“Ever tell you what that was?” Baxter asked.
“I’m afraid not. I tried not to push her. I wasn’t her shrink, after all. I knew she’d tell me when she was ready. What I’m saying is-she was dealing with it. She was coping. There was absolutely no indication that she was at her wit’s end.”
Mike considered. “I got a lawyer friend who saw her the day she died. He says she made a big confession to him about… something she said at the trial.”
“But that again is an indication that she was dealing.” Harris looked down, shaking his head. “I just don’t believe she would kill herself.”
“Maybe that’s because you don’t want to believe it,” Mike said. “Sounds to me as if you rather liked Erin.”
“Of course I liked her. Who wouldn’t? She was a survivor. A real one-not some media fool who won a game show. Someone who had been through an experience that would’ve killed most of us. Someone who conquered her fears and was functioning as a useful productive human being. Who wouldn’t admire that?”
Mike had to concede the point. “I don’t know what I’d have done if that had happened to my family. If I’d lost all the people I love and cherish most.”
Harris looked up abruptly. “Well, except-oh, of course. You’re right.”
Baxter stepped in. “What? What was that?”
“Nothing. You’re right. I agree.”
She positioned herself directly in front of Harris. An obvious intimidation move, but Mike had noticed Baxter didn’t exactly shy away from those. “Is there something else? Something else that happened to Erin?”
“I-I don’t know what you mean.”
Baxter grabbed him by the lapel. “You’re hiding something. Tell me. Now!”
The proximity of her hand to his voice box made it difficult for Harris to speak. “I just-I sensed there were some… issues. Between Erin and her father.”
“Her father has been dead for seven years!”
“I know. Before that.”
“Stop playing games! What do you know?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all!”
“Listen to me, you little quack. I got a twenty-two-year-old woman dead. I don’t believe she killed herself any more than you do, and if you know something that could help us figure out who did, you will tell me. Do you understand?” She leaned close, nose to nose. “You will tell me!”
“I don’t know anything! I don’t!” Given the panicked expression on his face, Mike couldn’t imagine that he was lying. “I just sensed that she had some problems that she was still dealing with. Have you talked to her shrink?”
“Yes. And she didn’t say anything about Erin’s father.”
“Well… maybe you should talk to her again.”
Baxter released the doctor with a little push. “Maybe we’ll do that.” She turned abruptly. “Are you ready to go, Morelli?”
“Yeah, just about. One more question, though.” He turned toward Harris. “Mind if I ask how you got started on this candling gig? I mean-I’ve checked you out. You’re a real doctor. Graduated with good grades from OU Med. Used to work at a well-respected clinic. I found no evidence of scandal or complaint.” Mike shrugged. “What the hell happened to you?”
Harris’s lips remained tight. He was obviously weighing all the alternatives, evaluating whether he wanted to speak or not.
“You know that clinic I was at?” he said finally.
“Yeah. Over in Brookside.”
Harris nodded. “That was an HMO. HMOs believe in many things. Health, welfare, prevention. But what they believe in most is low overhead.”
“Go on.”
“They decided the best way to cut costs would be to have every doc specialize. Everyone was to have one chore they did well and efficiently. That would streamline the medical examinations.”
“Okay. So?”
“So… I drew rectal examinations.”
Mike’s lips parted wordlessly.
“Some career, huh? You start at the bottom-and you stay there.”
Mike tried really hard not to smile.
“I’d see some forty or fifty patients a day. Think about that-fifty big hairy butts a day, one right after another.”
“That would be… different.”
“Yeah. And of course, no one enjoyed or appreciated my work. No smiles, no chitchat. It’s worse than seeing the dentist. No one wants to talk when the doc is feeling up their butt. Although I did get the occasional twenty-one-gun salute.”
“Excuse me?”
“Farts. They can’t help themselves. They get nervous, and…”
Mike slapped his hands together. “Well, this is fascinating, but-”
“I was miserable at the office parties. All the other docs started calling me the Rear Admiral. Ha, ha. At cocktail parties, everyone wanted to tell me about their hemorrhoids. I mean, I went to school for years to become a doctor. I spent a fortune. And I was doing important work-colorectal cancer is a major killer. But no one else saw it that way.”
“So you quit.”
“I went out on my own. But do you have any idea how hard it is to get a solo practice going these days? I think some people have the idea that anyone who graduates from med school ends up rich a day after graduation. But it isn’t true. Not these days. Particularly not in a competitive market like Tulsa that’s already saturated with physicians. It’s hard to make a living. And you’re a slave to the insurance companies.”
“So you started in with ear candling?”
“It was just a hook. Something different. Something to attract the attention of… you know. Well-to-do women.”
“And it worked?”
“I’m eating regularly. I like all my clients. I can work out of my home. I have virtually no overhead. I don’t have to deal with insurance companies or Medicare. And best of all, I don’t have to answer to some money-grubbing HMO.”
“Yeah,” Baxter said. “If only your work wasn’t total quackery, it would be perfect.” She grabbed Mike’s arm. “Okay, Morelli. We’ve heard the doctor’s oh-so-sad story. Can we go now? This guy is stressing me out.”
“I could help,” Harris volunteered. “I give great candle.”
Baxter flashed him a look that defied description. “Pass.”
“First of all,” Ben said, standing at the head of the conference table, “I want to thank you for all your work. I know it’s not easy bringing fresh enthusiasm to a case that’s been around so long, but you’ve given me 110 percent just the same, and I really appreciate it.”
Jones, Loving, and Christina sat around the long table. Loving spoke first. “Why do I think there’s a but comin’?”