by Liz Turner
“Hello. We’re looking to speak to a Mr. Paz.”
There was a moment of silence, and then, “Are you one of Dr. Paz’s patients?”
John couldn’t resist sneaking a look at Jolene. She openly scowled and John smirked to himself. He’d spent most of the car ride listening to her indignation about this Paz guy calling himself a doctor even though, to the best of her knowledge, he’d never attended medical school or received a PhD.
“We’re here on behalf of one of his patients,” John said, hoping the woman would have no additional questions.
“I see. Which patient?”
He looked at Jolene again, who nodded, urging him to tell the truth. Biting the inside of his cheek, John nodded back, thinking to himself that he should have known that would be Jolene’s suggestion. She was such a firm believer in the pursuit of the truth, and always wanted to avoid deceit if possible, even when John could think of a thousand easier ways.
“Lucy Fielder,” he said, ensuring that he came across as completely confidant rather than hesitant.
“Hold, please,” came the woman’s curt reply. After about two minutes of silence, the intercom turned on again. “Please, pull forward.”
A beeping noise sounded, and the gate began to swing open.
After parking, John and Jolene walked in through old wooden double-doors that needed a fresh coat of paint.
Why haven’t they done renovations? John wondered uneasily. But upon entering, he understood. The inside of the place resembled a boutique hotel, save for one that incorporated medical services. Nurses milled around, wearing impeccable white outfits. Velvet sofas and small walnut tables were placed tastefully around the enormous lobby area. The floors were made of high-quality wood, and the ceiling had been altered with a series of large skylights. The lobby, however, didn’t have overhead lighting, relying entirely on the ample sunshine filtering in from above.
“The outside disrepair must be a show,” he whispered to Jolene.
She nodded. “They don’t want to draw attention to the place since they have celebrities and wealthy people as their clientele.” She gestured to the desk in the center of the lobby with a sign written in calligraphy that read: YOU’RE HERE NOW, AND WE’RE HERE FOR YOU.
“Hello,” Jolene said to the woman at reception. “We’re here to see Dr. Paz.”
The woman—tall, thin, and of Asian descent—smiled broadly. “Certainly. Are you relatives of Lucy Fielder?” She looked the pair over. “Or are you with the police?”
John met Jolene’s gaze. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “We’re with the state,” he lied. Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “We’re here to speak to Dr. Paz about Lucy’s crimes. Get a read on where her head might have been. But we’d rather you not share that information with anybody. We don’t want to incite a panic about the police making an appearance.”
“Oh, we’re well-trained to handle any panic. That’s a large part of what we do here,” the woman said. “Please sign in and Dr. Paz will see you shortly, given the time-sensitive nature of your visit.”
“Thank you,” Jolene said. She shot a glare at John, letting him know she wasn’t happy about his fib.
Soon, a nurse wearing the same white outfit as the rest came into the lobby and signaled for John and Jolene. John wondered how the nurse knew who they were.
“Dr. Paz is ready for you,” the nurse, a tall and muscular man, said. He led them through a pair of frosted glass double-doors and down a long hallway and stopped before an ordinary door with a small placard that read ‘DR. MOSES PAZ’.
The nurse opened the door for them and left.
The office was empty. John looked at Jolene, but she was busy taking in the room, examining the décor. It was about the size of a guest bedroom and decorated with a bohemian lean. A turquoise tapestry covered most of the back wall. A light wood desk stood in the center, strewn with papers and several small wooden carvings of exotic animals. John marveled at a wooden hippopotamus the size of his thumb.
“Hello, hello!”
John turned to see a small man in the doorway, wearing a white lab coat over what looked like a silk sari. He was a good foot shorter than John, and his hair was graying and wisped around his head. It struck John that he’d never seen a man who looked more like a mad scientist than Dr. Paz.
“Hello,” Jolene said, shaking the man’s hand. John followed suit as Jolene introduced them, using his initial lie about the state police.
