A Final Session

Chapter Seven

Jim let go of Hanks harness as soon as he stepped out of the lift doors. He loved the squad room almost as much as he loved the apartment. That feeling of freedom, the confidence of knowing where things were, was like having a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card that no one else knew you had. For a few short moments he was liberated from everything that tied him to the spot, Hank, the hated cane, Karen's' arm. True, if he went too far he'd be out of the range of his knowledge and have to rely on something or someone again but for those first few moments, out of the lift doors and to his desk, it was almost like flying.

"Morning Jim." Toms voice floated over from the area of his desk.

"Hey Tom. Karen in?"

"Getting coffee. You want some?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Jim opened his briefcase and slid out his laptop. Opening it up he plugged in his earpiece and felt for the back of his chair.

"Don't get comfortable. Boss wants us in his office as soon as Marty gets here." Karen said setting her mug on her desk a little louder than intended making Jim turn away from her voice and towards the sound of the mug.

"Problem?" He asked raising his eyebrows.

"No he just wants to go over the case. On account of us getting nowhere – still!"

"It'll break Karen. They usually do."

"Some don't. They never close and you have this black mark on your record forever." She huffed.

"Isn't this Marty's case?" Jim quipped.

"You have a mean side Jimmy Dunbar. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"They used to." He laughed.

"Marty's here." Karen supplied. "We'd better go face the music."

Five minutes later the four detectives filed into Lieutenant Fisks office.

"Where are we at?" He demanded, "Cause I got the Chief of D's on my back already this morning and it isn't even 10am yet."

Leaning back against the closed door Marty began filling the boss in.

"We got three homicides. Two fresh, one nearly two years old. All three victims are male, mid thirties to early forties. All married, no kids. Decent jobs, no debts, no significant enemies. All killed in their homes but nothing stolen. Partners drugged to keep them outta' the way but none of them assaulted or harmed at all. The injuries on two of the victims are very similar. Lots of facial bruising. Lots of small cuts to arms, legs and or trunk. Killed by a single deep cut to each wrist. The DOA from two years ago had the facial bruising but none of the cuts. He was killed by a couple hundred sleeping tablets it looks like he was made to swallow. ME report suggests that the assaults started hours before the fatal injuries were inflicted. The way the spouses were drugged, the tying of the victims and the identical ring mark bruising to the faces tie them all together. That and the weird breakfast thing this nut is doing for the wives. All we're short on is any link and suspects." He groused.

"And what do we think this guys motive is?" Fisk cut in.

"He's a whacko." Marty sighed.

Jim cleared his throat as he leaned forwards onto the back of the chair Karen had sat in.

"He has no motive that's apparent apart from he obviously does not like the husbands but cares about the wives. He drugs them so they don't interrupt. He ties the husbands up and has every opportunity to assault the women but doesn't. He is thoughtful toward them in his mind because he makes coffee for them, leaves flowers, nice stuff."

"Killing their husbands is nice?" Karen interrupted.

"Obviously to this guy, yeah, it is. I think he must have some real beef with these guys 'cause he takes his time. The small cuts on the last two DOA's were malicious. Like he's angry with them or something. He tortures them and then when he's ready he kills them."

"What about the Rosenberg guy? He wasn't cut and apart from the bruising to the face our perp hadn't laid into him as bad?" Tom said.

"Yeah. It's almost as if he went easier on this guy. Cut wrists gotta hurt and contrary to what you'd think they're not always quick. The sleeping tablets though, apart from the initial getting them down, are quite painless. You'd slip into a deep sleep and never know the rest." Karen theorised.

"So he's got a bigger beef with vics two and three?" Fisk stated.

"Looks like it. We just need to find out what the beef is." Jim said. "We've got Estelle Goldberg wife of victim number one coming in soon. Karen and I are gonna see if she can give us anything."

"And we're talking to the third vics wife, Anna Flannery. We got a call from one of the neighbours we canvassed saying she used to hear a lot of arguing a while back." Marty stated.

