P.J. Morse - Clancy Parker 01 - Heavy Mental (20 page)

I took that as a dig at her absentee husband. I continued, “Okay. Who recommended Dr. Redburn to you?”

“Peggy,” Sabrina says. “You should have seen what she was like after she came back from India. She was a zombie, and the doctor brought her back to life.”

I started pacing across Harold’s floor. I wanted to joke, “Dr. Redburn just made Peggy into another monster,” but I thought better of it. Instead, I asked, “Peggy was in the office the day you brought the necklace in, right? She’s pretty jealous of the time you spend with Dr. Redburn. Do you think she took it?”

Sabrina mulled that one over. “Perhaps. But it’s hard to miss Peggy.”

That was true. Sabrina wasn’t the most observant person in the world, but she had to have noticed Peggy’s outfits. Then I thought of Jorge the Receptionist. “But there’s a good chance it was someone in his office. I need to know how you wound up in that office and what they know about you. Someone Dr. Redburn knows might have taken it. Maybe one of his employees.”

“You mean the receptionist? Jorge? Oh, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He is so sweet!”

“He’s sweet?” I asked. The same guy who sneaky-flicked me off?

Sabrina’s eyes showed a little life. “Yes! He always makes sure I’m first in line for appointments. He even got me flowers on my birthday! Oh, I hope it isn’t him …”

That was interesting. I had crossed Jorge off my list because Dr. Redburn had started locking Jorge out of his office. Now Jorge the receptionist was moving higher on my suspect list just for ingratiating himself with my client. “Did Jorge have access to the doctor’s office?” I asked.

“Yes,” Sabrina replied. “He did. I left a coat in the office once, in the evening, and he let me in to get it. He even stayed after closing until I could get there.”

I scratched my head. Either Dr. Redburn was locking his door for no reason since Jorge already had the key or he had recently changed the locks.

There was also one other thing that struck me about the coat. I said, “Sabrina, I am assuming that everything you tell me is true. However, you said you don’t lose things, when it is obvious that you do. You just said you left a coat behind in the doctor’s office.”

Sabrina groaned. “Please stop. It’s making my head hurt more.”

I continued, “Every lie you tell is going to keep me from finding that necklace and finding out what happened to Rosa. I mean it. Don’t lie, or I will be off this case. Your doctor tried to seduce me, Rosa is dead, and I’m already fed up. Who do you think would have a reason to hit you in the head just now?”

“Peggy,” Sabrina replied. “Definitely. My appointments were cutting into hers.” Then she laughed a little. “And, if I’m not supposed to lie, then I should say my husband. He doesn’t like me all that much anymore. He calls me a ‘space case’ and says I’m so dumb we need to set up a ‘Lost and Found’ box in our house.”

“That’s a dick thing to say,” I replied.

“I have done my best to defend him with all the UC … incidents, but I guess I’m not doing well enough.”

“I’m sure you did all you could,” I told her. “Are you sure you can walk out of here without my calling the hospital—or the police?”

Sabrina started to stand up. “I think so.”

Helping her up, I said, “I will do my best to find your necklace. I just want you to tell me where you are going and when. I might need to follow you for a bit to make sure no one tries to take anything else.”

Her lower lip trembling, Sabrina asked, “Maybe my husband is right. Maybe I am a space case. Do you think I’m taking the jewelry from myself?”

I couldn’t answer that. “Let’s focus on finding the necklace first, okay?”

Sabrina turned for the door. As she did so, I realized the hat Harold used to fan her was on the floor. “Your hat!” I called out.

She sighed,” I forgot. Again.”

She took the hat and exited Harold’s front door. While she headed to her car, she gave a slow nod to Harold. He waved his book at her.

I followed her all the way to make sure no one tried anything. Even though she made some bad decisions, she seemed so wounded. Sabrina was the exact opposite of Mom. While my mother’s bones would snap at the slightest opportunity, she was actually a tough person. Sabrina could probably take plenty of punches, but she fell apart internally, and no amount of therapy or weird treatments could heal her.

CHAPTER 27

FREE ADVICE

S
OON AFTER
S
ABRINA LEFT, MY
phone beeped, and I looked down. I had a message from Mr. Buckner. I called him back, and he seemed a little testy. “Ms. Parker,” he said, “I hired you for a case, but I haven’t heard anything since seeing you at the art gallery. Have you been working at all?”

