“What brought things to a head?”

“The party. She loved parties as much as I hated them. But Paul wanted me at this one- ordered her to stay away. She argued, threw a fit. He told her that both of us couldn’t go and I’d be the one. This was for psychologists. Professionals only. A special occasion for him and he wouldn’t see it ruined by her acting-out. That set her off- she attacked him, tried to stab him with a pair of scissors. The first time she’d ever gotten physical with him. He overpowered her, gave her a large dose of barbiturates, and locked her in her room. Saturday night, right after the party, he let her out. Told me she looked calm, was actually pleasant- remorseful. Forgive and forget.”

“How did you handle the party?” I asked. “Meeting Mrs. Blalock’s friends.”

“For them I was Sherry- smiling and looking sexy. It wasn’t that hard- there wasn’t much substance to her. For all the psych people I was me. The two groups didn’t mingle at all, and mostly I stayed with Uncle Billy.”

Magpies and swans…

“Forgive and forget,” I said. “But she’d done neither.”

She stared at me. “Must we go further, Alex? It’s so ugly. She’s gone now, out of my life- out of our lives. And I have a chance for a new start.”

She raised my hand to her lips. Licked the knuckles.

“Hard to begin without ending,” I said. “Closure. For both of us.”

She sighed. “For you,” she said. “Only for you. Because you mean so much to me.”

“Thanks. I know it’s hard, but I really think it’s best.”

She squeezed my hand. “I got your message on Sunday. I was disappointed, but I could tell from your voice that it wasn’t farewell. You were nervous, had left the lines open.”

I didn’t argue.

“So I was thinking about whether to call you, or wait until you called me to set up another date. I decided to wait, let you move at your own pace. You’d been on my mind all day and when the knock on my door sounded, I thought it was you. But it was her. All covered with blood. And laughing. I asked her what had happened- had she been in an accident? Was she okay? And then she told me. Laughing. What she’d done- the horror of it and she was laughing!”

Sharon burst into tears, began shaking violently, doubled over and held her head.

“She didn’t do it by herself,” I said. “Who helped her?”

She shook some more.

“Was it D.J. Rasmussen?”

She looked up, tear-streaked, mouth open. “You knew D.J.?”

“I met him.”

“Met him? Where?”

“At your house. Both of us thought you were dead. We came there to pay our last respects.”

She tore at her face. “Oh, God, poor, poor D.J. Until she told me what she’d… what they’d done, I’d never known he was one of her… conquests.”

“He was the only one she held on to,” I said. “The most vulnerable. The most violent.”

She groaned and straightened, pulled herself to her feet and began circling the room, slowly, like a sleepwalker, then faster and faster, tugging her earlobe so hard I thought she’d tear it off.

“Yes, it was D.J. She laughed when she told me that, laughed about how she’d gotten him to do it- using dope, booze. Her body. Mostly her body. I’ll never forget the way she put it: ‘I did him, so he’d do them.’ Laughing, always laughing, about all the blood, how Paul and Suzanne had begged. And poor Lourdes, so sweet, leaving, on her way out, when they caught her coming down the stairs. Sunday was her day off- she’d stayed late to help tidy the house. Laughing, about how she’d tied them, watched as D.J. did them- with a baseball bat and a gun. Him thinking all the time that it was me he was doing it for-me who’d used him.”

She ran over and sank to her knees. “That’s what amused her the most, Alex! That he’d never known the truth- all the time he thought he was doing it for me!”

She took hold of my shirt, pulled me to her, to her breasts. “She said that made me a murderer too. That when you really got down to it, we were one and the same!”

I helped her up, then lowered her back to the bed. She lay down, curled fetally, eyes wide open, arms wrapped around her trunk like a straitjacket.

I patted her, stroked her, said, “She wasn’t you. You weren’t her.”

She uncurled her arms and put them around me. Drew me down, bathed my face with kisses. “Thank you, Alex. Thank you for saying that.”

Slowly, gently, I drew myself away, still patting. Saying, “Go on. Get it out.” The therapist’s prompt…

She said, “Then her laughter got crazy- weird, hysterical. All of a sudden she stopped laughing completely, looked at me, then down at herself, all the blood, and started to tear off her clothes. Coming down hard. Realizing what she’d done: By destroying Paul, she’d destroyed herself. He was everything to her, the closest she’d ever come to a father. She needed him, depended on him, and now he was gone and it was her fault. She fell apart, right before my eyes. Decompensating. Sobbing- not play-acting now, real tears- just wailing like a helpless baby. Begging me to bring him back, saying I was smart, I was a doctor, I could do it.

“I could have calmed her down. The way I’d done so many times before. Instead, I told her Paul was never coming back, that it was her fault, she’d have to pay, no one would be able to protect her from this one, not even Uncle Billy. She looked at me in a way I’d never seen before- scared to death. Like a condemned woman. Started in again, begging me to bring Paul back. I repeated that he was dead. Said the word over and over. Dead. Dead. Dead. She tried to come to me for comfort. I pushed her away, slapped her hard, once, twice. She backed away from me, stumbled, fell, reached into her purse and took out her daiquiri flask. Drank it, slobbering and crying, letting it dribble down her chin. Then out came her pills. She took handfuls of them, began gobbling them down. Stopping every few seconds to stare at me- daring me to stop her, the way I’d done so many times before. But I didn’t. She lurched into my bedroom, still carrying her purse- stark naked, but with the purse, she looked so… pathetic.

“I followed her in. She took something else out of the purse. A gun. A little gold-plated pistol I’d never seen before. My new toy, she said. Like it? Got it on Rodeo fucking Drive. Broke it in today. Then she pointed it at me, tightened her finger on the trigger. I was sure I was going to die, but I didn’t beg, just remained calm, looked her straight in the eye, and said, ‘Go ahead, spill some more innocent blood. Get filthier, you worthless piece of scum.’ ”

“Then the strangest look came onto her face. She said, ‘I’m sorry, partner,’ put the gun to her temple, and pulled the trigger.”

Silence.

“I just sat there looking at her for a while. Watching her bleed, her soul pass out of her. Wondering where it was headed. Then I called Uncle Billy. He took care of the rest.”

My chest hurt. I realized I’d been holding my breath and let it out.

She lay there, gradually loosening, getting dreamy-eyed. “And that’s all there is, my darling. An ending. And a beginning. For us.”

She sat up, smoothed her hair, loosened the top button of her dress, and leaned forward. “I’m cleansed now. Free. Ready for you, Alex- ready to give you everything, to give myself in a way I’ve never given to anyone. I’ve waited so long for this moment, Alex. Never thought it would come.” She reached for me.

Now it was my turn to get up and pace.

“This is a lot to handle,” I said.

“I know it is, darling, but we’ve got time. All the time in the world. I’m finally free.”

“Free,” I said. “And rich. I never thought of myself as a kept man.”

“Oh, but you wouldn’t be. I’m really not an heiress. Mr. Belding’s will says the money stays in the corporation.”

“Still,” I said, “with Uncle Billy administering everything- the way he feels about you, life’s bound to be pretty luxurious.”