"OK keep me posted." Fisk huffed. "Oh and the air cons down again. You probably noticed, so it'll be a hot one."


All four of them groaned collectively as they made to leave the small office. Once seated back at his desk Jim snapped his fingers in Hanks direction. When he didn't feel his dogs' head resting on his knee Jim tapped his thigh. After a moment Hanks nose nudged Jims hand. He leaned forwards until his forehead brushed Hanks ears.

"Hey, what's up? Too hot?" Jim asked gently as he scruffed the soft fur on Hanks neck. Hank whined a little and lay back down.

"Karen?"

"Right here."

"Does Hank look OK to you?"

"How do I tell? He looks like Hank. Hot, but like Hank." She replied.

It hadn't occurred to Jim that he would need to tell Karen how Hank usually was. He knew how his dog usually felt to him but that was it and it was virtually impossible to translate that into words. He had to try though.

"I think he seems a little off. His nose feels warm to me and he's a little slower than usual. Normally I need a pretty firm grip on his harness, he's a big dog, but today he just doesn't feel as strong."

Karen wheeled her chair over to where Hank lay and bent down to him.

"His eyes are a little dull. Usually they're real.. um ..glittery, and he hasn't drunk any of his water yet. He's usually had a fair bit by now hasn't he?"

"Yeah. I'll see how he goes. He may need a trip to the vet."

Hank whined when he heard the word. Karen laughed, "I don't think he liked you saying that."

"He doesn't. He acts like a baby when we have to take him." Jim smiled and shook his head a little. Behind the smile though Jim was worried. He felt so strongly about Hank that anytime he thought the smallest thing was wrong he got a knot of anxiety building in his stomach.

"Hey. I'll keep an eye on him too," Karen offered, "And if we need to go to the vet we'll go. He'll be fine."

Jim nodded, feeling a little put out that Karen had just read him so easily. He must be slipping in his ability to hide his feelings he thought.

Suddenly they were interrupted by a voice. "I'm looking for Detective Bettancourt? I'm Estelle Goldberg."


They settled into interview room one with Jim leaned against the windowsill and Karen sat in a chair opposite Estelle.

"Congratulations." Karen said, a little awkwardly. It seemed odd to be saying those words to someone whom they wanted to talk to about their murdered husband.

"Thanks." Estelle said happily.

"Karen?" Jim seldom felt confused during interviews but he sure did now.

"Oh sorry Jim, Ms Goldberg is pregnant."

"Don't tell me I still just look fat!" Estelle burst, looking at Jim in amazement. "I thought I was past that stage." She sounded despondent.

"I'm sure you are Ms Goldberg and I'm sure you're blooming but I can't see you." Jim stated evenly.

Estelle looked at Karen a confused expression on her face.

"My partner is blind Estelle." Karen said.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't realize."

"Shall we get on with what were here to talk about?" Jim asked. "We know this is probably something you don't want to go over again but we need to talk to you about your husband."

"Have you got a suspect?" Estelle demanded sharply.

"No we don't but we have had some leads pop up and wanted to compare what we have with what happened two years ago." Karen said. "Tell us about your relationship with your husband. As much detail as you feel you can go into would be good."

Estelle took a deep breath and began. "Michael and I met at school. Our families knew each other." She smiled a little, "Tight knit Jewish community, everyone knows each other! Our story isn't exciting or complicated. We met, we fell in love and even though we were both sixteen we knew that we were gonna stay together, get married, you know, the usual stuff. I went to college to study accounting and Michael worked with his father in their jewellery store. Once I finished college we got married. Michaels father renovated the apartment above the store for a wedding present and we lived there. When Michael's dad died he inherited the store and carried on running it. I worked freelance and did the stores books as well as my other clients accounts."

"Did Michael gamble at all Estelle?" Karen asked carefully.

"No! He didn't do anything like that. He never bet, didn't drink, never fooled around. We were good together."

"There was never any trouble between you? Something you may have confided in someone else about? Jim ventured.

