by Glenn Smith
"But you had my number—you called me this morning."
"I got it from Laura last night. She called me as I was driving back to Austin. She wanted to tell me that it was she with whom you were sitting in the Menger bar. She told me some things about you including that you often help people in trouble. I was glad to get your number because I find you attractive. I didn't know at that moment I had a problem, but I definitely do—have a problem, that is. So I called you this morning.”
Ava sounded less calm than she looked. So Flint asked: “How scared are you?”
“Enough to not sleep. I was awake all night thinking about my current patients and those I've finished with. It was the only place I could think of to start. I have treated or am still treating a total of nearly thirteen hundred people in the past five years, some only once or a few times and some as much as weekly for five years. I focused on the men because a higher percentage of psychopaths are males. Running a person off the road with a truck seems to be a male tactic more than a woman's.”
Flint nodded. “It does. Do you have a short list of male suspects?”
“Yes. Of the nearly six hundred males I have treated, two hundred and six stand out as having personalities that are compatible with displaced anger. However, only eleven of them might have the personality configuration to kill, and I'm not sure of four of those names."
Ava walked to her printer, brought back a page which she handed to Flint. "Having sociopathic personality characteristics does not in itself indicate killers. They can be sharp operators on Wall Street or successful black ops or special forces troops and at least seem to be in step with society."
Flint took the paper from her, said as he looked at her, "how about someone who has never been one of your medical patients? Someone from another part of your life? From Italy before you came to the States? Or maybe someone who had a grievance against your husband or his family?"
Ava poured more tea as she thought. "I don't know of anything connected to Joe or his father or mother." She paused. "That's not accurate. About a year before I met Joe, his father was sued by a rancher for malpractice. Immediately after Joe's dad won, someone set fire to their house. The police never identified the arsonist."
"How about before you came to the states?"
"I don't see how it is related, but I did know a powerful man in Italy. He is dead now. The Immigration and Naturalization Service asked me about him when I was applying for United States citizenship. The agent who interviewed me said the man was Mafioso. I was a call girl when I knew him. I thought that he was mob connected, but he never discussed those things in front of me. He was shot a few years ago. Somewhere in the States. I became, not friends but friendly with his mother. His mom phoned me crying. I had not seen him for years. His mother still lives in Naples. I hear from her a couple of times a year."
Ava sipped tea,
Flint asked, "any of your thirteen hundred clients die or become disabled?"
Ava paused. "Yes. Nine have died—that I know about. Four of cancer, three heart attacks, one of a stroke, and one more that I am not sure about the cause of death. There may be others that I don't know about. Some people stay in communication with me after treatment ends, some do not."
"Anyone blame you for any of the deaths?'
"No. A least I don't think so."
Flint was quiet, thinking, then said, “of course a woman could have stolen that truck and driven it aggressively last night. The model Harry described to me could be driven by anyone who can drive a stick shift. How about female clients who might hold you responsible for something they don’t like about themselves or their lives?”
Ava looked at him intensely. “I’ll make that list right away.”
“While you are at it, do you have any clients who don’t do well with hypnosis or who refuse to let you use it?”
Ava’s eyes widened. “What makes you ask?"
“Because you spent a year in India learning about it. I assume that you find it a fast and powerful tool for bypassing guilty secrets. Those who are hiding something while pretending to ask you to know them might be worth another look.”
Ava smiled, a spontaneous wide smile. “I like the way you think Flint. It’s a short list. In fact no one has refused, but three people were hard of hearing and had trouble with focus. They came for only two appointments and did not return.”
Ava sat at her computer and typed. Flint looked at the titles of the spines of books on her rich wooden shelves, then stared through the glass wall at the wet central Texas landscape. When the page emerged from Ava's printer, she stood and handed it to him.
Ava’s phone sounded. It was Laura calling to reschedule her psychoanalysis appointment. Ava had phoned all of her clients before 8:00 A.M. She decided to clear her calendar for the following week. She rearranged appointments for all but nineteen who did not answer. Perhaps they had stayed up late seeing the old year out. She had left messages for them.
Seconds after Ava hung up, her phone rang again. It was another call back from a client asking to reschedule. Flint watched Ava’s body become more erect. Her voice tone stayed friendly but he heard a slight change. No suggested time was agreeable for the person to whom Ava was talking. By the time Ava hung up, Flint knew she did not like the conversation.
He almost let it go, but then he couldn’t think why he should. “You don’t like the last caller as much as you do Laura,” he observed.
Ava paused, looked a little surprised. “Did it show that much? It’s a woman whom I’ve been treating for only a few weeks. A colleague retired because of ill health. He recommended me to her. However, something about me seems to offend her. I have suggested that she find someone else. I gave her names and phone numbers of three local possibilities, but she hasn't called them yet.” Ava thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, she is a person who doesn't really go into trance. She says that she has never been able to relax."
