F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (14 page)

           
He blamed it on the uncanny
resemblance between the two sisters. For a moment there he'd actually thought
the dead woman had come back to haunt him. He'd been so shook up he'd given her
his real name. Idiot! After that, there was no turning back. Thank God he'd had
the foresight to prepare a little story ahead of time. Never could have made up
one on the spot.

           
And her talking about her dead
sister as if she were all sweetness and light, Florence Nightingale herself.
The little girl backed her up, too. Hard to believe they were talking about the
sex kitten he'd had in the Plaza last week.

           
But maybe… maybe they weren't. Maybe
they were talking about that frightened miserable woman he'd seen just before
she ran for the window.

           
And then the sister—the live one,
Kara—had dropped the bombshell: murder.

           
Murder!

           
He'd almost dropped his margarita!
Even now it sent a sick shudder through him. How could they think it was
murder? She went through that window entirely on her own!

           
Ed had sat there wanting to retch,
wanting to get up and run from the restaurant. He'd seriously considered
excusing himself to the men's room and not coming back. But he'd made himself
stay calm while his mind raced, and had then come up with an idea. Only time
would tell if it was the craftiest or stupidest act of his life.

           
His card.

           
If he could stay in touch with her,
she could keep him abreast of where the police investigation was headed. He had
to know. So far it sounded as if he and Phil were safe. Nothing to link either
of them to the girl or to the Plaza. But they were hardly home free. And if
something new turned up, he wanted to know. If the case was being downgraded to
inactive, which he prayed it soon would be, he wanted to know that, too.

           
But then there was something else.

           
Ed found himself strangely attracted
to this Kara Wade. She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. He felt
oddly close to her. As if… as if he already had a relationship with her.
Because of her sister, he felt as if he'd already made love to her.

           
Pretty weird.

           
He had a feeling that his life was
never going to be the same again. Something within him had changed last Tuesday
night, as if he'd passed through a flame and had come out a different person on
the other side. He was going to have to take charge of things a little more
instead of simply letting them happen to him. And he felt protective toward
Kara Wade, as if he owed her something.

           
Maybe he did. Maybe he owed her a
sister.

           
An odd thought.

           
Whatever happened, he fully intended
to see more of Kara Wade.

           
Kara had left Jill on the couch
watching tv while she straightened up some of the mess she had made of the
apartment. When she was done, she found Jill sound asleep. The thought of
spending the night here in Kelly's apartment gave her a mild case of the
creeps, but she didn't have the heart to wake Jill and drag her over to
Ellen's. Something ghoulish about sleeping in Kelly's bed, so she curled up
beside Jill on the couch. Besides, it wouldn't be so bad staying here if they
were together.

           
Kara closed her eyes and fought off
the intense loneliness that pressed in on her. Even snuggled up close to Jill,
she felt so alone.

           
Kelly was gone. How would she ever
get used to that? It had always been the two of them. When they had come to New
York together they used to sing that Paul Williams song, "You and Me
Against the World." She remembered how she liked the Helen Reddy version
and Kelly preferred Paul Williams' because she liked the bridge that Reddy had
left out. And even when Kara had returned to Pennsylvania, leaving Kelly
behind, her twin had only been a phone call or less than two hours' drive away.
And even if she'd been in Pago Pago, just knowing Kelly was
somewhere
she could be reached had made
all the difference.

           
Now Kelly was out of reach forever.

           
Kara bit back a sob and hugged Jill
tighter.

           
You
'n' me, kid. Just you 'n' me.

 
 

           
Kara arrived early at Dr. Gates'
office—on the third floor of a brick and glass office building on Seventh
Avenue in Chelsea. She was surprised at the size of his waiting room. So tiny.
But then, one psychiatrist seeing one patient an hour wouldn't need much space.
It was decorated like a comfortable den in someone's home— warm colors, soft
furniture, subdued lighting, and a glowing tropical fish tank built into one of
the walls.