"Who've you been talking to?" Estelle snapped.

"Who should we be talking to Estelle?" Karen asked quietly.

"Nobody. Look Michael and I did have a rocky patch and our families became involved. They made it worse than it was but we got through it." Estelle sighed, shaking her head.

"What caused the trouble Estelle?" Karen pressed.

"We wanted children and it didn't happen. We did all the usual stuff at first. You know, healthier diet, no drinking but still nothing happened. My mom damn near drove us crazy. 'Be patient Estelle', 'It takes time Estelle', the usual bull. Anyway we were patient but it never worked so we had fertility tests and it came back that Michael was infertile. That was it. No kids for us. We were devastated of course but in a way my dad took it worse. I'm an only child and now he wasn't gonna get any grand kids. He was a good man Detective Bettancourt but he was upset for himself and for me. Family is everything to us. He would never have said it but I knew he wanted me to leave Michael. Michael knew what he was thinking and it hurt him but not because he was offended but because he felt the same. Like I should leave him and find a real man – his words, not mine!"

Jim blinked behind his dark glasses.

Estelle glanced up towards Karen as she continued. "It didn't finish us though. We got through it. I persuaded Michael to go to a therapist with me and we worked through it. It was a hard time for us but we fought back and won. That's why it's so unfair, what happened. It's just so unfair." Tears began to trickle down Estelle Goldberg's cheeks as she struggled defiantly to keep her feelings at bay.

"We sorry to have brought all this back up for you Estelle." Jim said gently as he reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. Passing it to her he asked, "When is your baby due?"

She smiled a little, "Three months. Michael's probably laughing at me somewhere. I'm not with anyone right now. I did have a kind of casual thing with a guy. He was nice but not the settling down type. I had my settling down guy and I don't believe you get that twice. Anyway, I thought I'd just have a good time with him but I didn't really think about contraception. Michael and I never had to worry." She shrugged. "I'm happy though," She smiled, " It's all I want right now."


Karen and Jim were getting coffee in the locker room when Marty and Tom walked in.

"How'd you go with Mrs Flannery?" Karen asked as she absently sucked on the stirrer she'd been swishing around her coffee cup.

"Nothing much." Tom answered, "She's calmed down a lot but it was still hard to get much sense out of her. Like our other vics according to his wife he had no enemies, just a regular guy. He'd had a bit of an alcohol problem years back which had threatened to rear its head again a month or so ago, which is what the arguing was about, but they nipped it in the bud and all was well."

"Our perp left her champagne right?" Said Jim, his interest peaking. "Like he wanted her to be able to enjoy what her husband couldn't? He might have known the victim, knew he had a drink problem."

"Right." Marty snapped, "That doesn't exactly give us a narrow band of suspects. The wife says his whole family knew of the problem, he went to AA and was very open about his 'illness'."

"What about crossing the GA group Robert Robson went to with Jeff Flannery's AA group?" Karen suggested. "It could throw up someone who was involved with both."

"Could do," Jim cut in, "But how does that tie Michael Goldberg in? He had no issues with alcohol or betting."

They were all quiet for a moment.

"It's all we got, might as well give it a try." Marty sighed.

As Karen and Tom left the locker room Jim heard Marty walk over to the coffee maker and heft the heavy glass carafe off the stand.

"Marty, do you have a pen and paper on you?" He asked.

"Yeah." Marty answered, a little puzzled.

Jim ran his palms over the counter top next to the coffee maker. "Could you set them down here? I want to give you a name and a number of someone I know who works in the Education Authority. She specialises in working with kids with dyslexia but she knows the system and has a lot of contacts when it comes to children with learning difficulties. You don't have to contact her I just thought if you needed to, you know.."

"Thanks Dunbar." Marty said, "Thanks. You could just tell me the number and I'll write it," He offered as he slapped his note pad and pen on the counter top loud enough for Jim to locate it.

Jim shook his head. "There are some numbers I can only remember as I'm writing them down. I've always been the same, you know like some people remember numbers in sets of three first and then sets of four and if they don't say them like that they get all mixed up?"

