Jerry let out a few more short, sneezy barks before dipping his nose into his martini. Damian clapped him on the shoulder.
“Jerry’s not really drunk, Kay. Or too deranged. It’s just that four of his five ex-wives called him today to ask for more alimony. It always brings out his more cynical side.”
“You have five ex-wives?” Kay said. “But you don’t look any older than—”
“Thirty-four,” Jerry interrupted with a slightly lustful look her way. “And presently single. In presentable condition. Five-ten. One seventy-five. Work out at the gym three times a week. And already in love with you, lady lawyer. From the moment you started walking toward the table tonight, I said to myself, ‘Ah, number six.’”
Kay smiled. “Sorry, but six has never been a lucky number for me.”
Jerry exhaled dramatically. He lifted his drink in salute. “Probably just as well. My first five wives all said I’m hell to live with. Stay away from psychologists, Kay. We’re all screwed up. Damian’s afraid to get married and I’m afraid to stay single.”
“Damian’s afraid to get married?” Kay repeated.
Damian punched his friend in the arm. “Careful, Jerry, or Kay and I will both get up and leave you with the check for the drinks.”
Jerry sank his head theatrically to his chest as he winked at Kay. “He always knows he can get me to cower with such vicious financial threats.”
“Stop flirting with my lawyer and let’s see some evidence of all that time you spent with your uncle,” Damian said.
Jerry made a great show of straightening his tie and slicking back his hair, then took a pipe out of his pocket and stuck it unlit into his mouth.
“I am now my professional self,” he announced in an overly dramatic tone. “Let’s get down to business.”
Kay smiled at the antics before asking her first serious question. “Jerry, opposing counsel is putting Upton Van Pratt on the stand. You know who he is?”
“Who doesn’t? Van Pratt is probably the most respected name in psychological circles, one of the major contributors to cognitive therapy. I took a course from him nearly fifteen years ago and he was already a legend then.”
“Do you know how he treats multiple personality disorder?”
“I have no idea. The guy must be close to seventy now. Fifteen, twenty years ago, in his heyday, MPD virtually went undiagnosed. He may have written something on the subject since.”
Damian interrupted. “No. We’ve checked all the journals. We can’t find anything.”
“Well, can’t help you then. One thing I can tell you, although I’m not sure how much help it will be.”
“What?” Kay asked.
“Van Pratt started out as a maverick speed demon in the way he overturned many psychological concepts. But like so many others, he became a middle-of-the-roader in his later years. He’s also become extremely intolerant of fast- or slow-lane travelers.”
“Ideas too old or new, you mean?”
“You’re quick, Kay.”
“Which would he consider Damian’s handling of the Lee Nye case to be?”
“I would suspect he’d see it as speeding down the fast lane.”
“It’s hard for me to accept that a man of Van Pratt’s standing is willing to testify in this trial, Jerry,” Damian interjected. “You know him better than I. Can you suggest what might be making him do it?”
“You didn’t hear? Van Pratt is in financial difficulty. Word is, he had his money in silver and took a beating. To get back on his feet, he’s been hiring himself out to attorneys as their ‘professional’ witness on all sorts of cases dealing with psychological matters.”
Kay leaned her forearms on the table. “Do you mean that Dr. Van Pratt is one of those psychologists who sells his testimony?”
“No. He certainly isn’t one of that despicable bunch. And I don’t mean to imply he’s doing anything unethical. I may not always agree with his middle-of-the-road stands, but Upton Van Pratt is a man of integrity. He’s simply let it be known that if any attorney wishes to have him consult on a case, he will render his expert opinion for a fee. If that expert opinion turns out to be something the attorney would like Van Pratt to repeat under oath in court, he will do so for an additional fee.”
“So you’re saying his opinion will be an honest one and he won’t try to twist the facts for the sake of either fee.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Damian could see that as far as Kay was concerned, that wasn’t good news. He realized that it would have been far easier for her to discredit someone on the stand who was there only for money than someone who would not compromise his principles.