Ava’s phone sounded again. “I have several more clients to reschedule. It may take me an hour or more.”
Flint knew he could enjoy the day hanging out with Ava. He also knew that she was tired and stuck. And he needed to talk to Zeta and Harry. He gave Ava his card in case she needed his mobile phone number. “I will call you in a couple of hours,” he said.
“This means you will keep helping me?”
“All I can.”
She gave him a long tight hug. Flint left knowing she would not mind if he kissed her. He would not have objected either. But he knew that should wait. Her appointment schedule demanded to be dealt with.
Chapter 5
As a surgeon worked on Bill Murphy's knee at San Leonardo Hospital on Europe Street in Naples, Flint nodded to the woman at the reception desk in the lobby of the Austonian. He had already selected Zeta’s number in his electronic address book. While her phone rang, he watched chilled raindrops slide down the plate glass as he looked at Congress Avenue.
“Flint.”
“Zeta! I can meet you now if you are available.”
“Can you come here? It’s at 5805 North Lamar.”
“Yes, I know the place. Might take me half an hour.” But traffic was light on Saturday morning, New Year's day. Twenty minutes later, Flint parked at the single story facility that houses Texas Ranger headquarters. Harry met him in the parking lot so he could keycard him into the building..
"Look at you!" Flint exclaimed upon seeing Zeta. At 5' 4" she weighed 112 pounds. She was wearing a knee length off white A-line skirt, tall cowgirl boots, a white blouse with a neck tab instead of a tie, a contrasting leather vest, and a light colored soft Stetson cowgirl hat.
"It's not her working uniform," Harry noted, "but it is unofficial Ranger attire for weddings, funerals, and group photos. She and the other women Rangers normally wear slacks or jeans to work. Every Ranger dresses as he or she chooses, but Stetson's and western boots are still common. Zeta and I were at a New Year's party last night when the EMTs pulled you out of what was left of your
car. I got a few hours of sleep, but she came here when she left the party."
Zeta had only been on the job for three days. Harry had filled her in on Ranger history and dos and don'ts. She was a natural learner, an expert with firearms, thoroughly practiced in the Tang Soo Do tradition of martial arts—and she was the most intuitive computer genius in the United States and China combined. At least that was Flint's opinion.
"Hey Flint. How about teaching me to fly? Instrument ticket too. The Texas Department of Public Safety won't pay for it though."
"I'll teach you for free."
"Okay, I'm ready now, but maybe we better take care of this thing with Dr. Milan. What do you think of her?"
"She strikes me as the real deal, an original—like you."
Zeta offered Flint coffee and a chair in a room used for interrogation of suspects. Harry sat also and spoke. "I know a CIA agent in Italy named Bill Murphy. Murphy called me from a Naples hospital a few minutes before you got here. An informant of his has been killed and Murphy thinks it was connected to Ava Milan's situation."
"Did he say what the connection was?"
"No. I'm not sure whether he doesn't know or isn't saying."
Flint pulled out the sheets of paper containing names that Ava had supplied and explained what they were. Zeta walked to her desk, typed them into a program she had developed for quickly searching data bases to build accurate profiles of individuals. Her software was a refinement of what some internet based social networks had developed to sell individual personality profiles to advertisers.
While Zeta was at her desk, Harry filled Flint in on what he had learned from Murphy about the Mafioso's mother, Gina Francesca Lezioni. He also commented on his friend Murphy's competence and reliability which he admired. By the time Zeta came back after being gone slightly more than twenty minutes, the two men were reminiscing about how they had met in Marine Corps officer basic. From there Flint had gone to flight training and Harry had become an intelligence specialist before he left the Marines and became a Texas Ranger. Flint and Murphy were the right vintage to have met in the Marines but their paths had just missed each other.
Zeta returned. "Flint I have sent a document to your email. You can read it at your leisure. It is a government report written by a CIA analyst. It strongly suggests, but offers only circumstantial evidence, that Gina Francesca may have been the force behind her son's mob activities. In fact, the author of the report thinks she may have had her son assassinated. Dr. Milan is mentioned as a person of interest, in fact as a possible confederate who may be an information conduit between Signora Lezioni and a man from Naples who has been Dr. Milan's patient for nearly five years. His name is Freddy Gambini, a name that is on Dr. Milan's list of most likely male suspects." Zeta paused as she and Harry looked at Flint.
"You are wanting a reaction from me?" Flint commented when Zeta kept silent.
"Yes," responded Harry.
"I don't know enough to say impossible. But it feels highly unlikely," Flint said.
"What if she passed along information without realizing it?" Harry asked.
"The info would have to have been very subtle and not something on a regular basis," Flint speculated. "Any evidence that Signora Lezioni or her son knew Gambini?"
"Yes," Zeta supplied. "The report says that Gambini is a cousin of the mother, therefore a more distant cousin of the son."