Dr. Paz sobered when Lucy Fielder’s name was brought up. “Yes,” he said, sitting into his chair and gesturing for John and Jolene to take the plush seats opposite him. “That was quite the unfortunate revelation. A surprise to me though I don’t think to her relatives. That’s what they claimed when they brought her in, saying she had snapped and…well, you know. That awful plot with the cyanide.”
“You were surprised to hear her confession?” Jolene asked. John noticed her surreptitiously sneaking a hand into her handbag and heard the faint telltale click of a tape recorder.
“Frankly, yes,” Paz said. He had the soothing, buttery voice of a motivational speaker. John understood why patients would be willing to share their secrets with this man and wondered what else he might know.
“May we ask why?” John said politely. “Especially if you believe, in your professional opinion, that there was nothing wrong with the girl.”
The doctor blinked at John. “No, no—she was certainly troubled. That was clear from the beginning. She was panicked. In shock. She hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, nor had she eaten. But after those basic needs were met, she became much better. She was sweet, even if a little jumpy.” He paused and looked briefly to the ceiling. “I suppose she was most likely repressing the memory of what she’d done. It’s an extraordinary example of our mind’s ability to compartmentalize. She was…playing games in the courtyard, speaking with the orderlies, not showing any signs of guilt.”
“Let me see if I understand,” Jolene said. “You were treating her for trauma, which included a hypnotherapy session. And it was during that session that Lucy suddenly confessed to murdering her uncle?”
Paz nodded, a pained expression on his face. “That’s right.”
“And who is the staff hypnotherapist?” Jolene asked, jotting on her notepad.
“Me,” Paz replied, surprised. “I’m sorry. I thought that was clear. She confessed during her second session with me.”
“And you immediately called the police and turned her in?” John asked.
The doctor shifted in his chair. “Yes. It’s… I’m under an obligation to report any crimes to the police. I don’t have the doctor-patient confidentiality due to a technicality with my license.”
John looked at Jolene and saw the corner of her lips twitch upward.
“Believe me,” Paz continued, “I was conflicted about turning her in, but with a full confession like hers—with details on the step-by-step actions she took for such a violent crime—I couldn’t risk not telling the police.” Lost in thought, he leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. Suddenly, he jerked his head upright, looking frightened. “Are you two here to prove the police wrong? To prove Lucy didn’t do it?”
John grunted. “We’re, er…with the state police. Didn’t your secretary tell you?”
Paz waved his hand. “Pah! She did, but I doubted it. Your manner is all wrong. I’ve dealt with my fair share of state agents.”
John paled. If they were caught lying during the investigation, then any chance at being taken seriously would be gone. And, more importantly, Jolene would kill him for ruining it for her.
But then Paz added, “Look, I don’t care who you are. But if it turns out that Lucy committed no such crime, then I’m liable to be sued for damages. So do me a favor and be honest with me. Are you two fishing for a lawsuit?”
“We’re lawyers,” Jolene said matter-of-factly.
Paz groaned. “Everything I’ve told you is off the record!” He bega
n mumbling under his breath.
“We just want the truth, Dr. Paz,” Jolene said. “No lawsuits. It sounds like you were just doing your job.”
“You said yourself that you liked Lucy Fielder, right?” John said. “And that you still can’t believe she could do something like kill her only close relative. You don’t want her to go to prison for the rest of her life if she didn’t actually commit that murder, do you?”
Paz shook his head.
“Then help us understand what happened in that hypnosis room,” John urged.
“I can do you one better,” Paz said after a moment. He took a chain from around his neck, which contained a small silver key. He inserted it into one of his desk drawers. After rummaging around for a few seconds, he pulled out a small thumb drive and slid it across the table. “Here.”
Jolene and John looked at him blankly.
