“If she was, she didn’t show it. I made up a story about running out of toilet paper and going under the sink for a fresh roll. She apologized for not being a better housekeeper.”
“Eager to please, huh? The boys back in South Carolina sure took advantage of it.”
“Or she gets people to do what she wants by playing dumb and passive. I didn’t walk out of that house feeling in control.”
“Ye olde bathroom detective. Sounds like you’re ready for the Vice Squad.”
“I’ll pass. The whole thing was surreal. Not that I was doing much good as a therapist.”
I told him how Cindy had thrust Cassie at me, and Cassie’s subsequent panic.
“Up till then my rapport with Cassie had been progressing pretty well. Now, it’s shot to hell, Milo. So I have to wonder if Cindy was deliberately trying to sabotage me.”
“Waltzing and leading, huh?”
“Something she told me suggests that control is a big issue for her. When she was a kid, the aunt wouldn’t let her eat any sweets at all, even though there was nothing wrong with her pancreas. That’s a far cry from Munchausen, but there is a hint of pathology there — not allowing a healthy child to have an occasional ice cream.”
“Aunt projecting the diabetes onto her?”
“Exactly. And who knows if there were other aspects of the disease the aunt projected — like injections. Not insulin, but maybe some kind of vitamin shots. I’m just guessing. Cindy also told me that she restricts Cassie’s sweets. At face value, that sounds like good mothering. Reasonable health-consciousness from someone who’s already lost one child. But maybe there’s a whole weird thing going on with regard to sugar.”
“Sins of the mothers,” he said.
“The aunt was Cindy’s functional mother. And look at the role model she provided: a health professional who had a chronic disease and controlled it — Cindy spoke of that with pride. She may have grown up associating being female — being maternal — with being sick and emotionally rigid: controlled and controlling. It’s no surprise she chose the military right after high school — from one structured environment to another. When that didn’t work out, her next step was respiratory tech school. Because Aunt Harriet told her it was a good profession. Control and illness — it keeps repeating itself.”
“She ever mention why she didn’t finish respiratory tech school?”
“No. What are you thinking — more promiscuity?”
“I’m a big believer in patterns. What’d she do after that?”
“Junior college. Where she met Chip. She dropped out, got married. Got pregnant right away — more big changes that might have made her feel out of control. The marriage was a step up for her socially, but she ended up living in a very lonely place.”
I described Dunbar Court and the surrounding tract.
“Slow death for someone who craves attention, Milo. And when Chip gets home, I’ll bet the situation doesn’t change much. He’s really into the academic life — big fish in a small pond. I dropped by the J.C. before I went to the house and caught a glimpse of him teaching. Guru on the grass, disciples at his feet. A whole world she’s not part of. The house reflects it — room after room of his books, his trophies, masculine furniture. Even in her own home she hasn’t made an imprint.”
“So she makes an imprint on the kid.”
“Using familiar tools, things she remembers from her childhood. Insulin, needles. Other poisons — manipulating what goes into Cassie’s mouth the same way her aunt controlled her.”
“What about Chad?”
“Maybe he actually did die of SIDS — yet another traumatic illness in Cindy’s life — and that was the stress that drove her over the edge. Or maybe she smothered him.”
“You think your finding the cylinders will scare her off?”
“That would be logical, but with Munchausen, the whole power game, I suppose it could do just the opposite — raise the ante, challenge her to get the better of me. So maybe I just made things more dangerous for Cassie — hell if I know.”
“Don’t flog yourself. Where are the cylinders now?”
“Right here. In the car. Can you have them dusted for prints?”
“Sure, but Cindy’s or Chip’s prints on it wouldn’t mean much — one of them stashed it years ago and forgot about it.”
“What about the lack of dust?”
“It’s a clean cabinet. Or you knocked off whatever dust was on it when you took it out. I’m talking like a defense attorney now, though we’re not even close to making anyone need one. And if this Benedict guy touched it, that’s cool too. They were sent to him in the first place.”
“With the aunt dead, there’d be no reason for him to give them to Cindy.”
“True. If we can pin down this shipment to him after the aunt died, that would be great. Any serial numbers on the things? Or an invoice?”
“Let me check... no invoice. But there are serial numbers. And the copyright on the manufacturer’s brochure is five years old.”
“Good. Give me those numbers and I’ll get on it. In the meantime, I still think your best bet is to continue playing with Cindy’s head. Give her a taste of her own medicine.”
“How?”
“Pull her in for a meeting, without the kid—”
“That’s already set up for tomorrow evening. Chip’ll be there too.”
“Even better. Confront her, straight on. Tell her you think someone is making Cassie sick and you know how. Hold up a cylinder and say you’re not buying any of this leftover crap. You want to take chances, go for a big bluff: say you’ve talked to the D.A. and he’s ready to file charges for attempted murder. Then pray she cracks.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“You get thrown off the case, but at least she’ll know someone’s wise to her. I don’t see what you can gain by waiting any longer, Alex.”
“What about Stephanie? Do I clue her in? Are we eliminating her as a suspect?”
“Like we said before, she could be Cindy’s secret lover, but there’s no sign of that. And if she was involved, why would Cindy mess with Benedict? Stephanie’s a doctor — she could get the same stuff he could. Anything’s possible, but far as I can tell, the mom started out looking good and she keeps getting better.”
“If Stephanie’s off the hook,” I said, “I should let her in on it — she’s the primary doc. Pulling something this strong without her knowledge is probably unethical.”
“Why don’t you just sound her out and see how she reacts? Tell her about the cylinders and see where she goes with it. If you’re satisfied she’s clean, take her along with you when you play with Cindy’s head. Strength in numbers.”
“Play with her head? Sounds fun.”
“It rarely is,” he said. “If I could do it for you, I would.”
“Thanks. For everything.”
“Anything else?”
Finding the Insujects had pushed the visit to Dr. Janos’s office out of my head.
“Plenty,” I said, and told him how Huenengarth had beat me to Dawn Herbert’s computer disks. Then I threw in my calls to Ferris Dixon and Professor W. W. Zimberg’s office, and my updated blackmail theories on Herbert and Ashmore.
“High intrigue, Alex — maybe some of it’s even true. But don’t let yourself get distracted from Cassie. I’m still checking on Huenengarth. Nothing yet, but I’ll stay on it. Where will you be in case something does come up?”
“I’ll call Stephanie soon as we hang up. If she’s in her office I’ll run over to the hospital. If not, I’ll be home.”