"Sounds like it needs to be pursued on the ground in Italy," Harry noted. "You up for that, Flint?"
"I could be. You offering to come along?"
"Sounds interesting, but neither Zeta nor I will be smiled on to go. Our budget is always stretched thin and the leads in this case are too tenuous to justify trips to Europe."
"One more thing," Flint said. "I wonder if one of you can find out who was in the Menger bar from around 3:45 to a little after 5:00 yesterday. I mean behind the bar. Especially around 4:10 to 4:15." Flint described Ava's leaving the card. "That seems the only time someone could have observed any connection between Ava and me. Unless Ava is lying. They would have had to watch me leave the bar an hour later in order to have stolen the dump truck and run me off the road. The waitress named Shana whom I mentioned to Harry didn't look hostile,” Flint said, “but she did walk two blocks to tell me I had forgotten the card."
"I'll check it out," Harry offered. "Any chance your friend Laura is implicated in some way?"
Flint looked pensive. "She is the only person who knew I would go to the Menger and leave a little after 5:00. She might have told someone. I haven't known her long and don't know her well. Wouldn't hurt to find out more I suppose. She is also a client of Ava's." He spelled Laura Ann Syms’s name for Zeta, pushed his chair back and stood.
Zeta and Harry promised to call or email him anything new. They parted with handshakes and well wishes.
Inside his rental car, Flint called a private American Airlines employee number, asked about standby possibilities to Rome. Flint could fly standby free on American as a retired employee—if there were empty seats at flight time. A flight was scheduled to leave in two hours from Austin through Dallas and London. There were seats. He picked up Interstate 35 South, grabbed an always packed carryon at his house. He was in long term parking at Bergstrom Field in time to walk onto the flight as the doors were ready to close. The flight attendant put him in 2B, first class. He told Ava by phone he was headed to Italy.
Flint hung up, then said to his phone that he wanted Laura Syms. She answered on the second ring.
"Flint. I was thinking of calling you. How did you get on with Dr. Milan?"
"Well enough I think. I understand you gave her my number last night."
"Yes, always trying to help. I gather you have talked with her. What do you think?"
Flint ignored Laura's query. "I have a question for you."
"Ask. No let me guess. You wonder if I can still get us a room at the Menger."
Flint smiled and said, "actually I need to know if you told anyone about you and me meeting at the Menger yesterday."
"No. I was in San Antonio for a meeting which ended sooner than expected. It was warm enough out to have coffee on the River. I did that at the Hard Rock Cafe. Sitting there watching tourists float by, I decided to call you to see if you wanted to relax. After you and I agreed to meet, I had an hour and a half to kill. I did a little after Christmas shopping. I didn't talk to anyone except you and two store clerks. My chats with them were perfunctory, no important content. Incidentally, seeing you was a treat, even if you didn't stay as long as I wanted. Why do you ask?"
Flint explained, telling her about the stolen truck and the two wrecks.
"Wow! How exciting! Hey, I hope you don't mind that I gave your number to Dr. Milan."
Flint said he didn't mind. "How well do you know our waitress, he girl who calls herself Shana?" he added.
"Well enough to know that Shana is not her real name, but . . . not very well. I don't know her family name. I think her real given name is Margaret. She got angry at a customer who called her Maggie. She has waited on me a couple of times in the last three months. I paid her $10 to chase you down and give you Ava's card. Where did she catch you?"
"In the high rise garage where I was parked. She walked in the rain. Were you still in the bar when she returned?"
"I don't remember her getting back. I was in the bar for another hour. I was flirting with a computer salesman and then with a cowboy guitar player from Mexico. What makes you ask?"
Flint explained, telling her about the throw away phone found in his car." Laura understood, asked what he planned to do next.
"I'm on a fight to Dallas and then to Heathrow in London and on to Rome. From there I'll take a train to the Bristol Hotel in Sorrento just outside of Naples. It's been years since I was there."
"Hey, want company?"
"Sounds nice but we are already taxiing."
"The Bristol, eh. Don't be surprised if you look up and see me. I'm a lobbyist, remember. The politicos are
all with their families for a few more days. I am already bored."
They hung up. Flint's oversized wristwatch told him it was 2:39 as he heard the gear go from down and locked to up and clean. DFW was busy and efficient as always. Heathrow was bleak and cold early morning January 2. His British Airways code share flight to Rome, due at 2:05 P.M., was five minutes ahead of schedule. Rome was 54° F and sunny.
Flint changed dollars to lira, jumped on a train to the central station, got to it a minute after the 3:00 P.M. fast train departed. No sweat. He reserved for an hour later, ordered a café della casa and lemon tart. His ultra smooth, ultra fast bullet train departed on time, cushed in to Naples an hour and ten minutes after leaving Rome. The local to Sorrento took fifty minutes more. A taxi dropped him at the Bristol Hotel well before 7:00 P.M. local time.