"Yeah!" Marty agreed. Watching as Jim felt for the edges of the page made Marty feel uncomfortable, worse still as he slowly turned the pen around in hand, his fingers feeling for the lid before he carefully popped it off and slid it onto the end of the pen.

"I'm in the centre of the page right?"

Marty took a moment to realise Jim was speaking to him. "Yeah, dead centre." He watched as Jim wrote carefully.

"Can you read it?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, it's fine." Marty said as he looked at the name and number written at an upward slope on the page. "Catherine Dunbar?" He questioned.

"She's my cousin. She's nice. Nothing like me so you'll like her." He said over his shoulder as he made his way out of the room.

As he rounded the corner he nearly bumped into Karen as she hurried the other way. "What's the rush?" He asked.

"Hank. He just threw up all over the floor."


Karen sat in the cool waiting room of the vets' surgery waiting for her partner. She tipped her head back and stared at the white painted ceiling. Expensive looking waiting room, water cooler, filter coffee and quiet air conditioning that actually worked! This must cost a fortune to bring an animal here she thought. Not like the local guy she took her rabbit to. He worked out of his back room and all the local kids took every stray they found to him. From the look of his place he kept most of them. Not that her rabbit needed the vet that often. Only when he chewed stuff in the apartment and made himself sick. She smiled to herself as she wondered what he was chewing up whilst she sat here.

As she was lost in her thoughts Karen didn't hear the door to the surgery open.

"Karen?" Jim called.

"Yeah. How's Hank?" She asked, a little nervously as Hank hadn't reappeared with Jim.

"He has a temperature and he's dehydrated, so they want me to leave him here while they keep an eye on him. Just over night while they start some antibiotics and fluids." He sounded worried.

"Will you be OK without him?" She asked.

"Sure, I'll use my cane." He replied as he pulled the cane from his briefcase and started to unfold it.

"I didn't mean like that. You're so soft on that dog Jim, I can see you're not happy about leaving him and not just for selfish reasons."

He laughed a little, "You know growing up I never had a pet and I didn't know you got so attached to them."

"You're right about that. Do you want a ride home? It's just past five now, there's no point going back to the squad."

"Christie and I have another appointment with our couples therapist. It's only round the block so I'll make my way there. Thanks though."

"No problem. See you tomorrow. Maybe we can come back and get Hank. Fingers crossed."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."


Jim arrived at Esther Bergen's office early. As he entered the plush waiting room he made his way over to the receptionists' desk, which he knew sat opposite the door.

"Can I help you?" Said an unfamiliar voice. Esther's usual secretary sounded like an older woman, her voice reminding Jim of his own mother. This new voice was male and young.

"My wife and I have an appointment with Dr Bergen but I think I'm early." As he spoke he slipped the elastic strap of his cane over his left wrist so he could flip the crystal of his watch to check the time. "Fifteen minutes early!"

"If I can just take your name?"

"Dunbar."

"OK take a seat Mr Dunbar. Would you like a drink whilst you wait?" The young man asked politely.

"I'm good, thanks."

Jim sat in one of the leather armchairs positioned near the doors opposite the desk. Leaning back in the chair he realised he could feel the sun on his face. There must be a window in here he thought, directly opposite the door and the chairs. He'd never spent much time in the outer waiting room before mainly because he was usually late for their appointments.

Whilst Jim sat waiting for Christie, Edward Mellor carried on diligently with his work. He didn't often work here, he was usually across town at the other office the partners ran. He didn't mind the occasional change. He liked coming over here and working with Dr Bergen and Dr Armstrong. It was better at the other place with Dr Melrose and Dr Wilson though because they let him do more than answer the phone, file stuff and make coffee. As a filing clerk he wasn't allowed to type up the regular notes but on a couple of occasions when they had been short staffed Dr Melrose and Dr Wilson had him type up some of the case notes they used when they had one of their special inter-office forums. He hadn't been asked to do that here yet but he was hopeful that either Dr Bergen or Dr Armstrong would trust him enough to ask him.