“I’ve seen Dr. Redburn twice, if that’s what you mean,” I replied. “And I can see why you don’t like him.” That was all I had to say about his side of the case. He claimed to care about Sabrina, but she said he didn’t care about her at all. Then again, I just caught Sabrina in the middle of an affair, or whatever she called the thing she had going with Dr. Redburn. The Buckners needed some couples’ counseling.

“Can we meet?” Mr. Buckner asked.

It took me a bit to make up my mind. Since Sabrina told me that Jorge the Receptionist had a key to Dr. Redburn’s office, I had wanted to follow Jorge around for a while instead of talking to Mr. Buckner.

But, if I met Mr. Buckner at the Cozy Corner Café, I could do both. Plus, Muriel might be around and could ID my body if the phantom driver went after me, and maybe I could try again to see if Muriel could put her differences with Shane aside, at least for one night.

“Yes,” I replied. “Let’s meet at the Cozy Corner Café in one hour.”

I packed an overnight bag, grabbing binoculars, my digital camera, a tape recorder and a flashlight. Since I expected a long night, I threw in a bottle of water and a bag of Fritos. As a final touch, I slipped my pistol into Cherry 2000’s glove compartment.

Then I drove to the Cozy Corner Café. As usual, parking in Pacific Heights was a drag. When I arrived at the cafe, I ordered a coffee from Muriel. If all went according to plan and I could go after Jorge, it was going to be a late night, and I needed to stock up on caffeine while waiting for Mr. Buckner.

Muriel said, “You don’t look so hot.”

“Does it show that much?” I asked.

“Just saying. You depressed or something?” She turned to the coffee dispenser for my large-sized cup.

“I think the ‘or something’ just about covers it.”

“Is it that shrink you were talking to? You were so crushing on him!”

I just wanted to drink my coffee instead of relive an embarrassing moment. But I tried not to take my anger out on Muriel. I really wanted to take it out on Dr. Redburn for not being what I wanted him to be. “Men, in general, are a letdown,” I replied.

Muriel handed me a coffee. “At least you might get a good song out of it.”

I liked that approach. For all Muriel’s bluster, she remained optimistic. “Yeah. I could think of something. You sure I can’t talk you into joining the Marquee Idols? For one night? You wouldn’t believe the bassists we’ve tried out. This one guy started chanting. And he smelled like asparagus.”

Muriel wrinkled up her nose. “Look, I like you fine. I like Wayne fine. But … did you tell that asshole Shane what I had to say?” She looked hopeful. I imagined I looked that way whenever I complained about Larry.

I delivered the truth just as Shane put it and hoped it might win her over. “He said he was stupid and that it wasn’t worth it.”

Muriel almost smiled. “Really?”

Then I heard the Cozy Corner door swing open behind me and a voice boom, “Clancy!” A tan and relaxed Mr. Buckner walked in like he was about to play a round of golf, and I was to be his partner. “Hello … again,” he said to Muriel.

“Hey.” Muriel snapped out of her smile.

I asked Mr. Buckner if he wanted a coffee, but he declined, so I led him to the exact same table where I sat with Dr. Redburn.

Since the Cozy Corner Café was in Pacific Heights, Mr. Buckner didn’t find it necessary to wipe down his seat as he did in the Seagull’s Nest. Instead, he sat down and got right to the point: “Tell me about my wife.”

Between my scolding of Sabrina and my arrival at the Cozy Corner, I had considered just how much to tell Mr. Buckner. I couldn’t tell if he really cared about her, so I didn’t plan on saying much. Just when Mr. Buckner’s wife lost a lot of their money in the form of the necklace and his job was in jeopardy, Jamal said he was off spending tons in the restaurants South of Market. Maybe he took the necklace himself and was going to claim Sabrina lost it because she was nuts. As long as he had a money motive, he didn’t need to know every last detail—at least not yet.

I also felt the urge to protect Sabrina, who had gotten herself in a terrible mess and who was going to need an army to get herself out. And I was starting to think Mr. Buckner wasn’t the one to help her.

I chose my words as if I were navigating a minefield: “I’ve been following your wife’s daily patterns. And I think she needs help.”

“Help? More psychiatric help? She already has that.” Mr. Buckner folded his chubby hands in front of him. He was frustrated. “She’s so forgetful—it’s like Alzheimer’s. How much more help does she need?”

“Well, she’s definitely forgetful. But I did see her lose a hat today. And she told me she misplaced a coat.”

