1st Culprit: A Crime Writers' Association Annual (1992) by Liza Cody; Michael Z. Lewin

Author:Liza Cody; Michael Z. Lewin [Lewin, Liza Cody; Michael Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780312117368
Amazon: 0312117361
Publisher: Chatto & Windus
Published: 1995-01-01T22:00:00+00:00

II

When the meter shut off for the day, Dr. von Hutten dictated a few case notes. He stood frowning at the back window, staring at the drenched begonias with unseeing eyes for long minutes, until a firm knock roused him. Doubtless some patient had forgotten an umbrella, although he saw nothing on the side table. He went slowly to the door. ‘You!’ he hissed.

Dr. Pfefferkorn shook his umbrella out on the mat and shed his bulky trench coat. ‘Yes, Von Hutten. My wife persuaded me I ought to see you in person. Get this matter cleared up. We’ve become the laughing-stock of the New York analytical profession.’

‘You may have,’ Von Hutten said coldly. ‘Your ideas are ridiculous and insupportable. I, however, notice no one laughing at me.’

‘That, my dear Von Hutten, is because you are so self-centred that you notice nothing anyone else says.’ Seeing that his host made no motion to invite him in, Pfefferkorn pushed past him and sat in an armchair facing the analyst’s chair. ‘So this is where it all takes place. Sterile atmosphere suitable for the sterile, outmoded ideas you profess.’

Von Hutten nearly ground his teeth. ‘I have no need to see your consulting room—I am sure it is as sloppy as your thinking. As sloppy as your alleged research into Juliet of Cardiff.’

Pfefferkorn frowned. Mrs. Pfefferkorn had persuaded him to make this trek, persuaded him against his better judgement, and now see what came of it: nothing but insults.

‘Look, Von Hutten. Everyone knows your ideas on Juliet of Cardiff are as out of date as your so-called analytical methods. But let’s agree to disagree. We can’t keep escalating this scholarly battle. It takes too much time from my—our—practices.’

Von Hutten almost choked. That you dare call yourself an analyst is an insult to the memory of Freud. Agree to disagree! With you! I will not so demean the analytical profession.’

‘Demean!’ roared Pfefferkorn, springing to his feet. ‘You should be decertified by the New York State Medical Society. Decertified? What am I saying! You should be certified as a lunatic and locked up where you can no longer hurt the innocent and vulnerable.’

Von Hutten jumped at him, grabbing his shoulders. ‘You will eat those words, you miserable scum.’

Dr. Pfefferkorn, equally enraged and seventy-five pounds heavier, wrenched Von Hutten’s hands away and shoved him to the floor. ‘You’re welcome to try to make me do it, Doctor von Hutten. When and where you please, with weapons of your choosing. You’ll live to regret this moment.’

He picked up his dripping trench coat and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

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