looked my way before turning back to Lauren.
"We know about Lauren's first marriage. It came up when we were vetting the two of you. Welle was your brother-in-law, right?" Lauren said, "Yes My first husband's sister was married to Raymond Welle."
"So do you know him intimately?" A. J. asked.
"Does anybody?" Lauren replied. Before we had a chance to talk any further, A. J. was called away by Kimber Lister. Lauren and I grabbed sandwiches and drinks and returned to our seats.
Russ Claven didn't come back to join us. He was across the room, near the stage, his attention consumed by a woman with short, radiant bronze-red hair and a gold lame patch over her right eye. She was juggling a bottle of iced tea and a plate that was piled high with a sandwich and potato salad. She accomplished the buffet waltz with admirable agility. Claven said something that made her laugh and a narrow flash of teeth erupted into a wide smile that lit the room in a way that reminded me of the infectious smile I'd just seen on the snapshot of Tami Franklin.
Lauren was looking toward the woman, too. She said, "Cool patch, don't you think?"
"Definitely," I concurred.
"Has to be custom. Can't get one of those at Walgreens."
Without turning back to face me, Lauren said, "You know, I think A. J.'s MS is worse."
"The cane?"
"Sure. Her balance is bad, she's holding on to chairs when she walks. Something else is going on, too. I see it in her eyes."
Both Lauren and A. J. lived with multiple sclerosis. Although we had never discussed it with her, we both suspected that the form of the disease that A. J. struggled with was more virulent than Lauren's version.
I asked, "You still thinking she may have progressive disease?" I was describing the most dreaded form of the illness, the one that causes rapid deterioration without remission or recovery.
Absently, Lauren caressed a stretch of skin on her shoulder that had recently gone numb.
"God, I hope not. But she's lost weight, don't you think?" Without waiting for my reply, she asked, "What do you think about the case?"
I shrugged.
"It's interesting. The forensics seem fascinating. I'd be more comfortable with my part of it if it didn't involve my needing to interview Raymond Welle. How well did you know him? Did you and Jake spend much time with him and his wife?"
"You know, we didn't see them very much. Jacob's family wasn't… close… and Raymond and Gloria were up in Steamboat most of the time we were in Denver.
Jacob's father wasn't very tolerant of Raymond, so he and Gloria tended to stay out of the city. Jake and I skied with them once for a long weekend, but I spent more time with Gloria than I did with Raymond."
"What was your impression of him?"
"Raymond? He was as shallow as they come. Always trying to pump himself up so he'd have some stature in the family. Given Jake's family, and all they've accomplished, that wasn't easy. Being around Raymond was painful for me. Gloria was self-absorbed in her own way, but at least there was an underlying generosity about her. She wanted to be kinder than she really was-you know what I mean? But she always did seem to manage to have enough energy to taunt her father. I think Raymond was part of that."