73
Aligned Design
Ch 12
"So, what do you think?" Deakins asked.
Huang looked at Stephens and nodded. She took a deep breath and began, "Well, Dr. Huang and I ran into Detective Goren in the hallway on the way in. He figured out why we were here and I watched his affect. He was rational, calm. Listening specifically to what he was saying – the words he used – and watching his body language, however, makes me think he's working extremely hard to stay in control.
"Maintaining that level of conscious control is exhausting. One way of alleviating the draining nature of that effort is to shut down. The brain will protect its owner by removing the unpleasantness of a situation or event by numbing the interactions. In other words, if Detective Goren doesn't want to lose his cool in a situation or when interacting with a certain individual, his brain will anesthetize his emotions in that situation or with that person. He'll develop what we call 'flat affect'. He'll neither feel nor show an emotional response – good or bad." She looked at Huang, "What do you think?"
Huang thought a minute and then said, "I agree completely. Goren is repressing any natural, spontaneous emotional response."
"How does that affect him? Will he still be able to do his work?" Deakins asked.
"His cognition is in no way affected. He'll remain as smart and deductive as ever. His emotions, however, are beginning to shut down. He'll feel no pleasure, joy, anger. He'll be a machine, feeling nothing," Stephens answered.
"Jesus." Deakins looked at the floor. "Can it be stopped?"
"Yes, yes. I think he's only just begun to shut down. The fact that he and Detective Sledge were laughing out there, indicates that he still has some appropriate affect. However, he needs to get into counseling right away. He may need medication as well." Stephens looked at Huang.
"I would guarantee he needs meds of some sort. Do you think he'd be amenable to that idea, Jim?"
"Goren's smart. He knows how medication has helped his mother. I think he'd agree without hesitation."
"Good.
"I'm not sure, but I think he's aware of his problems with his escalating temper. That will be an explicit conversation point once his counseling resumes. We need to know to what degree he's self-aware." Dr. Stephens looked to Dr. Huang and said, "Perhaps you and I can take a few minutes to generate a list of a discussion points. I don't want to miss anything."
Huang agreed and said to Deakins, "Would you excuse us, Jim. We can't discuss the details of Goren's therapy with you beyond what we've already done. You understand."
Deakins rose and said, "Of course, of course. I'm glad we did this. I need him to be well. Dr. Stephens, it was a pleasure meeting you. George thanks for everything." Deakins shook hands with each of them, turned and closed the door behind him.
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Bobby and Sledge ate at a sandwich place down the block. They walked in silence, found a table, ordered and sat quietly for a few minutes.
"So, how're you doing, really?" Sledge asked.
Bobby looked down at the table. "I don't know. Ok, I guess." He looked out at the other tables to the right. "Actually, everything pretty much sucks." He turned and looked at Sledge.
Sledge had a flash of fear that Bobby was going to go off on him. He didn't say anything; he waited. When Bobby looked away without attacking, Sledge said, "Why do you think that is?"
Bobby took a deep breath and said, "Eames looks at me like I'm a psychopath. She's afraid of me. I can't control my temper anymore and I don't know why. It scares me. I go nuts and then look at what I've done and I don't remember having done it."
"Man that sounds like something you should tell your shrink."
"I suppose I will."
Their food arrived and they dug in. They ate in comfortable silence. Then Bobby said, "It's funny, you and me being here, having lunch."
Sledge looked up and smiled. "Yeah, who'd of thought that would ever happen?"
They ate in thoughtful silence.
"You know how wrong you were, back then," Bobby said with a half smile.
Sledge swallowed and wiped his mouth, "Oh, come on, Goren. I was right and well within my bounds to do what I did," Sledge replied.
"No, you were wrong to do it. It was dirty, what you did and the way you did it."
"I did no such thing. If she hadn't been looking for someone else, we'd not be having this conversation. Besides, I saved you all the heartache of having to put up with her carousing. I saved you from a broken heart. Hell, I did you a favor," Sledge offered.