Watching the momentary shadow cross her face almost had Damian missing the next exchange between her and Jerry.
“...to testify on Thursday?” Kay asked.
“Morning or afternoon?”
“My best guess is afternoon.”
“I’ll arrange my schedule to make myself available then.”
“Thank you, Jerry,” Kay said. “I sincerely appreciate your cooperation.”
“Not a problem. Damian did his patient a major favor by extinguishing the Roy personality, believe me. I doubt if I could have pulled it off. There aren’t many psychologists around who would have even thought of it, much less succeeded in doing it.”
“You’ve never extinguished a personality?”
“I would have sworn it couldn’t be done until I saw Damian’s videotapes.”
“You’ve seen all the videotapes?”
“All eighty-five hours’ worth. Being a witness to those tapes is the reason I can be so certain in my support of Damian’s decision in this case. I know you can’t appreciate the unique situation a psychologist finds himself in when he attempts to treat a multiple-personality patient. The time and emotional investment is enormous.”
“Emotional investment?”
“The alters involved in the MPD patient’s system can present a confusing array of exceptionally diverse personalities with varying levels of awareness of one another. When your patient switches to a totally different personality right in front of you, it can be like—”
“An icy chill between the shoulder blades?” Kay finished.
Jerry stared at her. “Yes. Exactly. I’m surprised you—”
“Before they were stolen from my place last Sunday,” Damian interrupted, “I showed Kay some of LeRoy Nye’s videotapes.”
Jerry’s voice rose perceptibly as he leaned toward Damian. “You what? Are you out of your mind? How could you let her—”
“What’s wrong with my seeing them, Jerry?” Kay asked. “I’ve gone through the first two-hour sessions, and with Damian’s help, I’m gaining an understanding of the multiple-personality phenomenon.”
Jerry pushed his martini away, shoved his pipe prop back into his pocket and sat back. “Look, Kay, I don’t care why Damian did it, he shouldn’t have. I sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone but a psychologist trained in MPD see LeRoy Nye’s tapes.”
“I’m a lawyer. I’m bound to secrecy by strict attorney-client privilege.”
“It isn’t disclosure I’m concerned about.”
“What is it, Jerry?”
He leaned forward across the table. Gone was the glib clown. His tone was straight and very, very serious. “You’re not a psychologist who specializes in this stuff, Kay. You’re not screwed up like us. And trust me. You don’t want to be. If Damian ever gets back those tapes, don’t let him show you any more of them. I’m warning you.”
* * *
KAY STOPPED ABRUPTLY beside her car in the parking lot of the restaurant where they had left Dr. Jerry Tummel nursing his third martini. She turned to Damian.
“What’s going on here? What is on those tapes that Jerry was so adamant I not see?”
“Jerry only said what he did to get a rise out of you, Kay.”
“Nice try, Damian. Jerry was in a comfortable, flirty mood until you mentioned m
y seeing those tapes. After that, he got exceptionally stiff and very uncomfortable. His reaction reminded me of that afternoon at my condo when you warned me against watching the rest of those tapes. There’s something you haven’t told me about this case, isn’t there?”
“Like what?”
He was being deliberately evasive and she knew it. Kay leaned against the driver’s-side door of her car and looked up at the man who could seem so open and yet still be so closed.
“It’s something about Lee. Or Roy. Something that’s on the rest of those tapes.”
That impatient hand swept through his hair. The disciplined mind quickly returned it to his side. “Kay, you know as well as I that the police have no leads as to who stole those tapes. Since your chances of ever seeing them are probably nil, why don’t you just forget them?”
“I don’t really have to see the tapes, do I? You know what Jerry was talking about. You could tell me what’s concerning you both so much.”
