patient, he believed it would be best to have her rested when he spoke with her, trying to get to the root of her problem. But she was Dr. A. A. Payne’s patient, not his. And he was a resident, and Dr. Payne was not only an adjunct professor of psychiatry, but held in the highest possible regard by the chief of Psychiatric Services, Aaron Stein, M.D., former president of the American Psychiatric Association.
Despite that, and his own genuine respect for her, Dr. Martinez felt that Dr. Payne was wrong when she told him that in cases like this the best sedation was the least sedation, and it was her call.
“Okay,” the caller said. “She was stripped naked and orally raped by a policeman under circumstances that were themselves traumatic. You got that?”
“No. You were going too fast for me,” Dr. Martinez said as he gestured to Nurse Dubinsky that he wanted to write something.
She pushed an aluminum clipboard to him, and when she saw that he was having trouble finding his own pen or pencil, handed him her own ballpoint.
“Miss Cynthia Longwood was stripped naked and orally raped,” the caller began, very slowly, making it clear to Dr. Martinez that he was reciting—probably reading—what he was saying, “by a policeman under circumstances that were themselves traumatic. You got it all now, Doc?”
And what he had recited—probably read—didn’t sound as if it had been written by the man on the telephone.
“I’ve got it now, thank you,” Dr. Martinez said.
“Read it back to me.”
“Miss Cynthia Longwood was stripped naked and orally raped by a policeman under circumstances that were themselves traumatic,” Dr. Martinez recited.
Nurse Dubinsky’s eyebrows rose, and she shook her head.
“That’s it. You make sure Dr. Payne gets that.”
“Of course. Just as soon as she comes in. And who should I say called?”
The caller laughed. “Nice try! Fuck you, Doc.”
There was a click and the line went dead.
Dr. Martinez and Nurse Dubinsky looked at each other.
“Interesting,” Dr. Martinez thought aloud.
“You believe that?”
“I don’t believe the man who called wrote the message,” Dr. Martinez said. “I think he was reading it.”
“Yeah,” Nurse Dubinsky agreed. “He didn’t sound as if he would say things like ‘orally raped’ or ‘traumatic circumstances.’ ”
Dr. Martinez looked at his watch and wrote down the time.
“If I happen to be asleep—”
“You mean, ‘are not at the moment available,’ ” Nurse Dubinsky interrupted him.
“Thank you, but no thank you,” Dr. Martinez said. “What is it you say up here about ‘calling a shovel’?”
“A spade a spade,” she corrected him. “It’s from playing cards.”
“If Dr. Payne should come here in the morning, and I am sleeping, please wake me. I want to talk to her about this. I think we both should be available to her.”
“Of course,” Nurse Dubinsky said.
“This is very interesting,” Dr. Martinez said. “I wonder who that man was? Not the policeman, certainly.”
“That poor girl,” Nurse Dubinsky said.
When Matt woke up, the first thing he saw was Susan’s brassiere, which he had placed with the other contents of his trousers and jacket pockets on the bedside table.
He sat up in bed and reached for it, feeling more than a little chagrined. Taking it did not seem nearly so much a fine idea in the light of day as it had the night before.
“Jesus,” he said aloud.
He examined the torn buttonhole on the strap.
Was I “mad with passion”? Or did that just happen, because we were like two squirming snakes on the seat of the Porsche?
He raised it to his nose and sniffed it. There was a very faint odor of Susan—or her perfume? Same thing?—on it.
Do I really love her? Or do I have a fatal case of penis erectus?
How could I possibly love her? Christ, I hardly know her. And what we’ve done most of the time is either fight or lie to each other.
But if I don’t love her, where did this Susie-and-me-against-the-whole-goddamned-world feeling come from?
And does she love me? Or is this because she knows I’m onto her and fucking the cop, under the circumstances, seems a more logical thing to do than docilely putting out your wrists to have them cuffed?
And where is Susie now? Waking up and getting ready to go to work, to wait for my call, or already on an airplane headed for San José, Costa Rica, having stopped only long enough to call Chenowith from a pay phone in the airport to tell him the cops are onto him for his bank jobs?