What Looks Like Crazy (20 page)

I needed to talk to somebody, and the person I wanted to talk to was Jay. But I couldn't talk to Jay, because I was divorcing him. It wasn't fair to call him and give him mixed messages. It wasn't healthy for me to listen to his voice, because every time I heard it, my heart got sucked in.

I felt desperate. That's the only excuse I could think of for ending up at Thad's house. Fortunately his was the only car in the driveway, so I assumed he was alone. When he didn't answer the door, I walked around back and peeked over his fence. I wasn't surprised to find him in his hot tub, leaning back with a towel propped beneath his head, a frozen margarita in one hand. I opened the gate, and Thad looked up.

“Kate, what a surprise! Take off your clothes and hop in. I'm celebrating.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Like I don't know how you look naked?”

I waited. Finally he closed his eyes. I stripped down to my panties and climbed into the tub, taking care not to get my cast wet. “Oh, boy, this feels great,” I said. “What are you celebrating?”

“My little brother has moved on with his life. He doesn't need me around anymore.”

“Of course he needs you,” I said. “You're his brother. You're family. Family is important.”

“Here, have a drink,” Thad said. “Your thinking is skewed at the moment. If families were so great, there wouldn't be such a crucial need for family therapists.”

“True,” I said with a shrug. I took a sip and closed my eyes. I'd forgotten how good Thad's margaritas were. He added a little orange juice to his recipe so that it went down more smoothly. The salt along the rim tasted good on my tongue. “This is delicious.”

Thad scooted closer. “Just like old times, huh?”

“Sort of.” I offered him the glass, but he shook his head. “You look like you need it more than I do. Bad day?”

“I keep hoping my life will become sane again.”

“You take life too seriously, Kate.”

“Maybe I need a hot tub.”

“All you need is a close personal friend with a hot tub.”

“Good idea. You just saved me about five thousand dollars.”

He was silent for a moment, as though sensing that I needed the quiet, that I needed to unwind.

“Remember Cancún?” he said after a moment. “We should go back.”

Beneath the bubbling water, I felt Thad rub one hairy leg against mine.

“Just imagine, Kate,” he said, his voice lulling me. “White beaches, crystal clear water, leisurely naps beneath a ceiling fan.” He smiled. “And room service. You know how much you love room service.”

“Room service,” I said dreamily, letting my mind drift in that direction. I would not have to eat frozen dinners that tasted like cardboard. People would deliver exotic foods on trays covered with crisp, white cloths, and nice china. As I sipped my drink, I could almost smell the suntan oil.

“You are in dire need of pampering,” Thad said, refilling my glass from the pitcher. “And I'm the perfect man for the job. Losing you humbled me, Kate.”

I gave him a look.

“Okay, ‘humble' is a strong word, but it made me think,” he said. “I should have treated you better.”

“Yep.”

“But try to see it from my side. It has always been too easy for me where women are concerned. I've never had to go out of my way like I did with you. Women were just happy to be with me, you know?”

“So you're saying it wasn't really your fault that you were a two-timing jerk?”

He sighed. “I cheated
once
, Kate. And it was sort of an accident.”

“No, Thad. Backing your car into the mailbox is an accident. Stubbing your toe on the leg of a chair is an accident. Getting naked with your receptionist in your hot tub requires thought and planning.”

He took the glass and sipped before handing it back to me. “Okay, the truth is, I did you a favor,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I knew you were slipping away from me. But I also know you can't stand the thought of hurting somebody. I made it easy for you to get out.”

I stared at him, openmouthed. “Are you saying you set the whole thing up on my account? That you
intended
for me to catch you in the hot tub with another woman so that I'd have an easier time breaking up with you?”

“My actions weren't completely altruistic,” he admitted. “I wasn't about to tell my friends you'd broken it off because you were bored with me. I mean, I have a certain reputation to live up to, you know?”

“I don't believe what I'm hearing! You
used
a human being, a woman, so that I would break up with you in a way that would make you look like a stud to your buddies?”

“See, there you go making it sound like I did a bad thing.”

“Jeez, Thad!”

“My receptionist had been giving me the come-on for months. She came here that night uninvited. When it all comes down to it, I was the true victim.”