Bobby chewed, thought, swallowed and then said, "Yeah, I guess I can see that now. She was pretty free with herself. Good, but way too easy." Bobby thought a minute. "You know what, Sledge, I gave her to you," he said with a smile.
"If you gave her to me, Goren, then why the hell were you so pissed all this time? Huh?"
Bobby smiled and said, "Because you are easy to be pissed at."
Sledge shook his head.
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"Will you continue as his therapist?" Huang asked Stephens.
She looked down at the tabletop, hesitated and then looked up and said, "I don't know. Obviously, I missed all that he wasn't telling me. How could I not know he was in a serious relationship? I accepted what he told me without pursuing confirmation. I wonder what else there is." Stephens looked away.
"Alice, you have to realize what kind of person Goren is. He is not typical in any sense of the word. He would have withheld from anyone. You have done nothing wrong; you missed what anyone else would have missed. Goren is sly; he chose not to reveal. He has a convincing nature. He knows psychology like no other layman. Don't beat yourself up over this." Huang watched the woman consider this.
He continued, "I wish we would have done this at the outset of his counseling. It's like Goren said when we arrived, 'it would have been smart to do this before he went nuts.' I imagine he expected this to happen at the beginning of his sessions. He was probably surprised it didn't."
"I understand everything you're saying, George. All of that is an explanation, but it is not an excuse. I needed to be alert. I failed to pursue. That's one of the first tenets of therapy – 'pursue to confirm and expand.' I have to be honest; my faith in my ability has been shaken."
Huang reached over and put his hand on hers. "Let's work up a list of discussion points. I suggest you begin his treatment and see how it goes. You now have tremendous insight into the man; it would be a shame to waste it."
Stephens smiled slightly and turned a page in her notebook. "You're right. Let's make that list."
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"You spend your whole day, riding around this city in this truck taking boxes to people? Jesus. What a way to make a living." Pangborn was getting bored. They'd driven around for an hour and had made three stops. "How many more do you have to do?"
"All the rest. I don't stop until the truck is empty. I may not finish until close to six tonight. Are you going to ride around with me all day? Don't you have something to do, somewhere to be?" Navicky was hoping to get rid of the thug.
Pangborn settled back in the passenger seat as best as he could. He crossed his arms. "Nope, I've got nothing to do but get those crates." They rode in silence for a while. Then Pangborn asked, "Where did you put those paintings? Why don't we head on over that way, wherever it is and we just do this now? Ya think? I think that's a good idea. Let's get going."
Navicky thought about just doing it. Just go and give them over, get his money and be done. Then, what about Jenese, what do I tell him?
"I need to finish these deliveries. I'll get them after I'm done with work. Is there somewhere I can drop you off until later? Or, are you going to waste a whole day riding around with me?"
"Oh, I'm sticking close to you, my man. Like I said, I got nothing to do but get those canvases."
Shit, thought Navicky.
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"Thank you," Gleason said with a smile as she slid the envelope of American dollars into her leather bag and zipped it shut. Boy, the exchange rate is really poor, she thought. I could use my credit card now. I could, since I've spoken with Bobby. He won't be looking for me. I'm not hiding. I think I'll use my card rather than lose on the exchange. That's what I'll do. I should have thought of that before I exchanged. I'm just not thinking. What's wrong with me?
She walked out of the bank and headed back to the hotel. She walked slowly, enjoying the warm sun and cool air. It felt good to get out and walk. She used to walk all the time at home. She missed it. It was hard to walk in New York – so many people. Not like here, it's nice here.
What am I going to do? Bobby will never, ever leave New York. I wouldn't ask him. I could commute. We could alternate weekends. That might be ok. Expensive, but ok. What is he going to say?
Gleason put it out of her mind. The day was too nice to fret.
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Bobby sat at his desk thinking. She's in Chicago. She can't come home until Friday night. Why Chicago? Why Friday? Why do people go to another city and have a time constraint? Meetings, conferences, appointments. She's not speaking there, she didn't mention any meetings. Appointments . . . like an interview.
He entered the key words, 'ancient study programs' and hit enter. A relatively short list of results came up. The first two items listed were Brookbine University, New York and Northwestern University, Chicago. She's interviewing at Northwestern. She's in Evanston.
