Jonathan Kellerman - The Clinic

Before I could answer, he said, “Well?” Stretching the word theatrically.

“It's about Professor Hope Devane's murd-”

“ That? What does Reed have to do with that ?” One hand flew up to his face and the knuckles rested under the chin, socratically.

“We're talking to students who knew Professor Devane and he's one of them.”

“There must be hundreds,” he said. “What a waste of time. And it doesn't permit you to barge in here, unannounced.”

“Sorry for interrupting. I'll wait til after class.”

“Then you'll be wasting your time. Reed's not here.”

“Okay, thanks.” I turned and walked away. When I'd taken three steps, he said, “I mean, he's not here at all.”

“Not in class or not in school?”

“Both. He dropped out a month ago. I'm quite miffed- more than miffed. Our acting program is extremely selective and we expect our students to finish no matter what the reason.”

“What was his reason?”

He turned his back on me and headed back to the swinging doors. Placing one hand on blond wood, he gave a pitying smile.

“He got a job. ”

“What kind of job?”

Long, deep breath. “One of those soap operas. A serious mistake on his part.”

“Why's that?”

“The boy has talent but he needs seasoning. Soon he'll be driving a Porsche and wondering why he feels so empty. Like everyone else in this town.”

Back home a note on the fridge said, “How about we eat in? Went for provisions with Handsome, back by six.”

At five-thirty Milo called and I pulled out my notes and got ready to report on the day's interviews. But he broke in:

“Got a response to my teletype. Las Vegas Homicide has a cold case that matches: twenty-three-year-old call girl, found on a dark side street near her apartment. Stabbed in the heart, groin, and back, in that order. Under a tree, no less. A month before Hope. They've been figuring it for a lust-psycho. Working girls get killed all the time there. This girl danced, in addition to hooking, had been in a topless show at the Palm Princess casino last year. But recently she'd been working the pits as a freelance. Two, three hundred a trick.”

“So why was she found on the street?”

“The theory was she hitched up with the wrong john and he killed her either on the way over to party at her place or afterward. Maybe she was walking him out to his car and he surprised her with the knife. Or maybe she hadn't made him happy enough or they couldn't agree on price and he left mad.”

“Any physical resemblance to Hope?”

“From the photo they faxed me, no, other than they were both good-looking. This girl- Mandy Wright's her name- looks gorgeous, actually. But dark-haired. And twenty-three makes her a lot younger than Hope. And clearly no professor. But given the wound pattern, we may have a traveling psycho, so I think I'd better concentrate on finding out if any other homicides around the country match. For all her controversy, the good professor may very well have been the victim of a nutcase stranger. I'm planning to fly out to Vegas tonight, play show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine.” He coughed. “So, what were you saying?”

Before I could tell him, Robin came through the door, holding a grocery bag and Spike's leash. Her color was high and she was smiling as she waved. She put the bag down and kissed me.

I mouthed, “Milo.”

“Say hi.” She left to change.

I relayed the message, then told him all of it: the conversations with Julia Steinberger and Casey Locking, Tessa Bowlby's panic, Patrick Huang's anger and alleged alibi, Reed Muscadine dropping out to take the acting job.

“Bottom line: Hope made a strong impression on everyone. Though if it is a traveling serial, that's probably no longer relevant.”

“The Bowlby girl- was she really scared?”

“Petrified. Pale and skinny and weak-looking, too, so I wondered if Muscadine's AIDS test might have come back positive. And if he dropped out 'cause he's sick. Or maybe it was just because he got the acting job. But what's the difference?”

“Don't go around feeling useless, yet. Mandy Wright changes things but I can't afford to eliminate anyone or anything, at this point. Just because it looks like a psycho, doesn't mean it was a stranger. Maybe Hope and Mandy knew the same psycho.”

“A call girl and a professor?”

“This professor may turn out to be different,” he said. “So I'm still gonna talk to Kenny Storm and I'm sure as hell gonna verify the Huang boy's alibi. And if you don't mind talking to the other two girls, I'd appreciate it. Something else: Before Vegas called I was looking into Lawyer Barone's recent cases and Hope's name doesn't come up in any of them. So what did he pay Hope for?”

“Something she didn't want publicized?”

“That's the only thing I can think of. Now, Barone does lots of porno defense, mostly out of his San Francisco office, and porno's something a call girl like Mandy could get involved with. But as to Hope's role, I just can't put it together.”

“Barone could have been looking for academic and feminist credentials to shore up the defense,” I said.

“Then why no record of her on the cases?”

“Maybe Barone hired her to write a report but didn't like the end product. It's happened to me.”

“Could be. Whatever. I'm just about to put in my tenth call to the good barrister. And I'd still like to learn more about Dr. Cruvic. The whole consulting thing is interesting- all that money.”

Robin returned to the kitchen and began heating water.

I said, “In terms of Cruvic, I can check out the Women's Health Center in Santa Monica. Got an address?”

“No, sorry. Okay, thanks, Alex. Off to Burbank airport.”

“Have a good trip. Maybe you can get in some gambling.”

“On the taxpayers' time? Tsk-tsk. Anyway, games of chance aren't my thing. Randomness scares me.”

When I put down the phone Robin was slicing onions, tomatoes, and celery, and a pot of spaghetti approached a boil on the stove.

“Gambling?” she said.

“Milo's going to Vegas. He found a murder there that matches Hope's.”

I told her the details. The knife stopped.

“If it's a nut,” she said, “there could be others.”

“He's checking around the country.”

“So ugly,” she said. “That Women's Health Center you mentioned. Holly Bondurant used to be involved in a place in Santa Monica. I know because she did a benefit concert a few years ago and I set up her twelve-string. What's the connection between the center and the murder?”

“Probably nothing, but Milo got interested because Hope met a Beverly Hills gynecologist named Cruvic there. She ended up consulting to Cruvic's private practice- counseling patients undergoing fertility procedures. We went over to see him this morning and Milo wondered if there was something going on between him and Hope.”

“Why?”

“Because he spoke of her with such passion. And her marriage seems somewhat passionless, so the obvious question came up. You know how thorough Milo is. Even with this new lead, he wants to clear everything.”

She put the knife down, went to the phone, and punched numbers.

“Holly? It's Robin Castagna. Hi. Yes, it has been. Fine, great. And with you? Good. How's Joaquin, he must be what- fourteen… you're kidding! Listen, Holly, I don't know if you can help me, but…”

After she hung up, she said, “She'll meet you tomorrow at nine A.M. Cafe Alligator.”

“Thanks.”

“It's the least I can do.”

Later, during dinner, she pushed food around her plate and her wineglass went untouched.

“What's the matter?” I said.