           
Jill headed immediately for the fish
tank. Kara headed for the secretary-receptionist seated at the desk in the
corner, typing on a computer keyboard. Directly to the receptionist's right was
a heavy wooden door marked "CONSULTATION."

           
It hadn't been easy to worm her way
into Dr. Gates' appointment book, but through a persistent series of calls
starting early this morning during which she refused to take no for an answer,
Kara had managed to extract a promise of a few minutes with him on his lunch
hour.

           
The receptionist told her that the
doctor was with his last patient of the morning and would see her when he was
through.

           
"Would it be all right if I
left my daughter out here with you while I talk to Dr. Gates?" Kara said.

           
The receptionist's expression was
sour when she looked up from her keyboard.

           
"We do not provide baby-sitting
services here."

           
"I realize that," Kara
said. "But I'm from out of town and have no one to leave her with. This
was a last minute arrangement. My appointment's only for a few minutes. She'll
be no trouble, I assure you."

           
"Well…" She glanced over
to where Jill was quietly counting the fish in the tank. "Since it's only
for a few minutes. But don't make a habit of this."

           
"Thank you. I really appreciate
it."

           
Kara seated herself on the sofa and
wondered if Kelly used to sit in this same spot before her appointments. The
now-familiar wave of sadness washed over her.

           
Kelly,
Kelly, Kelly… what was torturing you?

           
Kara hoped Dr. Gates knew.

           
An attractive woman in her
mid-twenties came out of the consultation room. Her expression was grim. She
did not look at Kara or Jill; instead she stopped at the receptionist's desk.
While she arranged her next appointment, Kara called Jill to her side.

           
"Okay, Jill," she said,
putting an arm around her waist and hugging her close, "I'm going to go
into that room and talk to the doctor about your Aunt Kelly."

           
"When are we going to Aunt
Ellen's?"

           
"Right after this. I'll only be
a few minutes so I want you to stay here and read or look at the fish."

           
"Can't I come?"

           
"This is grown-up talk. Boring
stuff. Besides, I think Dr. Gates will only want to talk to me. Maybe you can
look at these magazines."

           
"They look boring."

           
"Mostly they are," Kara
picked up a copy of the
New Yorker
and flipped through the pages until she found a cartoon. "But this one has
some funny drawings in it. And if you're lucky, you may even find the Addams
Family."

           
"Really?"

           
She took the issue and began
flipping through it page by page. Kara guessed it would take her at least half
a day to go through all the issues in the waiting room.

           
"The doctor will see you
now," the receptionist said.

           
Kara's stomach constricted as she
rose from the chair.

           
"I'll be right next door,
Jill," she said. "Don't budge."

           
"I won't, Mom."

           
Kara walked through the door into a
much larger office. It was decorated in a comfortable fashion similar to the
waiting room. A large picture window took up most of one wall; daylight
filtered through the drapes. Rows of books, some so old their spines were
cracked and warped, lined the walls. A couple of upholstered chairs, something
that looked like a recliner, and an antique mahogany desk that had to be six
feet long.

           
Where's
the couch
? she thought.

           
A man was sitting at the desk,
writing. He glanced up at Kara and froze for an instant, then he shot to his
feet.

           
"Eeshtenem!"

           
"What's wrong?"

           
He recovered quickly and motioned
her forward.

           
"Come in, please," he
said. There was a trace of an unidentifiable accent in his voice. "I must
apologize for my reaction, but you took me by surprise. This is extraordinary,
most extraordinary! The resemblance is incredible!"

           
Kara was impressed with Dr. Gates'
appearance. He looked to be about fifty, tall, very trim, with soft blue eyes,
sandy hair graying at the temples, and a neat, sandy mustache. He was
expensively dressed, wearing a camel hair sports coat, dark brown slacks, a
yellow shirt and brown knit tie.

           
"We were twins."

           
"Yes, I know. She mentioned you
many times."

           
Kara was immediately curious about
how Kelly had spoken of her. As if reading her mind, Dr. Gates told her.

           
"She had a deep affection for
you."

