"Are you okay?" he said as he stepped inside and shucked off his coat.
"Yes. Sure. Of course. I'm fine."
Her assurances had all the depth of feeling of someone being held hostage. Instinctively, he glanced around the front room of the apartment.
"Anybody else here?"
"No. You want a drink?"
"Sure."
"Still scotch?"
"Uh-huh." Rob was disproportionately pleased she remembered.
"Good. Because that's all she's got."
"With a couple of rocks."
As Kara went to the kitchen counter, Rob stepped across the room for a quick look into the bedroom—a mess, like it had been pulled apart. How long had she been here? He followed her into the kitchen. He noticed a half-empty glass on the counter beside the Dewar's bottle.
"I see you've got a head start on me."
She poured some into a fresh glass for him and then a little more into her own.
"I've got a couple of laps on you," she said as she handed him his drink.
He looked at her eyes more closely.
"Yeah. I guess you do."
"But it doesn't help." She raised her glass. "Here's to the psychiatric profession." despite the dubious sincerity of the toast, Rob clinked his glass against hers and took a long pull on the drink. It felt good going down. Then they settled back and stood there in the kitchen under the fluorescent light, each leaning against different sections of the counter that ran at a right angles along two walls.
A vision flashed through Rob's mind—the two of them, married, standing here like this every night discussing the events of the day while dinner cooked— then was gone. But it left in its wake a bittersweet trace of a warmth that could have been.
He shook it off and looked at her.
"Don't let that Dr. Gates get you down too much, Kara. We'll get a subpoena for Kelly's records. It may take some time, but eventually—"
"He called me last night," she said. "Said he'd changed his mind. I went over there this morning and he told me the whole story—Kelly's complete case history."
"That's a real turn-around."
"I almost wish he hadn't."
Rob saw the misery in her eyes and realized she wasn't exaggerating.
"Want to talk about it?"
"No. Yes. I don't know. I just think maybe you should know what was going on in Kelly's head—what Dr. Gates says was going on in her head—in the months before she, uh, fell."
"It couldn't hurt, and it might help."
"Yeah. I guess so. Let's go inside and sit."
They were half way to the sofa when the buzzer sounded from downstairs.
"Who in the world—?" Kara said, and went to the speaker.
Someone named Ed was here. She seemed to know who he was and buzzed him up.
Rob gave Ed a quick once-over when he arrived: about five-eleven, pushing forty, brown hair, medium build, yuppyish. His eyes darted from Kara to Rob.
"Oh, sorry," he said. "If I've come at a bad time…?"
"No. Come on in," Kara said with a resigned tone. "Ed, meet Rob Harris. Rob, this is Ed, an old friend of Kelly's."
They shook hands and Rob noted that Ed's palm was moist.
"Nice to meet you, Ed," he said. "I didn't catch your last name."
"Uh, Bannion," he said.
Kara said, "Ed's a lawyer with Paramount. He's offered to help with any legal problems connected with Kelly." She turned to Ed. "And Rob's a detective with the New York Police. He's working on Kelly's case."
For an instant, Rob thought Ed's eyes were going to bulge out of their sockets.
"Oh," Ed said to him. "How interesting. Miss Wade, uh, Kara, told me you suspect foul play. Any, uh, suspects yet?"
"Not yet. But we're closing in on a couple of guys."
Ed's expression was tight, almost a mask.
"Really? Great! I, uh, hope you catch them soon."
"Only a matter of time. By the way, how did you know Kelly?"
"She was his mother's nurse when she was in the hospital," Kara said. She seemed impatient. "Ed, you might as well come in and hear this, too."
"You think that's wise, Kara?" Rob said.
He didn't know what Kara was going to say, but he felt he should hear it first. Plus, Kara's words were getting slurry and she looked a little unsteady on her feet. How many drinks had she had?
"I don't know if it's wise or not, but Ed thinks the world of Kelly and the way the papers treated the circumstances of her death you'd have thought she was a hooker or something. I just want to set the record straight, let him know that none of it was her doing. You want a drink, Ed?"
"Yes. Uh, no. No, maybe I'd better not."
Ed looked ready to jump out of his skin. Rob wondered why.
"All right," Kara said. "Let's sit down and I'll tell you all about it."
▼
A cop! Dear sweet Jesus an honest to God New York City detective!
Ed could feel his armpits growing steadily wetter as the perspiration poured out of him.
What am I doing here with a cop, for Christ's sake?
He really wanted that drink Kara had offered, but he didn't dare take it. He had to watch every word he said. No telling what might slip out if he started drinking. And besides, he didn't want to leave fingerprints anywhere. Kara had said the cops had fingerprints of the guys her sister had been with before she died.
Jesus! Why did I get myself involved in this?
He realized Kara was talking to him. If the round table were a clock, she would have been at noon, Ed at six, and the detective, Harris, at three.
"I spoke to my sister's psychiatrist today. I think you both ought to know what he told me."
Kara paused to take a sip of her drink and Ed realized that she was about two sheets to the wind. She appeared to be stretched to the breaking point.
"He told me that Kelly suffered from something called a multiple personality disorder."
"No kidding," Ed said. He'd read Sybil twice. He'd always found the subject fascinating. "I've heard that kind of thing's supposed to be very rare."
"Yeah, well,— Kelly had a second personality called Ingrid. She was the one doing all the crazy things, not Kelly."
Detective Harris sipped his own drink. " 'Ingrid?' That was the name she used at the Plaza that night."
Kara nodded. "Right." She turned to Ed. "That's why I wanted you to know. I didn't want you to think she was some sort of hypocrite playing Florence Nightingale in the daytime and Irma La Douce at night. She had a real problem and she was fighting it. I know she could have beaten it if she'd had more… time."
Her lips quivered and she bowed her head. Ed's heart damn near broke for her. And for the dead Kelly. Apparently she'd been a very troubled woman. Ed's stomach got queasy. He hadn't known she was mentally ill when he was… God, he'd been humping her, he'd even bitten her, some poor sick girl who didn't even know she was there.
He felt dirty.
"I understand," he said. He desperately wanted to lighten Kara's load. "But I never could think badly of your sister. No matter what."
He noticed Detective Harris staring at him. The cop nodded at Ed, as if to say, Thanks. Which was kind of strange. Was there something going on between these two?
He felt a compulsion to keep talking, to keep the silence at bay.
"But if I remember correctly from Sybil, don't most multiple personalities have abused childhoods?"
Immediately Ed knew he'd said the wrong thing. Kara slammed her glass on the table and was on her feet, glaring at him. Her face was livid.
"It never happened! Never! Don't you dare say that about my father!"