“It’s Lucy’s confession during our session. I record everything so that I can review it later for diagnostic purposes. I’ve listened to that session a dozen times, and each time, I feel like she was telling the truth about the murder—as impossible as that seems. The details, her delivery, her word choices…It was all too much to have been invented.”
Jolene reached across the desk and swiped the drive before John could wrap his mind around what they’d just been given. His head screamed that they were violating some ethical code, but since Paz didn’t have the patient-doctor confidentiality granted to doctors who’d actually gone to medical school, he supposed that this at least wasn’t illegal.
Chapter 3
A Bottle of Poison
Once back at the Parks and Walter offices in Los Angeles, Jolene quickly made an excuse to cancel her upcoming meeting and beelined for her office with John following closely behind her.
She fingered the thumb drive as she opened her laptop and waited for it to turn back on. John remained silent, but took the chair she offered him. She plugged the drive in and opened the file. Paz’s melodic voice came through the speakers.
“Breathe. Close your eyes. You’re feeling each breath go into your body and then out… That’s good. In…and out…I’m going to count down from ten and when I get to one, you’ll find yourself in the house you shared with your uncle. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, and one. Are you there?”
At this point, a small mumble—Lucy—was heard. “Mmm-hmm.”
“Good. Tell me what you see.”
Lucy’s small voice was breathy, and the pauses in her speech seemed odd times. “I…see the kitchen. The floors. Wooden floors and steel stove and refrigerator and sink. There’s a yellow towel over the sink.”
“Good, Lucy. Now, who do you see?”
“I… see Rebekah. Lucas. The colonel.”
“They’re all in the kitchen? Good. Where’s your uncle? Is he not there? Then where is he?”
“The study.”
“Good, Lucy. Good. Stay in the kitchen for a moment. Can you tell me what’s happening?”
“I’m making cocoa. Rebekah would watch me make it and Lucas…upstairs. The colonel is grinding rocks for sand for the walkway in the back.”
“Good. And your uncle is waiting for his cocoa, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“So, what do you do? Okay, Lucy. That’s all right. Describe the smells to me. What does it smell like in the kitchen?”
“Like…Chocolate. The beach. Flowers.”
“And what do you do?”
“Takes a pill of potassium cyanide and put…it in a plastic bag. Crush. Crush. Crush. I… pours it in…to cocoa.”
“And then what, Lucy?”
“I took it to the study. For who’s in there.”
“You served it to your uncle? Okay. Thank you, Lucy. Can you tell me what happened next?”
“He—I…drove to Toluca Lake. Windy and bright. Threw the pill bottle into the water. I made sure it sank because I put a shotgun shell inside.”
“Okay, I see. Did you know your uncle was dead? No? Can you tell me… Lucy, okay, okay. It’s okay. Shhhh…Betty, can you come in here, please? Bring the sedatives! Right away!”
The recording ended.
Jolene leaned back in her chair and looked at John, bewildered. “That was…”
“Odd,” he finished.
She nodded. “Yes. But then again, it was a hypnotherapy session.” She thought for a moment. “I understand what must have spooked Dr. Paz so much though.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, her descriptions were quite specific. Crushing the pills in a plastic bag and then pouring it into his cocoa? She didn’t just say she poisoned him. She described how.”
John ran his hands through his hair. “You’re right about that. And then, the business about throwing the pill bottle into the lake is not something that’s been in the police reports, nor was she prompted to go to that scene in her mind.” He whistled. “That, at least, is something that’s verifiable. So…you think she actually did it?”
Jolene frowned, disturbed by the recording. But she felt something still wasn’t right about Lucy’s words despite how specific they had been. Without saying a word, she started the recording again, wanting to take a second listen.
***
The next morning, Jolene drove out to Toluca Lake. It was a warm and sunny day, so she didn’t think she’d be noticed poking around. She drove her car down the main road that led to the picnic area—the most popular part of the lake. She was banking on Lucy’s minimal knowledge of the area and her shock, hoping the girl hadn’t gone looking for a secluded place around the water, but had just driven up to Toluca the way she probably had done a dozen times before.
