“She’ll be here for Christmas dinner, Judd. Will you come?”
He hesitated. “We’ll talk about it later, Norah. I’m sorry about tonight.” He hung up. He wished he knew some tactful way to stop Norah’s matchmaking.
Judd had gotten married in his senior year in college. Elizabeth had been a social science major, warm and bright and gay, and they had both been young and very much in love and full of wonderful plans to remake the world for all the children they were going to have. And on the first Christmas of their marriage, Elizabeth and their unborn child had been killed in a head-on automobile collision. Judd had plunged himself totally into his work, and in time had become one of the outstanding psychoanalysts in the country. But he was still not able to bear being with other people celebrating Christmas Day. Somehow, even though he told himself he was wrong, that belonged to Elizabeth and their child.
He pushed open the door of the phone booth. He was aware of a girl standing outside the booth waiting to use the phone. She was young and pretty, dressed in a tight-fitting sweater and a miniskirt, with a bright-colored raincoat. He stepped out of the booth. “Sorry,” he apologized.
She gave him a warm smile. “That’s all right.” There was a wistful look on her face. He had seen that look before. Loneliness seeking to break through the barrier that he had unconsciously set up.
If Judd knew that he had a quality that was attractive to women, it was deep in his subconscious. He had never analyzed why. It was more of a handicap than an asset to have his female patients falling in love with him. It sometimes made life very difficult.
He moved past the girl with a friendly nod. He sensed her standing there in the rain, watching as he got into his car and drove away.
He turned the car onto the East River Drive and headed for the Merritt Parkway. An hour and a half later he was on the Connecticut Turnpike. The snow in New York was dirty and slushy, but the same storm had magically transformed the Connecticut landscape into a Currier and Ives picture postcard.
He drove past Westport and Danbury, deliberately forcing his mind to concentrate on the ribbon of road that flashed beneath his wheels and the wintry wonderland that surrounded him. Each time his thoughts reached out to John Hanson, he made himself think of other things. He drove on through the darkness of the Connecticut countryside and hours later, emotionally worn out, finally turned the car around and headed for home.
Mike, the red-faced doorman who usually greeted him with a smile, was preoccupied and distant. Family difficulties, Judd supposed. Usually Judd would chat with him about Mike’s teen-age son and married daughters, but Judd did not feel like talking this evening. He asked Mike to have the car sent down to the garage.
“Right, Dr. Stevens.” Mike seemed about to add something, then thought better of it.
Judd walked into the building. Ben Katz, the manager, was crossing the lobby. He saw Judd, gave a nervous wave, and hurriedly disappeared into his apartment.
What’s the matter with everyone tonight? thought Judd. Or is it just my nerves? He stepped into the elevator.
Eddie, the elevator operator, nodded. “Evening, Dr. Stevens.”
“Good evening, Eddie.”
Eddie swallowed and looked away self-consciously.
“Is anything wrong?” Judd asked.
Eddie quickly shook his head and kept his eyes averted.
My God, thought Judd. Another candidate for my couch. The building was suddenly full of them.
Eddie opened the elevator door and Judd got out. He started toward his apartment. He didn’t hear the elevator door close, so he turned around. Eddie was staring at him. As Judd started to speak, Eddie quickly closed the elevator door. Judd went to his apartment, unlocked the door, and entered.
Every light in the apartment was on. Lieutenant McGreavy was opening a drawer in the living room. Angeli was coming out of the bedroom. Judd felt anger flare in him. “What are you doing in my apartment?”
“Waitin’ for you, Dr. Stevens,” McGreavy said.
Judd walked over and slammed the drawer shut, narrowly missing McGreavy’s fingers. “How did you get in here?”