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Chapter 35
The next morning,I had an appointment with Emily’s psychiatrist. She knew, thanks to calls from both Emily’s mother and Bobby Patel, that I was involved with the case.
Her office was two rooms in a professional building occupied by a few lawyers and a plastics company and located in Columbia Heights near the Smithsonian National Zoological Park. With no receptionist monitoring the waiting room, she opened the door to her office almost immediately.
I introduced myself and shook hands with the sixty-year-old Elizabeth Zeta. Her long dark hair had dignified streaks of gray. Her brown eyes were clear as she gave me a quick once-over. She had nice laugh lines around her eyes. I like that in people. I noted diplomas from Notre Dame. As Seamus would call it, the Holy Grail of the Catholic community.
She offered me a chair in front of her desk, but my eye was drawn to the green leather couch. In movies, psychiatrists always have similar couches. I really wanted to ask if I could lie on it while we spoke. I realized that would be unprofessional, so I sat in the offered chair. She sat in a second chair across from it.
Dr. Zeta explained to me that although she was trying to help the criminal investigation, she was required to follow certain parameters so that she didn’t expose any of Emily’s personal issues. I commended her professional attitude toward my dead friend.
After a few questions, Dr. Zeta said, “I’m sure you understand, Detective, that we all make choices. Some choices turn out well, and some don’t. Some people might agree with those choices, while others don’t.” She leveled those intelligent brown eyes at me and added, “I’m sure you’ve made choices others might disagree with during your career.”
I withheld a smile as I said, “You have no idea.”
She paused as she assessed my answer. Clearly she was sharp enough to pick up on body language and read into comments like that.
She made me consider my choices during this visit in DC. For the first time I wondered if insulting a US senator was helpful. Would it lead to finding Emily Parker’s killer? Or did I just throw up another roadblock to my investigation? To be fair, I’ve resisted my entire life being told what to do. Listening to that pudgy politician as he basically ordered me to return home had made something inside me snap. I wouldn’t have left if he had been holding a gun to me.
Dr. Zeta said, “Emily was a little withdrawn. I will say she really respected you. She spoke about you several times. That’s one of the reasons I agreed to meet with you.”
“I’m not questioning your assessment of Emily, but I knew her, and I never would’ve considered her ‘withdrawn.’”
“I’m using that term in the clinical sense. She did find some solace in certain social interactions. But on a day-to-day basis she could feel overwhelmed with the number of people she had to meet and talk to.”
I thought about that and said, “Doesn’t that run counter to her social life? She seemed to go to a lot of parties and meet a lot of people.”
The psychiatrist thought about it for a moment. “Those were the kinds of social interactions she appreciated.”
“Dr. Zeta, all I really want to do is find her killer. I think her death might have had some connection with her romantic relationships. Is there anything you could tell me that might be useful? Was she having a rough time in a relationship? Did she feel threatened?”
“Emily was relatively private. She liked strong, ambitious, and motivated people. She enjoyed their company.”
“Did she talk about any of her relationships specifically?”
“Now I have to use a little more caution. I don’t want to drag anyone into your investigation who might be mourning her death. She never gave me any indication she was in danger from a relationship. She didn’t care about rumors, so she didn’t care that people gossiped that she slept around. I can tell you she didn’t. She had romantic relationships, but they were private. I really can’t name names.”
“So you couldn’t talk about Supreme Court justice Robert Steinberg?”
The psychiatrist’s startled pause told me she knew about the relationship between the justice and Emily.
I realized, talking to the doctor, that every interview I did wasn’t attacking the primary problem. I needed to go to the source. I knew exactly what my next move would be. If I was going to insult powerful people, then I’d do it to the people who might know something about Emily’s death. That did not include Senator Wellmy, no matter how much I wished he was involved.
