Jonathan Kellerman - Bad Love

Next came a half page follow-up by Detective Giordano, dated a week later:

Case#1453331, Rosenblatt, H. Requested permission from D. Victim's wife to search home premises on E. 65 St. due to search for evidence related to D. Victim's death. Said search effected 4/17/85 at 3:23 P.M. to 5:17 P.M. in company of Det. B. Wildebrandt and Officer J. McGovern. Home and office premises of D. Victim searched in presence of D. Victim's wife, Shirley Rosenblatt. No contraband from previous "East Side Burglaries" found. Permission requested to read D. Victim's psychiatric files for possible patient/fence connection, refused by S. Rosenblatt. Will consult with Chief of Dets. A. M. Talisiani.

The following page was typed on a different machine and signed by Detective Lewis S. Jackson, 19th Precinct. The date was four weeks later.

Conf. on Det. Giordano's case,#1453331, H. A. Rosenblatt. Det. Giordano on med. leave. D. Victim's wife, Shirley Rosenblatt, and son, Joshua Rosenblatt, requested meeting to review case. Wanting "progress" report. Met with them at Pcnct. Told of disposition. Very angry, said they were "deceived" as to purpose of home search. Son stated he is an attorney, knows "people." He and mother convinced hom., not sui. Stated D.V. not depressed, never depressed, not "criminal." Further stated "there was some sort of setup." Further stated D.V. had talked to wife, prior to death, about "upsetting case that could be related to what happened to my dad," but when asked for details, said he didn't know because D.V. was psychiatrist and kept secrets because of "ethics." When told nothing more could be done based on available evidence, son became even more irate and threatened to "go above you to get some action." Conversation reported to Chief of Dets. A. M. Talisiani.

The final two pages consisted of a letter on heavy white bond, dated one and a half months later.

COMSAC INVESTIGATIVE SERVICES

513 Fifth Avenue

Suite 3463

New York, NY 10110

June 30, 1985

Dr. Shirley Rosenblatt

c/o J. Rosenblatt, Esq.

Schechter, Mohl, and Trimmer

500 Fifth Avenue

Suite 3300

New York, NY 10110

Dear Dr. Rosenblatt:

Pursuant to your request, we have reviewed data and materials relevant to the unfortunate death of your husband, including but not limited to detailed inspection of all case reports, forensic reports, and laboratory analyses. We have also interviewed police personnel involved in this case.

Personal inspection of the premises where aforesaid unfortunate death took place was not fully accomplished because the owners of the apartment in question, Mr. and Mrs. Malcolm J. Rulerad, did not grant permission to our staff to enter and inspect. However, we do feel that we have accrued enough data with which to evaluate your case and we regret to inform you that we see no reason to doubt the conclusions of the police department in this matter. Furthermore, in view of the specific details of this case, we do not advise any further investigation into this matter.

Please feel free to get in touch if there are any questions concerning this matter.

Respectfully yours,

Robert D. Sugrue

Senior Investigator and Supervisor

INVOICE FOR SERVICES RENDERED

Twenty-two (22) hours at Sixty-Five (65) Dollars per Hour: $1430.00

Minus 10% Professional Discount to Schechter, Mohl, and Trimmer, Attys: $1287.00

Please Remit This Sum

I put down the file.

Shirley Rosenblatt's eyes were wide open and moist.

"The second death," she said. "Like killing him again." Shake of head. "Four years… but it's still- that's why Josh is so angry. No resolution. Now, you come…"

"I'm-"

"No." She managed to place a finger over her mouth. Dropped it and smiled. "Good. The truth outs."

Wider smile, a different meaning behind it.

"Harvey as a burglar," she said. "It's almost funny. And I'm not in prolonged denial. I lived with him for thirty-one years."

Sounding resolute, but she looked to me for confirmation, anyway.

I nodded.

She shook her head. "So how did he get in that apartment, right? That's what they kept asking me, and I didn't know what to tell them."

"He was lured there," I said. "Probably under the guise of a patient call. Someone he thought he could help."

"Harvey," she said softly. She closed her eyes. Opened them. "The police kept saying suicide. Over and over… Because Harvey was a psychiatrist, one of them- the chief of detectives- Talisiani- told me everyone knew psychiatrists had a high suicide rate. Then he told me to consider myself lucky that they weren't pursuing it further. That if they did, everything would come out."

" 'In view of the specific details of this case,' " I said.

"That's the private one, right? Comsac. At least the police were a lot more… direct. Talisiani told me if we made waves Harvey's name would be dragged through the slime. The whole family would be permanently coated with "slime.' He seemed offended that we didn't want him to close the case. As if we were criminals. Everyone made us feel that way… and now you're coming and telling me we were right."

She managed to press her palms together. "Thank you."

She slumped back on the pillow and breathed hard through dry lips. Tears filled her eyes, overflowed, and began draining down her cheeks. I wiped them with a tissue. Her lower body still hadn't moved.

"I'm so sad," she whispered. "Thinking about it, again… picturing it. But I'm glad you've come. You've… validated me- us. I'm only sorry you have to go through this pain. You really think it's something to do with Andres?"

"I do."

"Harvey never said anything."

I said, "The upsetting case Josh told Detective Jackson about-"

"A few weeks before…" Two deep breaths. "We were lunching, Harvey and I. We had lunch almost every day. He was upset. He was rarely upset- such an even man… he said it was a case. A patient he'd just talked to, he'd found it very disillusioning."

She turned toward me and her face was quaking.

"Disillusioned about Andres?" I said.

"He didn't mention Andres's name… didn't give me any details."

"Nothing at all?"

"Harvey and I never talked about cases. We made that rule right at the beginning of our marriage… two therapists… it's so easy to slip. You tell yourself it's… okay, it's professional consultation. And then you let loose more details than you need to. And then names slip out… and then you're talking about patients to your therapist friends at cocktail parties." She shook her head. "Rules are best."

"But Harvey must have told you something to make you suspect a connection to his death."

"No," she said sadly. "We really didn't suspect… we were just… grasping. Looking for anything out of the ordinary. So the police would see Harvey didn't… the whole thing was so… psychotic. Harvey in a stranger's apartment."

Remembered shame colored her face.

I said, "The owners of the apartment- the Rulerads. Harvey didn't know them?"

"They were mean people. Cold. I called the wife and begged her to let the private detective in to look. I even apologized- for what I don't know. She told me I was lucky she wasn't suing me for Harvey's break-in and hung up."

She closed her eyes for a long time and didn't move. I wondered if she'd fallen asleep.

Then she said, "Harvey was so affected… by this patient. That's what made me suspect. Cases never got to him. To be disillusioned… Andres? It doesn't make sense."

"De Bosch was his teacher, wasn't he? If Harvey learned something terrible about him, that could have disillusioned him."

Slow, sad nod.

I said, "How close was their relationship?"

"Teacher and student close. Harvey admired Andres, though he thought he was a little… authoritarian."