Jonathan Kellerman - Heartbreak Hotel

Milo said, “Police, we’d like to talk to Dr. Wojik.”

“Po-lize... Doctor’s with patients.”

“We’ll wait.”

“It could be long time.”

“No problem.”

“Can I ask for what it’s about?”

“Thalia Mars.”

“Miss Mars?”

“You know her.”

“She sometimes visits — not for a while. She okay?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Oh. Really?” Blue eyes misted. “Oh, no.”

“How often did she visit?”

“Sometimes,” said Tatiana. “She goes for coffee with Doctor.”

“When was the last time?”

“I dun know, maybe... months? Is she gonna be okay?”

“Afraid not,” said Milo.

Tatiana’s hand flew to her mouth. “Polize.” As if the fact had just processed. “I go get her. Only one patient in the Sick room, it’s a virus, fluids and rest, she’ll be done soon.”

The glass slid shut. Milo leafed The Cat in the Hat. Two more croupy coughs sounded. “Can viruses get through drywall?”

He switched to Oh, the Places You’ll Go! Smiled faintly, as if remembering something. The door opened and a woman in her fifties shuffled out, red-eyed and sniffling.

White hair was carelessly cut in a pageboy. A white coat several sizes too large tented a gray-blue dress. Support stockings, sensible shoes, round unlined face. Not young-looking but oddly child-like.

Dr. B on her tag, along with a daisy drawn in red marker.

“My assistant said Thalia is dead.” Whispery voice, curiously lacking in inflection.

“Unfortunately, Doctor.” Milo held out his card.

Belinda Wojik was looking at the floor and didn’t notice it. The fingers of her right hand beat a rapid tattoo on her chin. Her lips turned down. Nostrils pulsed. Cheeks began to flutter as she exhaled slowly.

“Thalia,” she said. The fingers on her chin rose to her forehead, slapping softly. Then up to her hair, scratching, pulling.

She sat down heavily.

Through all of it, not a moment of eye contact. Not, I sensed, the evasion of the guilty. This was something else.

Milo said, “Could we talk a bit, Doctor?”

“You’re a homicide detective,” she said. “Are you Dr. Delaware?”

“I am.”

“Know of you. Read your work in oncology. Sorry for not calling you back. Didn’t understand why you wanted to talk about Thalia. I wanted her permission. Was going to ask her. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

Clipping segments of speech like links of sausage.

She raised her head. Close-set hazel eyes struggled to find their bearings, failed, and aimed down at the floor. “Very sad to hear about this. Who’s the perpetrator?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, Doctor.”

“You think I could tell you?”

“We’re talking to everyone who knew Thalia.”

Rapid nodding. “I knew her. Since I was a child. My grandfather...” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Not relevant. After you leave, I’m going to the hospital to see a poor little thing with cystic fibrosis. Not a pulmonologist. I handle general issues in concert with a pulmonologist.”

Milo looked at me.

I said, “Makes sense.”

She inhaled slowly. “I know. I just sounded strange to you. I know. Give me a second. I’ll explain.”

Several more breaths. “I’m of ambiguous diagnosis but let’s say spectrum. I like to think mild. I function well on a professional level. Not Asperger’s, I’m not even sure I believe Asperger’s is a bona fide diagnosis. Even if it is, not me, no obsessive hobbies, I like people, I just don’t — I love my work, the children. They don’t mind.”

Plaintive expression. “Did that explain it or have I confused you more?”

I said, “You’ve explained perfectly.”

“With my littlest patients I don’t need to explain. With grown-ups, as long as the children are happy. When I’m exposed to anxiety-provoking stimuli, I have to work harder. Like now. This is anxiety provoking. I can be more conventional when I’m not anxious. This is... I’m in denial, first stage like anyone.”

I said, “Sorry we had to tell you—”

“You have your jobs like I have mine. I can’t think of anyone who didn’t like Thalia.”

Milo said, “Your grandfather was her money manager. How far back did they go?”

“William P. Wojik,” she said. “That’s how you found me.”

I said, “Actually, Ruben told me you’d sent Thalia to him.”

“She asked me for a worthy cause. Ruben’s a good man doing good work.”

Milo said, “About your grandfather—”

“I don’t like to talk about my grandfather. He loved me. But he associated with criminals.”

Milo and I looked at each other. Belinda Wojik continued to stare at vinyl.

“That was a long time ago,” I said.

“It was,” she said. “He wasn’t a criminal himself. At least I don’t know anything to the contrary. If there’s anyone I grant analytic caution it’s Grampa. He was always good to me. Even though I confused him. I confused everyone but only Grampa took the time... do I need to talk about him?”

I sat down next to her. “If you could, we’d appreciate it. We know so little about Thalia so any link could be valuable.”

Long silence. One leg began to pump up and down. She crossed her arms.

“Thalia considered Grampa a good friend. She told me. After I told her he was nice. Even though I confused him. He was socially smart. What you’d call charming. He lived to ninety-five. Died eleven years ago in his sleep. That’s a good way to go. Even when he was old, he was social. He grew a beard, looked like a thin Santa. When I was a child, he dressed up like Santa and put pillows under his costume. Because I was afraid to go to Bullocks Wilshire. Where the real Santa was. The real fake Santa.”

She frowned.

I said, “Your grandfather understood you.”

“It was my father who told me. My father didn’t approve of his father. They didn’t get along. Father and I didn’t get along. Grandfather and I did get along. Grandfather always said, ‘Common enemy, Belle.’ Then he’d laugh and give me a candy. He gave me extra when Father said no sweets.”

I said, “A rebel.”

“You’d have to be,” she said. “Associating with criminals.”

Milo said, “Which criminals?”

She shook her head. Drummed faster. “I don’t know but my father never lied. He was a dentist and very honest. He did work for the studios. Fixing stars’ teeth and he didn’t lie. Even though he said that business was all lies. He was religious, Presbyterian, thought of being a minister but chose dentistry. After Mother died, I don’t remember her, he raised me. Dr. William Wojik, Junior. Same name as Grandfather but different. It happened because of candy. Grampa gave me some and he got angry. Pulled me out of Grandfather’s house and took me home. In the car, he said, ‘You think he’s a great guy, Belle? He associated with criminals, okay?’ And then he drove too fast.”

Her hands settled in her lap. “That’s how I learned about it. I was curious so I asked Thalia about it. Because she knew him for a long time. Knew me through Grampa. It was here in the office. She came to have coffee, she sometimes did if she was shopping in Beverly Hills. I finished my last patient. Asthma attack, I prescribed albuterol plus comprehensive allergy tests with Dr. Epstein, he’s my consulting allergist. The patient had a Level Three reaction to horsehair and was riding horses. The reaction took a while to manifest. Allergic load had to build up but then it did and all the wheezing and constriction and congestion increased. I had her stop riding and everything was fine... that’s the day Thalia came by for coffee. I remember it that way, Thalia-asthma. It’s like a bookmark. It was also the day after the anniversary of Grampa’s death. It made me sad, remembering. I told Thalia. Then I told her what my father said. He’s dead, too, had an accident, skiing. Hoping she’d contradict Father and say no, Bill never did anything like that. She smiled and said, ‘People have pasts, Belle. If I told you about mine, you might not want to have coffee with me.’ Then she winked. The next time I saw her, she asked me for a worthy cause and I said, Dr. Ruben Eagle. He does good work.”