Kaleidoscope by Dorothy Gilman

herself, or explain anything that happened, or what she heard.”
    â€œIt’s not hopeless,” said Jan firmly. “We’ve a child psychologist on call at the Settlement House, Lou Devoe, who does things with pictures and dolls. She’s very good; I’ll phone her. Her office is downtown; there’s even a window through which you can watch what she does if the child, Jenny—you said her name is Jenny?—could be taken there.”
    â€œJan,” he said, his spirits lifting, “you continue to be a miracle in my life.”
    She said with a smile, “Doubt Marina Karitska if you must, but try to keep in mind just who it was who predicted that we’d meet—and long before we did.”
    â€œTouché,” he said with a grin. “I’ll take this up with the chief at once. Give me this psychiatrist’s address and phone number, and could you call and tell her we just may get clearance for this?”
    For her trip to the psychiatrist someone had given Jenny a shabby dress that hung on her unbecomingly. She was escorted to the office by a policewoman who had mercifully forsworn her uniform lest it frighten the child. Dr. Louise Devoe was all warmth, greeting Jenny, and the matron was banished behind the one-way glass window with Pruden and Swope. From here they could observe what looked more like a playroom than an office, and for Jenny there were dolls of all shapes and sizes, and several stuffed animals to hold.
    It was tiresome, watching, but it rested Pruden to see the tense and frightened child slowly relax and embrace dolls while Dr. Devoe smiled, nodded, and gave her an occasional affectionate hug. After a while the matron left, asking them to call when the appointment was over.
    They had been at the window for over an hour before Dr. Devoe brought out two small doll-like figures—a man and a child—and then a miniature couch. She set the father figure on the couch, the child next to him, and for the first time Jenny smiled. Jenny patted the man, and moved the child-doll a little closer to him, pleased. Dr. Devoe nodded encouragingly— she seemed capable of relating to Jenny on some subconscious level—and waited before she introduced the figure of the doll in a dress. Seeing the woman-doll Jenny stopped smiling. Dr. Devoe handed it to her with an understanding nod, as if to ask where to place the woman in this family scene. Jenny hesitated and then stood the woman behind the tiny couch. After a moment, with an angry guttural sound, she grasped the doll-woman and with it struck the man, and sending him to the floor she burst into tears. Her sobs racked her; she picked up the fallen man-doll and hugged it closely as Dr. Devoe put her arms around her to comfort her.
    â€œIt wouldn’t stand up in court,” Dr. Devoe told Pruden and Swope later, “but I’d say that she definitely re-created the scene you’d come to expect—or to investigate as possibility.”
    Madame Karitska, then, could be believed, thought Pruden, and this very much relieved and satisfied him. It was time to learn who represented the Epworths legally, he decided, and change the direction of their inquiries.
    The Epworths’ lawyer, they discovered, was Everett Harbinger of Benson and Harbinger on State Street, and the next morning, with their appointment made, they waited in two chairs, a table of magazines between them, before they were ushered into Mr. Harbinger’s office. He proved to be a tall thin man with a tired face but penetrating eyes as he looked them over.
    â€œSo,” he said, glancing at the two cards they had sent in to him. “Detective Lieutenant Pruden, and Detective Swope. How can I help you?”
    â€œWe’re investigating the death of John Epworth,” Pruden told him.
    â€œInvestigating?
Still?
” he said dryly. “You surprise me.”
    Very politely Pruden said, “Detectives, like lawyers, want