Stephen White - Cold Case

I said, "Dr. Welle, Representative Welle, hello."

"Don't bother with all that rigmarole. Ray will do just fine. May I call you Alan? Or is it Al?"

"Alan." I reached the bottom of the ladder and took the glass from his tray with my left hand and shook his hand with my right.

"Thank you very much. I'm pretty sure that this is the first drink I've ever had delivered to me by a member of the United States Congress."

"I like to think we're good for something other than raising money, spending money, and arguing about everything and nothing. I think that if I could deliver a cold drink to every one of my constituents we might all be better off. We'd certainly trust each other more."

Over Welle's shoulder I saw Phil Barrett entering the room. He had donned a dirt brown suit jacket over his shirt and tie. I thought of a breaded pork chop. A stuffed breaded pork chop.

"You two have met, right? You don't mind that Phil's going to sit in, do you?

Didn't think so. Sit, sit, everyone, please," cajoled Welle. He guided us toward the windows, where we each took a Queen Anne chair.

I didn't want Phil Barrett anywhere near this part of my inquiry. But I already knew what objection I was going to make about his presence and knew it would play better later on than it would at the start.

"Trish tells me you want to take a trip down memory lane, Alan. Back to my roots, so to speak. Clinical psychology. Seems like at least two lifetimes ago that I was doing psychotherapy every day. Some old case of mine, right? That's what you want to talk about? I don't know how much I'll remember after all these years. But I promise to do my best"

"Thank you. That's all we can hope for." I was having trouble finding comfort while addressing Welle by his first name, but I didn't have the luxury of time to figure out why I was stumbling. I assumed it had to do with his congressional status, hoped it didn't have anything to do with his celebrity. I did know I didn't want to enter into this conversation intimidated by this man. I said, "As I'm sure your office was apprised when the request was made for this appointment, it was an unfortunate case that I wish to discuss. That of Mariko Hamamoto."

He raised one eyebrow and glanced at Phil Barrett. Something passed between them that I wasn't privy to.

Welle said, "Although I'm not fond of starting conversations this way, I'm afraid I'll have to be disagreeable right off the bat. Case wasn't unfortunate at all. Textbook intervention. I'm proud of it. I did good work. Fine work.

Poor girl's murder sure was unfortunate, though. Obscene."

"I've recently spoken with Mariko's father and-"

"You have? Well, you talk to Taro again you give him my best wishes. I still pray for him and Eri at least once a week. Sometimes more than that. And that little girl of theirs, what was her name?"

I assumed he meant Mariko's little sister.

"Satoshi."

"That's right. Satoshi. The whole thing broke her in two. The disappearance.

The murders. She was a real sweetheart."

I suspected I was watching the process by which a natural politician transfers a forgotten name into permanent storage. He wouldn't forget Satoshi Hamamoto's identity again.

I reached into my jacket pocket and took out a photocopy of the release-of-information form that Taro had signed in Vancouver.

"I'll be sure to pass along your regards. This is for your records, by the way.

Its a photocopy of an authorization signed by Taro Hamamoto permitting you to release information about his daughters psychotherapy to me and to Locard."

Phil Barrett reached for the sheet of paper. I retrieved it from his reach and handed it instead to Welle. To Phil Barrett, I said, "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us at this point, Mr. Barrett. You don't have permission to hear any confidential information about Mariko Hamamoto's psychotherapy from Dr. Welle.

The consent that Mr. Hamamoto signed applies only to me and to the professional members of Locard. You… are not covered."

Welle and Barrett again exchanged something non verbally While Welle glanced at the document I'd handed to him, he said, "I'm sure Taro wouldn't mind at all Phil's hearing what I have to say about his daughter. Phil was sheriff in Routt County back then. He knows all this anyway."

I thought he was waiting to see if I would react to the news about Phil Barrett's involvement in the earlier investigation. I didn't. I said, "But Taros not here to give his assent. And I have no doubt that someone in your position would not want to risk violating patient confidentiality. Even on a technicality. Ray." The

"Ray" rolled right off my tongue. I smiled. My pulse was getting back to normal.

Welle wet his lips and said, "I'm afraid the man's right, Phillip. He has both ethics and law on his side. Tough combination to fight, even in Washington. So you'll have to excuse us for a few minutes. If we move onto unrelated subjects you can come right on back in."

I tried not to watch Barrett's embarrassing efforts at extricating himself from the wing chair. I failed. The weave of the material of his suit seemed to have a magnetic attraction for the velvet fabric of the upholstery.

Barrett finally departed. Welle said, "So what can I tell you? Mariko's treatment, to my memory, was a total success. Adjustment problems. A little acting out. Basically a good, good kid having trouble being an adolescent and being an American. She worked it out. I helped. Case closed."

I smiled.

"That's nice to hear. Taro Hamamoto told me basically the same thing.

My dilemma about Mariko is that I'm not sure exactly what I need to know about her. Ray. Would you mind if I take a moment to explain my role with Locard and then perhaps you can help me decide what it is I might need to know about the treatment you did?" I proceeded to give my I-needtogettoknowmarikoto-trytoknowher-killer speech.

He listened patiently. When I concluded, he said, "So the thinking now is that it wasn't a stranger who killed those girls."

"I'm not privy to Locard's current hypothesis, Ray. All I know is that this is a base they've asked me to cover."

"I think Phil and his boys investigated this whole thing pretty thoroughly.

Back then, of course. Better computers, more technology, better science now, sure.

That may help your group with its work. But my memory is that they ruled out that the killer was someone who knew the girls. FBI concurred."

"Locard seems to like to proceed from a point of view where the assumptions are wiped clean."

He nodded.

"Like to reinvent the wheel, do they? Can't argue with it. They've had their successes, haven't they? That Texas thing? Wow. Have to admit that was impressive."

"Yes, they have been successful. Why don't we start with the presenting problem?

What were the issues that you were helping Mariko with?"

"Let me see" He tightened his eyes as though he was trying to appear pensive. I wasn't convinced by his act when he said, "I think I got it. She'd been caught with some dope. Just enough to smoke, mind you, not to sell. That's my memory.

Too bad Phil's not here. He'd remember for sure about the dope part.

Mother was overprotective. Father was more reasonable but was kind of absent, you know, very busy at work. He was a big shot at the resort. Mariko was trying to find her way around a new culture, with new friends, new temptations.

Adolescent stuff."

"You mentioned her friends. Would you say she was especially susceptible to influence from her friends?"

"Especially? I wouldn't say especially. Had a good friend… yes, Tami-Tami Franklin, who was a very strong personality, a natural leader. I must say Tami didn't always lead kids in the direction that their parents wanted them to go.