Mary stuck out her hand.
“Mary Cooper,” she said.
“Jenni Mulderink,” the woman responded. She gestured toward a sitting area that included a couch, two chairs, a coffee table, and a small flat-screen television sitting on a black lacquered table. “I hope you were serious about this only taking a minute or two, because that’s all I’ve got.”
The apartment was bigger than Mary expected. Beyond the sitting area was a dining area separated from the kitchen by a half-wall. Mary could make out gourmet-looking appliances, white cupboards, and a bank of windows that filled the kitchen with natural light.
“I’ll do my best to make this quick,” Mary said.
“Thank you, my job is more important than ever,” Jenni Mulderink said. “Now that Craig is…gone.”
She had dark eyes that looked like they’d seen plenty of good times and bad.
“First, how long had you been in a relationship with Mr. Locher?” Mary asked.
“Three years.”
“Had his behavior changed at all recently? Anything unusual?”
The woman shook her head, and her long brown hair swung with the motion.
“No,” she said.
“Do you have any theories on what happened to him?”
For the first time, the woman paused. Seemed to consider the question. “Let me answer this as quickly and thoroughly as I can. Craig was a brilliant, but troubled man. He had created and sold several companies, was acting as a consultant for his latest venture, an Internet marketing and ideation firm. Over the years, he’d been in and out of rehab several times. He traveled everywhere, kept an insane, unusual schedule. So what I’m trying to say is that he did not lead a normal life by most of our usual standards. He was a charismatic guy.”
Her lip quivered and she wiped away a tear.
“Was his death a surprise?” Mary asked.
“The fact that he died an unusual death is not as big a surprise for someone like me,” Mulderink said. “Someone who knew how unique his life was.”
“So you don’t know what happened?”
Again, the head shake. “No. He’d had a couple of busy days, late meetings, hadn’t come home a couple times that week, which, again, wasn’t unusual. He would crash at the office, a hotel, even a friend’s house if there was a party and he didn’t feel like driving. So I hadn’t seen him for several days. But like I said, I wasn’t worried. Turns out, I should have been.”
Mary caught the note of self-blame.
“There was nothing you could have done,” Mary said, without any clue if that was true or not.
Mulderink shrugged her shoulders and checked her watch, prompting Mary to be quick with the next question.
“I know that in the past he was in therapy,” Mary asked. “Did you know if that was still the case?”
“I think he was, but he preferred not to talk about it. He always liked to keep the mood light, and I always got the sense that talking about his mental health was a big downer to him, so he would just change the subject as fast as he could.”
It looked like she was going to say more, and then she stopped herself.
The next question was the tricky one, but Mary knew she had to ask.
“I know there were some unusual circumstances surrounding Mr. Locher’s death. Do you know of any peculiar habits he may or may not have had? Fetishes involving diapers or costumes, that kind of thing?”
The woman sighed. “No. Of course not. The police asked me the same thing and I told them the truth. He wasn’t into any of that. Trust me, I know.”
Mary decided to let the issue drop. “Do you think you could do me a favor and call me if you think of anything strange or unusual that happened recently? Something that took you by surprise?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders. “I will, but I don’t think anything like that happened.” She paused again and then blurted out, “One time, in the car, we were driving and scanning the radio and there was a call-in show. It was a psychologist who was taking questions from the audience. Craig acted really weird, and I got the feeling that he knew the person — the doctor. But I can’t remember who it was.”
Outside in the hallway, a door opened and shut, a subdued voice began talking on a phone.
“Do you remember if the on-air psychologist was male or female?” Mary prodded.
Mulderink thought about it for a moment. “Male. Definitely a man.”
Mary was expecting that answer, but still glad that it wasn’t Dr. Blevins, her client. It meant Locher had sought treatment from someone new. Maybe because he had something else he wanted to talk about. Different issue, different therapist.
“What do you do for a living?” Mary said.
“I’m a product manager at a sports development center.”
She looked at Mary.
“I only agreed to talk to you because I haven’t heard anything from the police. Who hired you, by the way?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t divulge the name of my client,” Mary said. “But I can tell you that it is someone who knew Craig and cared about him, and who wants to make sure he gets justice.”
Jenni Mulderink nodded. “Everyone who knew Craig liked him,” she said. “He took the party with him, that’s for sure.” She smiled. “I’ll show you out now.”
“Okay,” Mary said. “But if you can think of anything, or remember the name of the doctor Craig was seeing, please, give me a call.”
Mary handed the woman her business card.
“I hope you find out who did it,” Mulderink said. “Craig was a good guy.”
She closed the door behind Mary, and Mary was pretty sure she heard the woman start to cry.
Chapter Eight
“I’ll have what she’s having, as long as it’s an ice cold beer,” Mary said, sliding onto the tall chair next to Alice. They were in the bar area of the Oasis Hotel in Santa Monica, a new, ultra-modern construction that featured only one attraction Mary cared for: a great view of the ocean.
Her aunt did not have a beer, instead, she had a chilled glass of chardonnay that caught the reflection from the water and cast a subtle glow to the older woman’s face.
“What are you on, number four or five?” Mary said. “Be careful, Jason might schedule an intervention for you.”
“That boy has had it,” Alice said. “We need to stage an intervention to stop him from staging interventions.”
The waiter brought Mary her beer, and she clinked glasses with Alice.
“Here’s to mud in your eyes and a stud between your thighs,” Mary said.
“Cute, Mary,” Alice said. “Real cute.”
“Okay, a cute stud.”
Alice sighed.
“So what are you working on these days?” Alice asked Mary. “Besides dealing with your old maid status?”
“Old maid? Who even uses that term anymore?”
“If the term fits…”
“I landed a new case,” Mary said. “The shrink who ran that intervention hired me to look into the death of one of her patients. Weird situation. The guy got stabbed to death. But he was wearing a diaper when he died.”
“What a way to go out,” Alice said. “Wearing your Depends. Had he shit himself?”
Mary’s beer tasted so good she drank half of it at once. She was going to remember this one.
“I didn’t ask if the diaper was empty or full,” Mary said.
“And you call yourself an investigator?” Alice asked. “How could you not pose that question? It’s the first thing I would ask.”