F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (19 page)

           
Standing in the building's
vestibule, Rob realized that he actually was looking forward to seeing Kara.
Why? He was still attracted to her, but obviously she hadn't the slightest
interest in him. In fact, she seemed to be trying to avoid him. Why should he
be looking for another dose of frustration?

           
Well, for one thing, this time she
had made the first move.

           
Don't
get your hopes up, turkey
, he told himself as he reached for the bell.

           
Kara buzzed the inner door open
immediately. She was waiting at the apartment door when he reached the second
floor.

           
"I'm glad you're here,"
she said. "Come in."

           
She looked awful. Drained. Small,
almost frail within her oversized cable knit sweater. Her features were tight,
her mouth grim, her eyes red and… haunted looking.

           
"Are you okay?" he said as
he stepped inside and shucked off his coat.

           
"Yes. Sure. Of course. I'm
fine."

           
Her assurances had all the depth of
feeling of someone being held hostage. Instinctively, he glanced around the
front room of the apartment.

           
"Anybody else here?"

           
"No. You want a drink?"

           
"Sure."

           
"Still scotch?"

           
"Uh-huh." Rob was
disproportionately pleased she remembered.

           
"Good. Because that's all she's
got."

           
"With a couple of rocks."

           
As Kara went to the kitchen counter,
Rob stepped across the room for a quick look into the bedroom—a mess, like it
had been pulled apart. How long had she been here? He followed her into the
kitchen. He noticed a half-empty glass on the counter beside the Dewar's bottle.

           
"I see you've got a head start
on me."

           
She poured some into a fresh glass
for him and then a little more into her own.

           
"I've got a couple of
laps
on you," she said as she
handed him his drink.

           
He looked at her eyes more closely.

           
"Yeah. I guess you do."

           
"But it doesn't help." She
raised her glass. "Here's to the psychiatric profession." despite the
dubious sincerity of the toast, Rob clinked his glass against hers and took a
long pull on the drink. It felt good going down. Then they settled back and
stood there in the kitchen under the fluorescent light, each leaning against
different sections of the counter that ran at a right angles along two walls.

           
A vision flashed through Rob's mind—the
two of them, married, standing here like this every night discussing the events
of the day while dinner cooked— then was gone. But it left in its wake a
bittersweet trace of a warmth that could have been.

           
He shook it off and looked at her.

           
"Don't let that Dr. Gates get
you down too much, Kara. We'll get a subpoena for Kelly's records. It may take
some time, but eventually—"

           
"He called me last night,"
she said. "Said he'd changed his mind. I went over there this morning and
he told me the whole story—Kelly's complete case history."

           
"That's a real turn-around."

           
"I almost wish he hadn't."

           
Rob saw the misery in her eyes and
realized she wasn't exaggerating.

           
"Want to talk about it?"

           
"No. Yes. I don't know. I just
think maybe you should know what was going on in Kelly's head—what Dr. Gates
says
was going on in her head—in the
months before she, uh, fell."

           
"It couldn't hurt, and it might
help."

           
"Yeah. I guess so. Let's go
inside and sit."

           
They were half way to the sofa when
the buzzer sounded from downstairs.

           
"Who in the world—?" Kara
said, and went to the speaker.

           
Someone named Ed was here. She
seemed to know who he was and buzzed him up.

           
Rob gave Ed a quick once-over when
he arrived: about five-eleven, pushing forty, brown hair, medium build,
yuppyish. His eyes darted from Kara to Rob.

           
"Oh, sorry," he said.
"If I've come at a bad time…?"

           
"No. Come on in," Kara
said with a resigned tone. "Ed, meet Rob Harris. Rob, this is Ed, an old
friend of Kelly's."

           
They shook hands and Rob noted that
Ed's palm was moist.

           
"Nice to meet you, Ed," he
said. "I didn't catch your last name."

           
"Uh, Bannion," he said.

           
Kara said, "Ed's a lawyer with
Paramount
. He's offered to help with any legal
problems connected with Kelly." She turned to Ed. "And Rob's a
detective with the New York Police. He's working on Kelly's case."

           
For an instant, Rob thought Ed's
eyes were going to bulge out of their sockets.

           
"Oh," Ed said to him.
"How interesting. Miss Wade, uh, Kara, told me you suspect foul play. Any,
uh, suspects yet?"

           
"Not yet. But we're closing in
on a couple of guys."

           
Ed's expression was tight, almost a
mask.

           
"Really? Great! I, uh, hope you
catch them soon."

           
"Only a matter of time. By the
way, how did you know Kelly?"

           
"She was his mother's nurse
when she was in the hospital," Kara said. She seemed impatient. "Ed,
you might as well come in and hear this, too."

           
"You think that's wise,
Kara?" Rob said.

           
He didn't know what Kara was going
to say, but he felt he should hear it first. Plus, Kara's words were getting
slurry and she looked a little unsteady on her feet. How many drinks had she
had?

           
"I don't know if it's wise or
not, but Ed thinks the world of Kelly and the way the papers treated the
circumstances of her death you'd have thought she was a hooker or something. I
just want to set the record straight, let him know that none of it was her
doing. You want a drink, Ed?"

           
"Yes. Uh, no. No, maybe I'd
better not."

           
Ed looked ready to jump out of his
skin. Rob wondered why.

           
"All right," Kara said.
"Let's sit down and I'll tell you all about it."

           
A
cop! Dear sweet Jesus an honest to God
New
York City
detective!

           
Ed could feel his armpits growing
steadily wetter as the perspiration poured out of him.

           
What
am I doing here with a cop, for Christ's sake?

           
He really wanted that drink Kara had
offered, but he didn't dare take it. He had to watch every word he said. No
telling what might slip out if he started drinking. And besides, he didn't want
to leave fingerprints anywhere. Kara had said the cops had fingerprints of the
guys her sister had been with before she died.

           
Jesus!
Why did I get myself involved in this?

           
He realized Kara was talking to him.
If the round table were a clock, she would have been at
noon
, Ed at six, and the detective, Harris, at three.

           
"I spoke to my sister's
psychiatrist today. I think you both ought to know what he told me."

           
Kara paused to take a sip of her
drink and Ed realized that she was about two sheets to the wind. She appeared
to be stretched to the breaking point.

           
"He told me that Kelly suffered
from something called a multiple personality disorder."

           
"No kidding," Ed said.
He'd read
Sybil
twice. He'd always
found the subject fascinating. "I've heard that kind of thing's supposed
to be very rare."

           
"Yeah, well,— Kelly had a
second personality called Ingrid. She was the one doing all the crazy things,
not Kelly."

           
Detective Harris sipped his own
drink. " 'Ingrid?' That was the name she used at the Plaza that
night."

           
Kara nodded. "Right." She
turned to Ed. "That's why I wanted you to know. I didn't want you to think
she was some sort of hypocrite playing Florence Nightingale in the daytime and
Irma La Douce at night. She had a real problem and she was fighting it. I know
she could have beaten it if she'd had more… time."

           
Her lips quivered and she bowed her
head. Ed's heart damn near broke for her. And for the dead Kelly. Apparently
she'd been a very troubled woman. Ed's stomach got queasy. He hadn't known she
was mentally ill when he was… God, he'd been humping her, he'd even
bitten
her, some poor sick girl who
didn't even know she was there.

           
He felt dirty.

           
"I understand," he said.
He desperately wanted to lighten Kara's load. "But I never could think
badly of your sister. No matter what."

           
He noticed Detective Harris staring
at him. The cop nodded at Ed, as if to say,
Thanks
.
Which was kind of strange. Was there something going on between these two?