“Give me a break!”

“Well, look what you did! You married the first guy to come along. I guess you really showed me, huh?”

“You think I married Jay to punish you?”

“Well, didn't you?”

“No, Thad.” I saw the look of amazement in his eyes. “It had nothing to do with you.”

“Now, Kate—”

“I married Jay because I loved him.”

“Oh.” He leaned back in the tub and seemed to consider it. “So why are you getting divorced?”

“Because Jay's job is dangerous, and I have no desire to be a young widow.”

“You shouldn't have to be. That's why I'm even more convinced we should fly to Cancún. You and I were pretty darn good together, Kate. I've learned my lesson.”

I decided not to answer. I didn't want to burst Thad's ego bubble by telling him there was a difference between good and fantastic. I did not want to be the one to break it to him that there was more to a relationship than sharing a bed. I knew what it was like to share souls.

I jumped when I felt Thad's hand on my thigh. “Don't give me your answer now,” he said. “Let me go in and make a fresh pitcher of margaritas.”

I averted my gaze as he climbed from the tub. “I should go. I think I'm getting drunk.”

“No, you just stay put. You can always stay here if you can't drive. I'll make us a little snack.” He turned for the door, paused, then turned back with a grin and snatched up my clothes.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Just making sure you don't try to sneak off on me,” he said.

“Don't take my clothes!” I said, but it was too late. I caught sight of Thad's behind as he hurried toward the glass doors leading inside.

“Dammit!” I climbed awkwardly from the hot tub, with the full use of only one hand, and started for the door—then realized I would be asking for big trouble. I knew Thad's game only too well. Also, I was feeling the effects of the margarita. God only knew how much tequila was coursing through my bloodstream. The only thing I
did
know was that I had to get out of there fast. I spied a large towel and wrapped it around me sarong-style. Then I grabbed my purse and high heels and ran for my car.

I grabbed the
door handle, then paused. I had enough of a buzz going that I didn't trust myself to drive. Fortunately I had my cell phone and could call Mona. I whipped it out, started to dial, then reconsidered.

Did I really want Mona to know that I had been desperate enough to climb in Thad's hot tub? Wasn't it bad enough that she knew I'd had a semicrush on a gay guy? I heard Thad calling me, and I jumped behind his hedges and crouched on the ground. Luckily it was dark, and Thad would probably never think to look for me in his bushes. It bothered me that this was the second time in two weeks I'd found myself in such a predicament. It was times like these that made me question whether I was really capable of treating people for psychological disorders.

Finally Thad grew quiet. I checked Information for the number of a local cab company and dialed. The cab arrived twenty minutes later. I raced across Thad's front yard and opened the back door to the cab. “I'm sort of in a hurry,” I said, then rattled off my address. The driver glanced back at me. I recognized Tony.

He frowned. “Don't I know you?”

“I almost never take cabs.”

“The lady in the black dress,” he said, as though a lightbulb had suddenly flashed on in his head. “Nice towel. What happened to your wrist?”

“I fell. Like I said, I'm in a hurry.”

He drove on. “When did you start working this neighborhood?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said.

“I'm filling in for a guy who's getting married. Maybe it's time you think about settling down. This is no kind of life for a pretty girl like yourself.”

“I'm not a hooker, okay? I'm just a person who makes dumb choices. Could you drive a little faster?”

I was thankful it was dark when I arrived home. “Would you cut your headlights, please,” I asked Tony as I counted out my money. If Bitsy saw me arrive home in a towel, she would think I was a sinner of the worst kind and renege on giving me her coffee cake recipe. “Could you pick me up in the morning? I need to go back and get my car. Eight a.m.?”

He nodded. “You should let me introduce you to my nephew, Tony. He's looking for a wife.”

“I'm not interested in meeting anyone right now, but thanks. I'll see you tomorrow morning, eight sharp.” I climbed from the cab and skulked toward my house. Mike greeted me as I stepped inside. The good thing about Mike is that I can walk in wearing a towel, and I don't have to try to explain it.

The phone rang as I let her out. I saw Thad's name on my caller ID and ignored it. He didn't leave a message. Jay had called. I played his message back.

