Cheesecake sounds pretty darn good to me, too, and Bjorn and I spend a few minutes at the cake case, staring through the glass at the day’s choices and trying to decide what to get. Finally we settle into a booth and moments later our treats arrive: caramel pumpkin for Bjorn, and for me a delicious, melt-in-your-mouth lemon chiffon with a grilled cheese sandwich yet to come for dessert.
Jackie is the waitress again. I’m relieved when she greets Bjorn by name, letting me know that the two have met and I don’t have to worry about any awkward comments from Bjorn. When Jackie asks him how his health is doing, he dodges the question with a polite “Fine, thanks.”
I ask Jackie if her mother is on duty and she shakes her head. “She’s a little under the weather today,” she says. She hesitates a moment, looking nervous, then slides into the booth beside me and asks in a low voice, “Anything new on Shannon’s case?”
“Nothing concrete. They’ve arrested Erik but most of the evidence is circumstantial. He’s retained Lucien as his lawyer.”
“Well, that’s good,” she says, looking unconvinced. Mention of Lucien triggers a mixed reaction in most people. She leans closer to me and whispers, “Do you think he did it?”
I shake my head, swallowing a bite of my cheesecake. I look over and realize Bjorn has already scarfed down his slice, and decide I need to try to get him to drive as fast as he eats.
“No,” I tell Jackie. “I don’t think Erik did it. But there are some things that don’t add up.”
Jackie chews on her lip looking worried for a moment. Then she sees that my sandwich is up and goes over to get it. As I watch her walk, I’m once again struck by the feeling that something about her is different.
Before I can ponder it much, Bjorn says, “Do we have to talk about dead people? When you get to be my age, it’s kind of an uncomfortable subject, you know.”
“Sorry,” I say.
“Besides, I thought you just came here for some cheesecake. Speaking of which, when am I going to get mine?”
“You already ate it.”
He turns and glares at me. “I think I’d know if I just ate a piece of cheesecake, missy.”
“You did, Bjorn. Look, there’s your empty plate in front of you. See the crumbs?”
Jackie returns and hands me my sandwich. Bjorn, who is staring at his plate with a puzzled expression, shrugs and says to Jackie, “Best bring me another piece then.”
Jackie leaves to fetch Bjorn’s second piece of cheesecake while I bite into my sandwich, relishing the mixed flavors of fresh cheese and butter.
As soon as Jackie brings Bjorn his second piece of cheesecake, he stabs a chunk of it onto his fork and waves it at us. “If you ask me,” he says, “the husband did it. I watch that crime channel on cable all the time. You know the one, with all the court cases and forensic shows? It’s fascinating stuff, but the outcomes are pretty predictable. Nine times out of ten it’s the spouse.”
“Erik was pretty jealous,” Jackie adds, sounding as if she’s trying to convince us. “So I guess it would be foolish to rule him out too quickly.”
She turns to leave but I say, “Wait a second,” and grab her arm to stop her. I can feel the ridges of her scars beneath her sleeve, and when she looks back at me with an expression of panic, I release my grip. “Sorry,” I say looking apologetic. “But there’s one more thing I wanted to ask you. Do you know that new psychiatrist in town, Luke Nelson, the man Shannon was dating?”
Jackie glances nervously over her shoulder and I’m not sure if it’s to see what’s going on in the rest of the place, or if it’s to see if anyone else is listening. Finally she nods and says, “He’s been in here a few times. He likes our Very Berry ice cream.”
Maybe there’s hope for the guy after all, I think, finishing off the first half of my sandwich and grabbing the rest. The Very Berry is excellent.
“How did he and Shannon get along?”
Jackie frowns. “Okay, I guess,” she says with a shrug. “I never saw them argue or anything. But they never showed much affection, either,” she adds quickly. She looks around again, her eyes blinking fast, her hands stuffed inside the pockets of her apron, jingling her tip change. “If you’ll excuse me,” she says biting her lip again, “I need to make a dash to the ladies’ room. You guys have a good one, eh?”
She is gone in a flash and her reaction to the last line of questioning leaves me wondering if there is more to her knowledge of Luke Nelson than she let on. Determined to find out, I fish some cash out of my purse, slide it across the table to Bjorn, and ask him to pay for our meal. Then I head into the ladies’ room, eating the remains of my sandwich along the way.
I find Jackie standing in front of one of the sinks, staring at herself in the mirror. I move beside her and check out my own reflection, horrified when I see what a mess my hair is and the faint reddish discoloration on my right cheek—most likely from the strawberry jam—that looks like a faint port-wine stain birthmark.
“I thought you might come in here,” Jackie says, as I dampen a paper towel and try to wash the red off my face.
“I’m sorry, Jackie. I don’t mean to impose, but I want to find out what happened to Shannon and make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”
She nods wearily, squeezes her eyes closed, and sighs heavily. Her hands have a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the sink.
“Are you a patient of Luke Nelson’s?” I ask as gently as I can.
She turns and looks at me with a startled expression, like a deer caught in headlights. Then a montage of emotions flit across her face: surprise, curiosity, and then relief. “Yes, I am,” she says finally, sighing. “I’m not crazy or anything. It’s just that . . . well . . . this . . .” She waves her hand around the scarred side of her face and I nod sympathetically. “And then to top it off, my mother was just diagnosed with breast cancer, which means I’m at risk, too.”
“Oh, crap, Jackie. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“No reason you should since you don’t work at the hospital anymore, but between trying to hold down the fort here and at home, worrying about Mom’s health, and dealing with my dad . . . well . . . it does stress me out at times.”
“That’s perfectly understandable. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
She casts a wary look at me. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? I don’t want anyone to know I’m seeing a shrink. People jump to conclusions. I don’t want everyone in town knowing about my personal life. You know how it is.” Boy, do I. “No one knows I’ve been going to Dr. Nelson, not even my family.”
“And I won’t tell them,” I assure her. “But I would like to ask you a couple of questions, just between us.”
Her shoulders sag in resignation. “Go ahead.”
“Did you see Dr. Nelson on Friday at all?”
She thinks for a minute, then nods. “I had an appointment with him at two o’clock.”
I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize that her appointment is outside the time frame needed to verify Nelson’s alibi, which means I have no need to share the information with anyone else. So I move on to my next inquiry.
“What do you think of him? Is he helping you?”
For a moment her face takes on an almost beatific expression. Then she shrugs. “I guess so.”
“What does he do for you?”
“We just talk mostly,” she says, her cheeks flushing pink. “He’s a very good listener and that seems to help me.” She looks down at her hands and starts picking at a cuticle. “Why so many questions about him?’ she asks.
I can see how uncomfortable she is with the topic and figure it’s either because she’s still worried that I will share her information with others, or that too much rumor and speculation will chase Luke Nelson away. Patients do tend to develop strong attachments to their shrinks. Sensing that I’ve pushed her as far as I can, I say, “I’m trying to get a feel for all the people in Shannon’s life, that’s all. And I promise that what you’ve told me will stay between us. I’m sorry I had to pry.”