After parking, Jolene moseyed among the visitors. She had donned a pair of jean shorts, a tank top, and a baseball cap, not wanting to be asked any questions about why she was there in trousers and a blazer.
She spotted an ice cream truck parked at the end of the parking lot and decided to buy a cone while she looked around. “One mint chip waffle cone, please,” she said. “Thanks.” She handed over her change for the ice cream and returned the lake’s shore.
Her eyes roved over the different paths from the parking to the beach. Foster Fielder had been murdered on a weekday, so she guessed there wouldn’t have been many people.
But still… she thought.
She then spotted a path that headed over a small bluff. It concealed the shoreline in that one part from the parking lot, and a small smattering of food vendors. She clambered up the path. When she got to the other side of the bluff, she saw a group of boys, all appearing to be ten to twelve years old, taking turns submerging themselves in the water with a single pair of goggles.
She shielded her eyes from the sun and tried to imagine what Lucy would have done.
She’s panicked, she’s in shock… not looking for a great place to get rid of the bottle, just a good enough place…
Much of the shoreline came in to the beach—not the best place to throw something. The waves would have kept dragging it back, and if Lucy had thrown it there, it would have been long gone by now, picked up by one of the rangers who cleaned the park.
Jolene decided to hope that she’d be lucky—that Lucy hadn’t decided to throw it straight from the beach into the shallow water licking the shore.
Maybe… she thought. Yes! There!
She spotted a cluster of boulders stretching about seven feet into the lake. Rounded and smooth, the boulders were easy enough to walk on. Jolene supposed that if Lucy had come to this place, she might have been smart enough to climb on the boulders and throw the pill bottle into deeper water. If that was the case though, Jolene realized it would be next to impossible to retrieve it. And if she couldn’t retrieve it, how would she confirm her suspicion?
“Hi there,” she said, ambling over to the group of boys. She did her best to look maternal, or at least like a respected aunt. “Do you guys want to make fifty bucks?”
The boys popped their bodies
out of the water, staring at her. One of them, a boy with long brown hair, stepped forward confidently. “Fifty bucks? Doing what?” he demanded.
“I lost something the other day in the water. I’m wondering if one of you could use your goggles to search for it. Even if you don’t find it, I’ll still pay you.”
“What’d you lose?” the first boy asked.
“A bottle of medicine. I was standing on that boulder up there when they must have fallen out of my bag. But I need them back.”
“Okay,” the boy said with a shrug and then turned towards his friends. “Aaron, you do it.” He took the goggles from a short blond boy and passed them to another.
“Why does he get to do it?” demanded the blond. He was so sunburned, it made Jolene flinch to look at him.
“Because Aaron’s the best swimmer,” the first boy answered.
Jolene’s eyes widened apprehensively. “Oh, yes—you, er… you can swim well, right? Don’t do it if you think—”
“No problem,” said the boy apparently called Aaron. He lumbered over to the boulder and lowered himself down into the water, shooting the group on the shore a cheeky thumbs-up before disappearing.
As soon as he had gone under, Jolene got a sinking feeling in her gut, wondering what she would do if something happened to the kid. But soon enough, the boy was hoisting himself back onto the boulder and climbing back down to shore, carrying a white object in his hand. “This it?” he asked, grinning.
Jolene held out her hand for the bottle and examined it. It was a clear small tube with a powdery solution—not at all what she’d expected. There was a black ball rattling around inside of it.
A bullet.
“Yes,” Jolene said. Smiling triumphantly, she pulled out her wallet and handed the boys the cash she had promised. “Thank you so much!”
Once in her car, she called the office.
“Hello, Park and Walter Attorneys at Law,” came Molly’s voice.
“Molly, it’s me,” Jolene said. “I need you to call in a favor at the lab we helped out two years ago.”
“Helms?”