“Saw you on the six o'clock news,” he said. “All the guys in the station said you looked hot.”

I grabbed a shower, slathered myself with my Donna Karan lotion, and sprayed the perfume on my neck. I reached for my favorite sleep shirt, then remembered the Jones New York pajamas that Mona had surprised me with some months back. Because the set was so exquisite, I had hung it in my closet and seldom wore it for fear of spilling Ben & Jerry's chocolate ice cream on it. The material felt so good on my skin that I promised myself to wear this set more often. It was crazy to keep it in my closet when it gave me such a luxurious feeling.

I slipped between my sheets, turned off my lamp, and put the day behind me, where it belonged. I visualized a sandy white beach, the sun warming my body, seagulls flying overhead, and a vast ocean. I smelled the briny air, heard waves crashing, and at last I felt my body relax.

Thad was right; I
did
need pampering. But I didn't have to go all the way to Cancún to get it.

 

My doorbell rang
the next morning at precisely eight a.m. Tony stood on the other side of the door; next to him was a younger man who had Tony's dark looks but was about fifty pounds overweight.

“This is the nephew I was telling you about,” Tony said. “His name is Tony, too. Half the people in our family are named Tony.”

“Very nice to meet you,” I said, shaking the nephew's hand. I looked at the older Tony. “I'm in a huge hurry.”

“That's the problem with you young people,” he said. “You're always in a big rush. One day the whole lot of you will be old, and you'll wonder where the time went.”

“You're right,” I said, and saw the surprised look on his face. “Thank you for reminding me.”

Tony-the-nephew tried to strike up a conversation with me before we pulled from my driveway. In an attempt to discourage him, I pulled my cell phone from my purse and called my mother.

“What's wrong?” she asked quickly.

“Nothing,” I said. “I thought I'd check in, see how you're doing.”

“Why?”

“I didn't realize I needed a reason.”

The younger Tony shrugged and turned around in his seat.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your aunt Lou is still upset with you.”

I knew my mother was lying. She loved giving bad news. “I'm sorry to hear it,” I said, “but it doesn't change the fact that I can't write prescriptions for her.”

“Uncle Bump is hurt, seeing as how he tried so hard to be a father figure to you.”

I said nothing.

“Lucien isn't very happy either,” she said. “It's sad that you don't have a relationship with your only cousin.”

“Have you
looked
at Lucien lately?” I asked. “The guy is scary. He's scarier than some of my patients.”

“Your aunt Lou raised him. What can you expect?”

She had a point. But at least Lucien had not been forced to get up before dawn every Saturday and comb the streets of Buckhead in a beat-up pickup truck before the garbagemen arrived, just to see what the wealthy were tossing out.

“I've got to go, Mom,” I said, determined not to let her ruin my day. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. Fortunately the men in front seemed to get the message. They were quiet the rest of the way. I was relieved to find Thad's car gone when we pulled into his driveway. I paid the fare. As I was getting out of the cab, the younger Tony looked at me.

“You want to give me your phone number so I can call you?” he asked.

I gave him my best smile. “This isn't a good time for me, but thanks for asking.” I hurried to my car.

I made it to my office in record time and was stunned to find Harold Fry in my reception room. “Oh, thank goodness you're okay!” I said. But my relief was short-lived. I glanced at Mona, who was pacing the room, eyes blazing like something you might see in a scary demonic movie.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“You will
not
believe what Agent Fry has discovered!” she said. “Dr. Manning, the chiropractor, is a fraud!”

“You mean he's not really a chiropractor?”

“Right,” Harold said. “Even worse, he preys on women who are well-off and vulnerable. He insists on taking a ton of X-rays, and he has the patients come in several times a week, which they do because—”

“Because he's a creep,” Mona cut in. “He pretends to be attracted to them so they can't wait for their next appointment.”

Harold nodded. “
And
, because he doesn't know what he's doing, he usually ends up causing more damage.”

“Which explains why I've been in so much pain,” Mona said. “And it gets worse. He's married with three kids!”

“How do you know all this?” I asked Harold.

“Last time he was here, I asked him to look into it,” Mona said. “I didn't tell you because I thought you'd get mad.”