“Kay, there is a lot that came out in my sessions with the Lee and Roy personalities. There are diametrically opposed...interpretations that can be drawn from certain parts of the uncovered material. Just because Jerry has one viewpoint—”
Kay leaned away from the comforting support of her car. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that Jerry and you don’t agree on the full interpretation of this MPD case?”
“We agreed on the diagnosis and the treatment and that is what ultimately matters.”
“Is it? What happens if I put Jerry on the stand and Croghan asks him if he agreed with all your interpretations on this case? What then?”
“Is Croghan likely to do that?”
“Of course he’s likely to do that. Damian, he’s not going to miss a trick. Damn. We’re in more trouble than I thought. Did Dr. Pat Fetter also disagree with your interpretation of some of the material that came out on those tapes?”
“No. Pat and I were in full agreement.”
“That cinches it. We must have her testify. Did you call her office again today?”
Damian nodded. “They’ve sent off a telegram to be delivered to the retreat. I’ll just have to wait for her to get it and respond.”
“We can’t wait,” Kay declared. “We’ve wasted enough time. We need her testimony. Now more so than ever. I’m calling AJ. She’ll track down the elusive Dr. Pat Fetter.”
“I will, will I?” AJ’s voice asked from out of the shadows.
Kay jumped as AJ slid into view like one of those shadows. “What are you doing here?” she asked the investigator in surprise.
“Tracking you down,” AJ answered simply.
“How did you ever find me?”
“Trade secret. You’ve forced me into using professional methods to keep track of you since you refuse to wear that beeper.”
“Is this urgent?”
“Yes. The other partners are waiting for you back at the office.”
“Waiting for me? Why?”
“Adam thought you’d best all see it together.”
“See what together?” Kay asked.
AJ looked to Damian’s face and back to Kay’s before answering.
“You haven’t heard? Croghan and Mrs. Nye are being interviewed live via satellite by Larry Kind. Your adversary has promised to announce a new development in your case. A big one. Something to do with a guy named Vince Boson. Ring a bell with you, Dr. Steele?”
Chapter Eleven
“Dr. Damian Steele is a violent man, particularly when it comes to multiple-personality patients,” Croghan said as his split-screen image flashed on the screen. “His callous disregard for the life of Roy Nye is only one aspect of his propensity for violence. Eight months ago, Dr. Steele severely beat Mr. Vince Boson, beside me here, and all because Vince was trying to protect one of his wife’s multiple personalities.”
“What’s the story?” Larry Kind asked the man.
Kay’s eyes were glued to the television screen in the firm’s conference room, where she and all the partners sat around the table to watch the show. AJ occupied a chair at the far back, near the door, in that quiet restlessness that was so much a part of her.
Vince Boson moved into camera range. To Kay, he looked like a mountain of a man with a fleshy, disagreeable face.
“All I was doing was trying to get my wife out of his office. She was okay before she started seeing him. But then she started changing, getting these weird moods and acting crazy like. She said this Dr. Steele told her she had a destructive personality inside her and he was working to extinguish it. Bunch of stupid bunk.”
“So you didn’t believe your wife needed this treatment?” Larry Kind asked him.
“‘Course not. Bette was a good wife until she became his patient. Then all of a sudden she started refusing to meet her wifely...uh...duties. Said Steele told her not to. I told her to stop seeing that damn shrink, but he must have hypnotized her or something because she went back. That’s when I knew I had to get her away from him in order to try to save our marriage.”
“And when you went to Dr. Steele’s office to get your wife, that’s when the trouble started?” Larry Kind asked.
“Yeah. Steele came at me. I mean, I didn’t touch the guy, I swear. He just exploded into this uncontrollable rage. I tried to defend myself, but he was like a crazy man. My injuries were so bad that they had to rush me by ambulance to the emergency room at a nearby hospital.”