Edward liked typing. His father had said it was a talent he'd gotten from his mother. Something in his fathers' tone told him that it wasn't meant as a compliment. Despite his fathers sneer at his skills Edward did like typing. He liked his job. He liked peeking into peoples' lives and here he had a legitimate reason to do it.

He looked across at the man in the chair again. He was here yesterday he remembered. He'd taken water in to him and his wife. He couldn't really remember the wife though. He'd been concentrating on not spilling the water or dropping the tray. He didn't want to mess up and Dr Bergen made him nervous. He didn't know why. She just did. Suddenly Edwards' attention was caught by a flutter of light that skittered across the desk and over the wall adjacent to it. It was the sun, catching on the face of that mans watch as he flipped it open and felt for the hands.

Edward was intrigued. He'd never met anyone blind before, didn't realize they had Braille watches. It felt odd to sit here and be able to stare as openly as he liked with this man not knowing. Odd but he liked it. It was like he was invisible, a fly on the wall. A bit like being God he thought idly. Lights danced on the wall opposite. Edward glanced down at his own watch seeing the sun flash across its face and the face of his ring. He angled his wrist making a circle of light swim across the wall above the mans head. He moved his wrist down slightly the bright circle catching the mans sunglasses. The glare would have made anyone else shift in his or her chair. Not him though. He really couldn't see a thing. Edward let the disk of light settle on the centre of one of the black lenses and left it there even as his wrist began to ache at being held in such an odd position, like it used to ache when he was a kid holding a glass over ants in the back yard. He almost laughed. He could do anything and this guy wouldn't know. He could stare and study all he liked and he wouldn't know.

Jim leaned forwards a little and rolled the cane vertically between his palms, grinding it into the deep pile of the carpet. He wished Christie would hurry up. He was pretty sure the secretary guy was staring at him and it was beginning to make him feel very uncomfortable. Suddenly he heard the outer door push open and Christie rush in, the tap of her heels immediately lost in the plush of the carpet. Relief swept over him and he rose quickly to greet her.

The woman who had just entered the outer office mesmerized Edward. She was beautiful. Stunning even. Absently he buzzed for Esther. "Your 5.30 is here Dr Bergen." The man folded his cane and took his wife's arm as she led him toward where Dr Bergen had emerged from her office. Look how she leads him, Edward thought. He wondered what else she had to do for him. Did she help him dress? Shave even? She probably did everything around their home ….

"Edward," His reverie was broken by Esther's voice. "Could you bring us some coffee please?" She smiled.

"No problem Dr Bergen. No problem at all."


A while later, after Jim and Christie had left, Dr Bergen picked up the phone and dialled the number for practices other office.

"Hi Marie. Can you put me through to Andrea please? Thanks."

She waited a moment until she heard the familiar voice of her co-partner Dr Andrea Melrose.

"Hi Esther. Are we set for Friday?" Andrea asked her old friend and colleague.

"Sure. I've got a really interesting case file for us to discuss. They're coming to the end of their sessions and I consider them a real success. You'll like the new techniques I used with them. I lifted some ideas from that conference we went to last summer, remember?"

"I can't wait. Anthony won't be free until 6.30 is that OK?"

"Sure. Max and I will be with you at around six." She assured her colleague.

"Are we sad Esther, that we get excited about going over interesting cases out of office hours?"

"No sweetie, we're dedicated to our work." Esther laughed. " I have to go or I won't get the notes typed up in time! See you tomorrow."

With that Esther Bergen hung up the phone, gathered her notes and headed for the outer office.

"Edward? Dr Melrose has had you to type up forum notes before hasn't she?"

"Yes." Edward replied seriously.

"Can you do these ones for me for tomorrow? I know I've left it late I'm sorry to put pressure on you." She smiled.

"No problem Dr Bergen. I'll get them done for you. No problem." Edward smiled, truly happy as he grasped the proffered notes in his pale hand.