The doctor was rubbing her temples again. “Estelle, let’s make another appointment for tomorrow or the next day. Tell Chloe to add it on at the end of the day if I’m booked up. And try to bring your gentleman along with you. In the meantime, assure him that my practice is mojo-free, would you?”

Estelle stood. “Can that little girl write with those oven mitts on?”

“She’ll manage.”

“So what should I do? I don’t want him to go. But I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself by falling in love. I’m happy, but I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m worried.” Estelle realized that she was starting to whine and looked at her shoes, ashamed.

“That’s our time, Estelle. Let’s save this for our next appointment.”

“Right. Should I tell the constable about the sea monster?”

“Let’s hold off on that for now. These things have a way of taking care of themselves.”

“Thanks, Dr. Val. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good-bye, Estelle.”

Estelle left the office and stopped at Chloe’s desk outside. The girl was gone, but there were animal noises coming from the bathroom just down the hall. Perhaps she had caught one of the oven mitts on her nose ring. Poor thing. Estelle went to the bathroom door and knocked lightly.

“Are you okay in there, dear? Do you need some help?”

The answer came back in high moan. “I’m fine. Really fine. Thanks. Oh my God!”

“You’re sure?”

“No, that’s all right!”

“I’m supposed to make an appointment for tomorrow or the next day. The doctor said to pencil it in late if you have to.” Estelle could hear thumping noises coming from the bathroom, and it sounded as if the medicine cabinet had dumped.

“Oh wow! Wow! Oh wow!”

The scheduling must really have been tight. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore. Call me to confirm, would you, dear?”

Estelle left Valerie Riordan’s house even more unsettled than she had come in, thinking that it had been quite some time, half a day anyway, since she had had her skinny Bluesman between the sheets.

Val had a break between appointments, time in which to reflect on her suspicion that by taking everyone in Pine Cove off antidepressants, she had turned the town into a squirrel’s nest. Estelle Boyet had always been a tad eccentric, it was part of her artist persona, but Val had never seen this as unhealthy. On the contrary, the self-image of an eccentric artist seemed to help Estelle get over losing her husband. But now the woman was raving about sea monsters, and worse, she was getting involved in a relationship with a man that could only be construed as self-destructive.

Could people—rational adult people—still fall in love like that? Could they still feel like that? Val wanted to feel like that. For the first time since her divorce, it occurred to her that she actually wanted to be involved again with a man. No, not just involved, in love. She pulled her Rolodex from the desk drawer and thumbed through it until she found the number of her psychiatrist in San Junipero. She had been in analysis all through med school and residency, it was an integral part of the training of any psychiatrist, but she hadn’t seen her therapist in over five years. Maybe it was time. What sort of cynicism had come over her, that she was interpreting the desire to fall in love as a condition requiring treatment? Maybe her cynicism was the problem. Of course she couldn’t tell him about what she had done to her patients, but perhaps…

A red light blinked on the tiny LED panel on her phone and the incoming call, screened by Chloe, who had obviously taken a short break from her self-abuse, scrolled across the screen. Constable Crowe, line one. Speaking of squirrels.

She picked up the phone. “Dr. Riordan.”

“Hi, Dr. Riordan, this is Theo Crowe. I just called to tell you that you were right.”

“Thank you for calling, Constable. Have a nice day.”

“You were right about Bess Leander not taking the antidepressants. I just got a look at the toxicology report. There was no Zoloft in her system.”

Val stopped breathing.

“Doctor, are you there?”

All her worries about the drugs, this whole perverse plan, all the extra sessions, the long hours, the guilt, the friggin‘ guilt, and Bess Leander hadn’t been taking her medication at all. Val felt sick to her stomach.

“Doctor?” Theo said.

Val forced herself to take a deep breath. “Why? I mean, when? It’s been over a month. When did you find this out?”

“Just today. I wasn’t given access to the autopsy report. No one was. I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Well, thank you for letting me know, Constable. I appreciate it.” She prepared to ring off.

“Dr. Riordan, don’t you have to get a medical history on your patients before you prescribe anything?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Do you know if Bess Leander had any heart problems?”

“No, physically she was a very healthy woman, as far as I know. Why?”

“No reason,” Theo said. “Oh yeah, I never got your thoughts on the information I shared at breakfast. About Joseph Leander. I was still wondering if you had any thoughts?”

The whole world had flip-flopped. Val had stone-walled up to now on Bess Leander because she had assumed that her own negligence had had something to do with Bess’s death. What now, though? Really, she didn’t know much about Bess at all. She said, “What exactly do you want from me, Constable?”

“I just need to know, did she suspect her husband of having an affair? Or give you any indication that she might be afraid of him?”

“Are you saying what I think you are saying? You don’t think Bess Leander committed suicide?”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just asking.”

Val searched her memory. What had Bess Leander said about her hus-band? “I remember her saying that she felt he was uninvolved in their family life and that she had laid down the law to him.”

“Laid down the law? In what way?”

“She told him that because he refused to put the toilet seat down, he was going to have to sit down to pee from now on.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all I can remember. Joseph Leander is a salesman. He was gone a lot. I think Bess felt that he was somewhat of an intrusion on her and the girls’ lives. It wasn’t a healthy relationship.” As if there is such a thing, Val thought. “Are you investigating Joseph Leander?”

“I’d rather not say,” Theo said. “Do you think I should be?”

“You’re the policeman, Mr. Crowe.”

“I am? Oh, right, I am. Anyway, thanks, Doctor. By the way, my friend Gabe thought you were, uh, interesting, I mean, charming. I mean, he enjoyed talking with you.”

“He did?”

“Don’t tell him I said so.”

“Of course. Good-bye, Constable.” Val hung up and sat back in her chair. She had unnecessarily put an entire town in emotional chaos, committed a basketful of federal crimes as well as breaking nearly every ethical standard in her field, and one of her patients had possibly been murdered, but she felt, well, sort of excited. Charming, she thought. He found me charming. I wonder if he really said “charming” or if Theo was just making that up—the pothead.

Charming.

She smiled and buzzed Chloe to send in her next appointment.