JONATHAN KELLERMAN. THE CLINIC

“Hands-off, how?”

“She let me do my own thing. I’m kind of compulsive, so it worked out.”

“A self-starter.”

She laughed. “That’s a nicer way to put it.”

“So someone who needed more guidance might find her style difficult?”

“I suppose so, but that would just be speculation.”

“What about Casey Locking? Is he a self-starter?”

“I don’t know Casey.” Tension in her voice.

“Not at all?”

“Not well. You’re an alumnus, Dr. Delaware, you know how the program operates: three years of coursework, quals, then on to dissertation research. Some students know what they want, hook up with an advisor right away. I didn’t. Between my job, my daughter, and classes, I was in a pretty severe time crunch.”

“How old’s your daughter?”

“Three. I just sent her off to day care. They have excellent day care here.”

“Better than L.A.?”

“Better than I found in L.A. I wanted someplace that would provide some nurturance, do more than warehousing. Anyway, I was crunched, needed to finish, so you can see why there wasn’t much time to socialize with Casey or anyone else.”

“Did you have any contact with him?”

“Minimal. He—our paths were different.”

“In what way?”

“I’m interested in clinical work. He didn’t seem to care about that at all.”

“Pure research?”

“I guess so.”

“He’s a little different,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“The black leather.”

“Yes,” she said. “He does try to project an image.”

“So even though the two of you were Professor Devane’s only students, you had little to do with each other.”

“Correct.”

“Do you know anything about his research?”

“Something about self-control. Animal studies, I think.”

“Was Professor Devane hands-off with him, too?”

“Well,” she said, “they published together, so they must have shared some common ground. Why? Is Casey . . . implicated somehow?”

“Would it surprise you if he was?”

“Of course it would. The thought of anyone I know doing something like that would be surprising. Dr. Delaware, I have to say this conversation is making me uncomfortable. I can’t even know for sure you’re really who you say you are.”

“If you’d like, I can give you the number of the police detective assigned to the case.”

“No, that’s all right. I have nothing more to say anyway.”

“But discussing Casey made you uncomfortable.”

She gave a small, soft laugh. “That sounds like a therapeutic comment, Dr. Delaware.”

“Is it an accurate comment?”

“Discussing anyone makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like to gossip.”

“So it’s nothing to do with Casey, specifically?”

“He—I have some feelings about him but they’re really not relevant.”

“You don’t like him?”

“I’d rather not,” she said, a bit louder.

“Ms. Gonsalvez,” I said. “Professor Devane was murdered very brutally. There are no leads and no way to know what’s relevant and what isn’t.”

“So Casey is under suspicion?”

“No, he isn’t. Not formally. But if there’s something about him that upset you, I’d like to know about it. Or I can have Detective Sturgis call.”

“Oh, boy,” she said. “Oh, boy . . . I really can’t afford to have this getting back to Casey. He’s—I’m not afraid of him but he’s someone whose bad side I wouldn’t want to be on.”

“Have you seen his bad side in action?”

“No, but he’s—I’ve seen his research. I wasn’t being totally honest when I said I thought he was running animal studies. I know he was because one night I happened to be down in the basement and passed his lab. I was grading some papers and had to pick them up in the prof’s basement lab. It must have been eleven o’clock, everyone was gone. I heard music—heavy-metal music—and saw light coming through a partially open door. I peeked in and there was Casey, with his back to me. He had cages of rats, mazes, all sorts of psychophysiologic equipment. The music was very loud and he never heard me. He had a rat in his hand—between his fingers. Pinching its neck. The poor thing was squirming and squeaking, Casey was clearly hurting it. Then he started dancing around. To the music—doing a little jig while he pinched the rat. Its tail was—it was horrible to watch. I wanted to rush in and stop him but I didn’t. Too scared, being down there alone. Since then I guess he always has scared me—the leather, his manner. Have you seen that ring he wears?”

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