Alex Delaware - 11 - The Clinic by Jonathan Kellerman

Author:Jonathan Kellerman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9780345463760
Published: 2003-04-02T05:00:00+00:00

When we returned to the office, both Storms were smoking cigars and an ashtray had appeared on the desk.

“Panamanian?” said Milo.

Senior nodded and blew enough smoke to hide his facial features. Junior smirked.

Milo set up the tape recorder, recited the date and place, his badge number, and Junior’s name as the subject of an “in-person interview with regard to one-eight-seven PC, Coroner’s Case Number nine-four dash seven-seven-six-five, Professor Hope Devane.”

Hearing her name wiped the smirk off Junior’s face. He smoked and fought back a cough.

Bateman and I sat down but Milo remained on his feet.

“Afternoon, Kenny.”

Grunt.

“Do you know why we’re here?”

Grunt.

“How many times did you meet Professor Devane?”

Grunt.

“You’re going to have to speak up.”

“Once.”

“When was that?”

“The committee.”

“The hearing of the Interpersonal Conduct Committee chaired by Professor Devane?”

Grunt.

“What’s that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve read transcripts of that hearing, son. Sounds like things got pretty heated.”

Grunt.

“What’s that?”

“She was a bitch.”

Senior took his cigar out. “Ken.”

“Hey, tell it like it is,” said his son.

“So you didn’t like her,” said Milo.

“Don’t put words into his mouth,” ordered Senior.

Milo looked down at him. “Okay, we’ll stick to quotes: You think she was a bitch.”

Senior’s mouth got piggish and Bateman made a go-easy gesture with his hand.

Milo repeated the question.

Junior shrugged. “She was what she was.”

“Which was?”

“A fucking bitch.”

“Ken!”

“Mr. Storm,” said Milo. “Please stop interrupting.”

“He’s my son, dammit, and it’s my right to—”

“Ken,” said Bateman. “It’s okay.”

“Right,” said Senior. “Everything’s okay, everything’s just great.”

“Counselor,” said Milo.

Bateman got up and put a hand on Senior’s shoulder. Senior shook him off and smoked furiously.

“What,” said Milo, “made you think she was a bitch, Kenny?”

“The way she acted.”

“More specific.”

“The way she set me up.”

“Set you up how?”

“That letter telling me we were just going to discuss things.”

“At the hearing.”

“Yeah. When I got there, the way she tried to get Cindy to say I was some kind of rapist, which is total bullshit.” Sidelong glance at his father. “It was just a dumb hassle between Cindy and me. Later, she called me.”

“Professor Devane did?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Afterward.”

“After the hearing?”

“Yeah.”

“How long after?”

“The next day. At night. I was at the Omega house.”

“Why’d she call?”

“To try to freak me out.”

“In what way, son?”

“She was pissed because her little game was a loser.”

“How’d she try to freak you out?”

“She said even if Cindy didn’t want to press charges, I had problems—impulse-control problems, some bullshit like that. She said she could make things rough for me if I didn’t behave.”

“She threatened you?”

The boy shifted in his seat, looked at his cigar, and put it in the ashtray. His father stared at him.

“She didn’t exactly come out and say it, more like hinting.”

“Hinting how?”

“I don’t remember the exact words. Like I’ll be watching, I’m in control, you know?”

“Did she use the word “control’?” I said.

“No—I don’t know. Maybe—it was more like how she said it, you know? Watch your step. Or something like that. She was a radical.”

“Radical?” said Milo.

“Left-wing.”

“She discussed her political views with you?”

The boy smiled. “No, but it was obvious. Radical feminism, trying to establish a new order, know what I mean?”

“Not really, son.

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