           
Kara felt her throat constrict.
It was mutual
.

           
"Please sit down," Dr.
Gates said, indicating a chair in front of his desk. "And let me express
how shocked and saddened I was by Kelly's death. It was a terrible blow, and
the sensationalized coverage in the press only made it worse. After nearly a
year and a half of seeing her as a patient, I'd come to think of her as almost
a friend. She deserved far better treatment than she received."

           
"Thank you, Doctor Gates. I'm
sure then you can appreciate the need that has brought me to you. I need to
know what you were treating Kelly for."

           
His smile was sardonic. "That
seems to be a popular subject these days. The police are after the same
information."

           
Good
,
Kara thought.
At least they haven't given
up
.

           
"And you must believe me, Ms.
Wade," he continued, "That I am sincerely sorry to say that my answer
to them will be the same as to you: No comment."

           
"She was my sister, Doctor
Gates. My twin. This is not idle curiosity on my part. I must know what it was
that led Kelly to the Plaza and got her killed."

           
"I'm afraid I can't discuss
that with you, Miss Wade. It's privileged information."

           
"I've never heard of such a
thing!"

           
"Nevertheless, that is my
policy."

           
Crosstown traffic was a killer, as
usual, so Rob Harris arrived at Dr. Gates' office a little later than he had
intended. He introduced himself to the receptionist and was relieved to find
that the doctor was still in his consultation room.

           
Dr. Gates had refused to cooperate
over the phone. Rob knew from experience that many doctors automatically
refused to divulge medical information on their patients, even when foul play
was suspected; some did it as a power play, and others actually thought they
were protecting a dead patient's rights. Psychiatrists were the most stubborn.
But he had learned over the years that the mere physical presence of a
detective flashing his badge in the office often had a tongue-loosening effect
on these docs.

           
"Please have a seat," the
receptionist said. "The doctor should be through in a few minutes."

           
Rob glanced at the little girl
sitting in the corner flipped through a magazine at breakneck speed, then back
at the receptionist.

           
"Kind of young for
psychotherapy, isn't she?" he whispered.

           
The receptionist did not smile.

           
"Her mother is with the
doctor," she said coldly. "Please be seated."

           
"Sure. Right."

           
He checked out the tropical fish in
the tank. He didn't know what kind they were, but they were bright, beautiful,
and graceful. He took a seat on a couch against the far wall and glanced at the
little girl a few feet away. She was tearing through that magazine, stopping
only to look at the cartoons. A skinny little thing dressed in Oshkosh overalls
and a plaid flannel shirt, with long, dark brown hair twisted into a single
braid. Cute. Rob had never been crazy about kids—usually they were pests—but
this one was pretty well behaved. She seemed oblivious to him. So much the better.

           
For some reason, Kara popped into
his mind. Rob leaned back on the sofa and sighed. In a way he was glad she was
in Pennsylvania and not in the city. That made it a little easier telling her
on the phone that the investigation was just spinning its wheels. But damn it,
he didn't have diddlyshit to work with. Two unmatchable completes and a partial
off a hotel water glass; a description of two white males that could fit one
out of every four guys on the Upper West Side. And Forensics saying there was no
evidence of foul play. He was glad he hadn't been sitting in front of Kara when
he'd told her that.

           
This psychiatrist was his last lead.
Rob had picked up from one of Kelly's co-workers that she'd been seeing Dr.
Gates regularly for a year or more, ever since she went through a nasty
break-up with some guy she'd been seeing for awhile. Rob had checked out the
guy— married with children, no less—and his whereabouts last Tuesday night were
accounted for. So Dr. Gates looked like the last hope for a solid lead. And not
a very bright hope.

           
Rob picked a magazine off the top of
the nearest pile. It was
Cosmopolitan
.
He was about to toss it back when the vast exposed areas of smooth skin on the
cover model caught his eye. Next to her left arm was a heading: "10 Ways
to Keep Him Satisfied!" That sounded interesting. As he opened the issue,
he heard a little voice from the corner.