He didn't know what to make of this information. He wasn't angry, or even worried. He actually felt nothing. Oh, this feels good not to feel anything, he said to himself. What he did feel was curious. Why is she interviewing there? She has a job here in New York. Why would she leave; unless she really is leaving me. Bobby began to tease out the threads of what this meant. She is leaving me. She's moving to Chicago. She is leaving me. She is leaving.
It was a little hard to draw a breath.
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"Have you checked out the ceramicist in Baltimore?" Jenese said into the phone. He was sitting in his car outside the gallery.
"I'm telling you to check him out. He does some nice stuff. He has shows in two galleries. One of his pieces went for five hundred thousand last month in Washington. Get on a plane and see what he's got. . . . I don't care. This gig is ending tonight. We need to have something else to do. . . . I know New York is closer to Baltimore than St. Louis is. I'm working. I have to get the canvases and then get out. Just go and get us a place to stay. Christ, all of this should already be in place. What the hell have you been doing? . . . I told you I--don't--care. . . . Just do it, goddamn it! I'm going to start driving tonight after I get the paintings. You better have a place for us when I get there."
Jenese flipped shut the phone and sat for a minute, calming himself. I am surrounded by a bunch of fucking idiots. Now this one.
He stepped out of his car and walked up the block to Canvettelli's gallery.
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Eames returned from lunch and sat across from her partner. He was doing something on the computer. He didn't even look up.
"Did you and Sledge have a good lunch?" she ventured.
He either ignored her or didn't hear her. She waited and then picked up the phone. She spoke with the insurance company representative and he agreed to come in at nine tomorrow morning to discuss the details of pay out in light of the artist's death.
Next, Eames called Canvettelli to see if he had located the broker information. He'd said he'd call her today with it. Yeah, right.
"Hello, may I speak with Mr. Canvettelli? Detective Eames. He said he'd have some information for me today. . . . Yes, thank you."
Bobby finally looked up. Then he went straight back to whatever he was doing.
The sales associate of indeterminate gender knocked softly on the closed office door. "Mr. C? That woman detective from yesterday is on the phone. What should I tell her?"
Jesus Christ! Can you believe it? Jenese pulled his good-bar from Canvettelli's mouth and began to put himself back together. Canvettelli, looked stricken and whined, "No, let me. I want to finish you." Then louder, "Pat, tell her I'll call her back in five minutes."
Jenese put his palm on the top of the younger man's head. "No, take the call. Tell her what she wants and be rid of her. Go on. I'm not going anywhere. Go."
"Pat, wait. Tell her I'll be right there."
"Get up," Jenese helped Canvettelli to his feet. "What does she want? Do you know?"
"Oh, I don't remember. Come with me. Tell me what to say. I don't know anything. Why don't you talk with her?"
"Go get this done. Then come back so I can come." Jenese kissed him, wiped the other man's mouth and rubbed himself through his pants.
Canvettelli, opened the office door and pranced to the phone. "Hello, detective," he said with distain. "What can I do for you? I've told you everything I know."
"Mr. Canvettelli, I'm glad I caught you. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. You said you would call today with the contact information for the broker in St. Louis. I thought I'd save you the trouble. Do you have it for me?"
Canvettelli had completely forgotten he'd told her he'd call with the information. Shit! He spun and looked back at the closed office door. He needed Jenese to tell him what to say. I don't know what to tell her. Oh, Jenny, come here, come here.
"Mr. Canvettelli? Are you there? Mr. Canvettelli? How about if I come on down to the gallery. Perhaps that would be better. Mr. Canvettelli?"
"No! No, you don't need to come down here. I, I have the information in my car. Let me call you back in five minutes. I'll just run out to the car and get it. Ok? Thanks." He hung up.
Eames looked at the receiver. He doesn't know anything, she thought. Someone else is behind him. Someone else is pulling the strings. Eames debated about just heading down there. She wished she could talk with Bobby about it. He'd know what to do. Bobby was immersed in something and she was afraid to interrupt him.