“The name ‘Dan Manning' is an alias,” Harold said. “He was forced to close his Virginia office because patients began complaining. He packed up in the middle of the night and took off.”

“Good thing I asked Agent Fry to check him out, huh?” Mona said. “I've already contacted my attorney.”

I was almost certain the American Psychological Association could put my license through a shredder over something like this. I tried to think what other skills I had to fall back on so that I wouldn't end up homeless. Nothing came to mind. I would probably end up collecting junk with my mother and aunt. As a junior member of their corporation, I would be the one sent down into the Dumpsters.

“Do me a favor,” I said to Mona. “Kevin Bosley is due in shortly—”

“We're not going to have to go back up on the roof, are we?” she asked.

I ignored the remark. “Would you try to reach him and see if he can reschedule for later today?”

“Sure.” She began searching through her Rolodex.

“Harold, I'd like to see you in my office,” I told him. He followed me inside, and I closed the door. I motioned to the sofa. “You've been very busy,” I said, taking a seat on my chair.

“Yeah. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of tired and feeling out of sorts.”

He looked tired. The opposite of a manic high is often depression. It wouldn't be long before Harold crashed. My job was to get him through it. “Are you taking your medication?” I already knew the answer.

“I can't take medication when I'm on a job,” he said. “It clouds my judgment.”

“Well, it sounds like you've solved the case, so this might be a good time to get back on track.” I would wait until Harold was stable before I lowered the boom on him, but I was not going to continue seeing him until we came to an understanding about his meds. “What do you think about calling your sister to come stay with you for a while?” I asked.

“I'll make a deal,” Harold said. “I'll call my sister and get back on my medication, but you have to promise not to blow my cover where Mona is concerned.”

“Blow your cover?” I asked.

“Meaning I don't want her to know that I'm just a retired tax accountant. Let her keep thinking I'm CIA.” He smiled. “I think it turns her on.”

 

I had just
finished up with Harold when Mona peeked in my door. “Alice Smithers is on line two. She's crying. Do you think she just realized what bad taste she has?”

I picked up the phone. “What's wrong, Alice?” I asked quickly.

“Liz's boyfriend is in my condo,” she whispered. “I opened the door to leave for work, and he shoved me back inside. He was really drunk.”

“Did he hurt you?”

More tears. “He beat me up pretty bad. I grabbed my cell phone and locked myself in the bathroom. He seems to have passed out on the sofa, but I'm afraid he'll wake up if I try to get past him to the front door.”

“You've called the police, right?”

“He'll kill me if I report him,” she hissed.

“He'll kill you if you don't!” I said, noting that I had Mona's undivided attention.

“I'm so scared, Kate. I'm so scared.”

I blinked several times at the change in her voice. She suddenly sounded childlike.

“Give me your address,” I said, not wanting to take the time to look it up. When she didn't respond, I became insistent. “Alice, talk to me!”

“I can't remember it.”

“You don't remember your address?” I wondered whether Alice had a head injury. I was vaguely aware of Mona racing from my office. Suddenly there was a crashing sound from the other end of the line, followed by a booming male voice. Alice cried out.

I jumped to my feet. “Alice, get out of the apartment!” I shouted. Her phone went dead. “Dammit!” I cried.

“I've got her address, and I'm dialing nine-one-one now,” Mona called out from the next room.

 

It was all
I could do to focus on Kevin Bosley's words as I waited for word on Alice. This was only my second session with Kevin after his attempt to hurl himself off the roof, so I wanted it to go well.

A complete physical by his family doctor confirmed that he was in excellent physical condition; and since Kevin had no history of depression, nor was his family tree saddled with it, I felt it was situational. I was not going to delve too deeply into his psyche until I was certain he was stable.

“How's the depression?” I asked.

“Well, I don't feel like jumping off rooftops.”

“That's a good sign,” I said, giving him a thumbs-up. “How are you sleeping?”

“Better. I decided to hold off interviewing for a new job until I get through this, so that lowered my stress level.”

“That is an excellent idea,” I said, delighted he'd thought of it himself. “Are you getting out of the house?” Depressed people tend to isolate, which is the worst thing they can do.