Page 80 of Oddly Fine

“Why? Was psychiatric counselling court ordered?” Hayes didn’t know much about the oldest son of the Rosario family, but he’d heard enough about them in the news to gather that seeing a therapist would not have been high on their list of things to do for entertainment.

“No,” Franklin said, shaking his head. “He booked an appointment at the center where I work, and he was referred to me.”

“The center?” Hayes asked, wondering how he’d missed this part of Franklin’s life. He could recall Beckett mentioning something about his brother’s psychiatric practice, and his job at the local university, but he didn’t remember ever hearing about a center.

“I work at a wellness center outside the city. It prides itself on offering the best possible care while preserving the privacy of its patients.”

“So—rehab for the rich?” Beckett easily translated the glossy brochure lingo his brother was spouting.

“Among other things. They offer all kinds of services. Plastic surgery, rejuvenation treatments, rehabilitation therapy—and yes, most of my clients are—very well off. We cater to most of the local celebrities. And just like anyone else, Matthew called in—was referred to me, and showed up at my office for some counselling.”

“Is there a punchline to this story? Your babysitters have us under a time constraint,” Beckett said, gesturing towards the guys hanging out in the living room.

“Matthew came in—with a lot on his chest. And he quickly began to confess things.”

“Things? Could you be a tad more specific? What are we talking here? Running around the house in his mother’s knickers, or kicking orphans for fun on Sundays?” Beckett asked with a sarcastic sneer, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“He mostly spoke about his family business. Drug trafficking and money laundering—the occasional clean up job.” Franklin swallowed hard on the last one.

“Why did you keep him as a patient?” Hayes understood that in the initial counselling sessions, Franklin would not have known much about the guy he was treating. But after Matthew started confessing things about the criminal enterprise his family had built in Montreal, Franklin should have re-assessed his position of counsellor to a known criminal.

“Pride, I guess,” Franklin admitted without any sign of his usual arrogance. “I literally had a Mafia boss in my office. He wanted to talk to me. Hell, he needed to talk to me. I felt—important. And then, well—he was genuinely distraught. Here was a powerful man, handed a life and a burden he didn’t really want, and caught in the middle of so many storms. I suppose I began to empathize, which was definitely my first mistake.”

“What happened?” Hayes pressed him for more details to get the full picture.

Franklin took a deep breath and sat up straighter.

“At first, we talked about his guilt. About the family name and what it meant to him. He was struggling to balance the expectations of his family, and his own desires. It was a rather complex issue. Occasionally, he’d mention a past—struggle, but there was nothing I could do about those—eh—indiscretions.”

“Indiscretions—is that code for big fat crimes?” Beckett leaned forward, suddenly fully engaged in the story.

Franklin gave a sharp nod.

“And you didn’t want to go to the cops?” Beckett asked skeptically.

“Our sessions fall under doctor-patient confidentiality. Besides, Matthew was never really—hands on in any major offense.”

“Matthew? You’re on a first name basis with a Mafia mob boss?” Beckett’s voice was a little high-pitched.

“You mean he doesn’t hold the gun,” Hayes said, correctly interpreting Franklin’s statement.

Franklin nodded, ignoring his brother’s questions.

“What exactly are the limits of doctor-patient confidentiality?” Beckett asked with a frown.

“Generally speaking, anything that was done, is protected. I can only break the confidentiality agreement if they intend to do harm to others or themselves in the future.”

“Alright, so this guy would pay you to sit there and listen to the horrible things he—” Beckett quickly corrected himself, “his family—had done. Why?”

Franklin sighed and picked at the veneer flaking off the cheap tabletop.

“He was born into it. It isn’t a life he’d have chosen for himself—he was trapped, and it began to be overwhelming. He came to see me because he genuinely needed someone to talk to.” Frankin stared fixedly at the tabletop, refusing to look up.

Hayes had a niggling feeling of suspicion about the true nature of Franklin’s role in Matthew’s life.

“But something changed.”

Franklin nodded and looked up at them guiltily.