psychiatric unit. It wasn’t a bad question. "It’s not just Win," Julia added. "Our family doctor said to keep things as normal as possible."
Garret shook his head. "Whatever," he said.
I didn’t want to be a bull in a china shop, but I didn’t want to leave without learning as much as I could about the family’s emotional dynamics. "Garret," I said. "How are you handling what’s happened here over the past forty-eight hours?"
He stopped fidgeting and made fleeting eye contact with me. For an instant, he looked as if he might cry. But then his expression hardened. "Fine," he said defiantly. "I’ll get through it."
Julia winced.
I reached out and gently touched her arm. "If you — or anyone else in the family — want to talk about what happened, I’d be happy to take the time," I said. I noticed Anderson staring at my hand lingering on Julia’s soft skin and withdrew it.
She swallowed hard. "Thank you," she said. "I don’t suppose we can all be expected to ‘get through it’ by ourselves."
* * *
"What do you think?" Anderson asked as we started down the driveway, heading back toward Wauwinet Road.
"I’ll tell you what I don’t think," I said. "I don’t think Darwin Bishop forgot to let you know Billy was hospitalized in New York."
"Meaning?"
"Anyone who can trade stocks on the Nikkei twenty-four hours after he finds his daughter dead in her crib doesn’t forget that the chief of police is stopping by with a shrink from Boston. He wanted us at the house."
"Why? Why drag us out here when Billy wasn’t available?"
"Maybe to check me out, maybe to deliver a message. He certainly got his point across: How damaged Billy is; how he, Julia, and a half-dozen psychiatrists have tried to help him; even how Billy fits the portrait of a psychopath to a tee. He didn’t miss a beat: Firesetting. Cruelty to animals. Bedwetting. He even threw in self-mutilation, for good measure — the biting and hair-pulling."
"He was answering your questions," Anderson said. "He didn’t volunteer a thing."
"A man like Darwin Bishop communicates the same way a black belt fights," I said. "He harnesses your momentum to take you where he wants you to go. If he wanted to tell you something about his company, he wouldn’t blurt it out. He’d make you think you were dragging the information out of him." I nodded to myself. "He’s handling this the way he would handle a business deal. Strategically."
"Well, is isn’t a great strategy," Anderson said. "He’s backing the D.A.’s office against a wall. Once the media gets hold of the fact that Billy is out of state, Tom Harrigan almost has to charge him with the murder. Otherwise, he looks weak."
"That could be exactly what Bishop is hoping for."
"To force Harrigan’s hand, make him go after Billy before he’s really ready to?"
"Or," I said, "to make him go after Billy instead of someone else."
Chapter 4
The last Cape Air flight landed me back in Boston just after 8:00 P.M. Anderson and I had decided I would shuttle to New York the next morning, provided he could get me clearance that quickly to meet with Billy Bishop at Payne Whitney.
On my way back to Chelsea, I stopped at Massachusetts General. I wanted to make good on my promise to see Lilly Cunningham after the incision and drainage of her leg abscess.
She was sleeping when I got to her room, but her bedside lamp was on. Even from her doorway I could see that the surgery had been more extensive than planned. Her leg was in traction, bent at the knee and suspended six, eight inches off the mattress. Her thigh was covered with a wet gauze dressing. Two thin steel rods had been screwed into each side of her femur.
I knocked on the door frame, but she didn’t awaken. I walked into the room. I stood there half a minute, listening to the tired electronic beeping pulse of the
Garret shook his head. "Whatever," he said.
I didn’t want to be a bull in a china shop, but I didn’t want to leave without learning as much as I could about the family’s emotional dynamics. "Garret," I said. "How are you handling what’s happened here over the past forty-eight hours?"
He stopped fidgeting and made fleeting eye contact with me. For an instant, he looked as if he might cry. But then his expression hardened. "Fine," he said defiantly. "I’ll get through it."
Julia winced.
I reached out and gently touched her arm. "If you — or anyone else in the family — want to talk about what happened, I’d be happy to take the time," I said. I noticed Anderson staring at my hand lingering on Julia’s soft skin and withdrew it.
She swallowed hard. "Thank you," she said. "I don’t suppose we can all be expected to ‘get through it’ by ourselves."
* * *
"What do you think?" Anderson asked as we started down the driveway, heading back toward Wauwinet Road.
"I’ll tell you what I don’t think," I said. "I don’t think Darwin Bishop forgot to let you know Billy was hospitalized in New York."
"Meaning?"
"Anyone who can trade stocks on the Nikkei twenty-four hours after he finds his daughter dead in her crib doesn’t forget that the chief of police is stopping by with a shrink from Boston. He wanted us at the house."
"Why? Why drag us out here when Billy wasn’t available?"
"Maybe to check me out, maybe to deliver a message. He certainly got his point across: How damaged Billy is; how he, Julia, and a half-dozen psychiatrists have tried to help him; even how Billy fits the portrait of a psychopath to a tee. He didn’t miss a beat: Firesetting. Cruelty to animals. Bedwetting. He even threw in self-mutilation, for good measure — the biting and hair-pulling."
"He was answering your questions," Anderson said. "He didn’t volunteer a thing."
"A man like Darwin Bishop communicates the same way a black belt fights," I said. "He harnesses your momentum to take you where he wants you to go. If he wanted to tell you something about his company, he wouldn’t blurt it out. He’d make you think you were dragging the information out of him." I nodded to myself. "He’s handling this the way he would handle a business deal. Strategically."
"Well, is isn’t a great strategy," Anderson said. "He’s backing the D.A.’s office against a wall. Once the media gets hold of the fact that Billy is out of state, Tom Harrigan almost has to charge him with the murder. Otherwise, he looks weak."
"That could be exactly what Bishop is hoping for."
"To force Harrigan’s hand, make him go after Billy before he’s really ready to?"
"Or," I said, "to make him go after Billy instead of someone else."
Chapter 4
The last Cape Air flight landed me back in Boston just after 8:00 P.M. Anderson and I had decided I would shuttle to New York the next morning, provided he could get me clearance that quickly to meet with Billy Bishop at Payne Whitney.
On my way back to Chelsea, I stopped at Massachusetts General. I wanted to make good on my promise to see Lilly Cunningham after the incision and drainage of her leg abscess.
She was sleeping when I got to her room, but her bedside lamp was on. Even from her doorway I could see that the surgery had been more extensive than planned. Her leg was in traction, bent at the knee and suspended six, eight inches off the mattress. Her thigh was covered with a wet gauze dressing. Two thin steel rods had been screwed into each side of her femur.
I knocked on the door frame, but she didn’t awaken. I walked into the room. I stood there half a minute, listening to the tired electronic beeping pulse of the
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