“A hat? A coat? That doesn’t sound so terrible.” He smiled, but his forehead started sweating, and he dabbed at it with his hankie.

“It’s not. But what concerns me about her is that she seems like she’s sleepwalking, and she could have an accident.” I added, “You don’t want her to get hit by a car and wind up like Rosa.”

“You know about that?” Mr. Buckner seemed surprised.

“Oh, yes. It’s awful. Poor woman. I met her while staking out your house.”

Mr. Buckner cringed at that. “You were in my house?”

I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup. “You hired me to mind your wife. Of course I was in your house. I talked to Rosa. She spoke a little English. She was a nice lady who was worried about Sabrina.”

Mr. Buckner asked, “Do you think my wife is mentally ill?”

I didn’t like how quickly Mr. Buckner changed the subject when Rosa came up. “Rosa thought so. She told me, ‘Poor lady lost her head.’”

Mr. Buckner sweat a little more. “The maids had been saying things.”

“Look, you can’t ask Rosa for more details. And I’m not a shrink. As for Dr. Redburn —”

“Yes!” Now Mr. Buckner’s sweat was flying. “That man! I think he made her worse!”

“I don’t know about that, but I can safely say that your wife looked different going out of his office than she did coming in.” I thought of the composed, impeccably groomed Sabrina Norton Buckner who first sat in my office to the sad, spindly woman who was passed out on Harold’s sofa.

I almost hinted at the affair, but I hesitated. It wasn’t because I wanted to protect Mr. Buckner. Instead, I didn’t want to think about how much I wanted to kiss Dr. Redburn back.

Before I could say anything, Mr. Buckner asked, “Did you take pictures?” Mr. Buckner asked. “If he’s doing anything to her, I want to know about it.”

I had a feeling he wouldn’t like any of the pictures I came up with. I replied, “The doctor spends a lot of time with his patients in a windowless room. I could get photos of her in his main office, but that would be hard.” I bet Peggy had lots of pictures of everyone Dr. Redburn had been with, though. “Besides, I didn’t know you wanted pictures. I thought you just wanted me to look out for her while I looked for the necklace. I have a few pictures, but not much … mostly of her leaving your house …” I did not add that I took photos of the papers that Mr. Buckner left in his study.

Mr. Buckner became irritated, and blood flushed his cheeks. “I thought it was part of a private eye’s job to take pictures. I’m working in Sacramento all the time. I can’t do it.”

“I did take pictures. If you wanted close-ups, it’s not as easy as you think, especially when the person you’re watching can see you. If I tried to take close pictures, it would have blown my cover.”

“Then take pictures from far away!” Mr. Buckner shouted.

Muriel noticed that Mr. Buckner raised his voice, so she passed by and banged her fist on the table. “You need something?”

“No,” Mr. Buckner replied, shrinking back into his chair.

“I’ll come back to check on you later,” Muriel replied. It was definitely a threat.

I told Mr. Buckner, “I can get you pictures, but it’s not like your wife is doing anything obviously crazy. But I followed her for a few days, and I think she needs help, and not from that doctor. You already thought that was the case, or else you wouldn’t have come to me. Set aside the necklace. Set aside your reputation. Just get her some help.”

Mr. Buckner stared at a painting hanging above our table. The painting featured contrasting shades of green all swirling into each other, which created the optical illusion of a green pinwheel popping out of the wall. He took deep breaths to calm himself. He was absorbed in the pinwheel for a full minute before he turned his gaze back to me.

Then he said, “How familiar are you with Dr. Redburn?”

I played it neutral. “I got an appointment with him, and I think he’s a fraud.” I referenced Peggy as proof. “I’ve been talking to another one of his patients, and he sure as hell hasn’t helped her.”

“I’m not surprised,” Mr. Buckner said. “But he’s a powerful man in our circles. Many people go to him. If I were to say to them, ‘A private detective said he’s been hurting my wife,’ no one is going to believe me. I need proof.” He laid out his hands to indicate he wanted something tangible.

“Why would you say that? What does it matter?” I asked. “Just tell her to go to another psychiatrist. Do you really want me to find out if they are having an affair? If that’s it, why don’t you just say so?”

Mr. Buckner looked down at the table. Since he wasn’t looking at me, I couldn’t tell if he cared whether they were having an affair or not. “That’s not the point. The point is that she will do whatever he tells her to do. He can get money from her. He can get sex. I just don’t want her under his control anymore. It’s so humiliating. If I get pictures, I can show people what he really is.”