“The police have confirmed the unprovoked beating of Mr. Boson by Dr. Steele,” Croghan cut in. “Who knows how many other patients and their spouses this man has injured? Who knows how many other personalities have been murdered by him! And Kay Kellogg from the Seattle law firm of Justice Inc. described him to the jury as a committed and compassionate doctor!”
“In case you’ve just tuned in,” Larry Kind said, “we have with us live via satellite Mrs. Fedora Nye and her attorney, Rodney Croghan. Mrs. Fedora Nye is suing psychologist Dr. Damian Steele in Seattle’s King County Superior Court this week for extinguishing her husband’s half of a dual-personality patient. We also have with us Mr. Vince Boson, a victim of an alleged physical attack earlier this year by Dr. Steele, who was apparently trying to eliminate a personality from Mr. Boson’s wife, also diagnosed with multiple personality disorder. Now we’re ready to go to our phone calls. Virginia Beach, Virginia, hello.”
“Mrs. Nye, was your husband a Christian?” a woman’s voice asked.
Mrs. Nye’s split screen image appeared on the TV.
“Y-yes.”
“Then you must give him a Christian burial. Otherwise, his soul will never find its eternal rest.”
“I never thought of that,” Fedora admitted.
“Excellent suggestion,” Croghan said as his image popped up on screen. “Roy’s soul must be laid to rest. I will help Mrs. Nye arrange for a proper ceremony.”
“I’ll just bet he will,” Kay said, crossing her arms over her chest angrily. “Just think of all the additional publicity that will generate for him.”
“Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, hello,” Larry Kind’s voice said.
“My question is for the lawyer,” a man’s voice said. “My cousin is one of these multiple personality people. She says her psychiatrist claims it’s not possible to kill off any personality. Do you think that maybe Roy is still alive somewhere inside this Lee guy?”
“How I only wish that were true,” Croghan lamented, shaking his head sadly. “If we could but return this woman’s husband to her, I would be overjoyed. But, sadly, every visage of Roy has been erased, blotted out as though he never existed.”
“Let’s take a break from our callers and let me ask you a question, Mr. Croghan,” Larry Kind said.
Croghan’s face positively beamed. Kay could see that publicity certainly agreed with him.
“Ask anything you wish, Larry.”
“What exactly do you hope to prove with this trial?”
“To prove, Larry?” Croghan’s TV image looked and sounded shocked at
the question. “I’m not out to prove anything. I just want to remind people that it is only God who has the right to give life, and only God who has the right to take it away. And I want Dr. Damian Steele to know that he is not God!”
The camera switched back to Larry Kind. “In our next segment on tonight’s show, we’ll be meeting with the authors of three new autobiographical books on multiple personality who present the who, what and why. Don’t go away.”
Adam moved over to the TV set in the corner and switched it off.
“I knew I had heard the name Damian Steele before,” Octavia Osborne said from her position at the conference table. “And now I know why.”
“This show has jogged your memory?” Adam said.
“Yes. I was at the police station eight months ago, waiting for a client to be released on bail, when this guy, Vince Boson, was filing his complaint against Dr. Steele. Boson must have just come from the emergency room because he was covered in bandages, everywhere, even his ears.”
“His ears?” Marc Truesdale echoed.
“Yes. The bandages were shooting up and out like this,” Octavia said with appropriate hand gestures. “Boson’s enormous, at least six-six. He looked like a gigantic white rabbit. I remember thinking that if he was the loser, I really wanted to get a look at the winner of that fight. When I asked about Steele, the policeman who took Boson’s complaint got this grin on his face and told me Steele was six inches shorter, didn’t have a scratch on him and had done this damage to Boson with just his bare fists.”
“What else did the detective say?” Adam asked.
“That’s all.”
“Croghan’s mentioning the firm and Kay on a national program means we’ll soon be deluged with calls,” Marc said. “We’ll have to release a statement, so we’d best get prepared. I think that Adam, as senior partner, should answer the inquiries. What are your thoughts, Kay?”
Beauty vs. the Beast Page 18
