Medieval Murders by Aaron Stander Page B

“It’s bigger.”
    Before he met Margrave, Elkins had a stereotypical view of what a psychiatrist should look like: a male, small in frame, with delicate features, burning eyes, and perhaps a goatee. Margrave didn’t fit that stereotype; he was a big man, tall, broad shouldered, with red hair and freckles. Although in his late forties, his physique had changed little from his college basketball days.
    What had impressed Elkins in both group and individual therapy was Margrave’s ability to ask questions that focused the discussion. Ray felt that it would have taken him months longer to work through his grief without Margrave’s help.
    Margrave pointed to a thick manila folder on the table next to his chair. “After you called, I reviewed Bensen’s file.”
    “How long was she a patient of yours?”
    “She started with me about five years ago.” He paused and rummaged through the folder for a few moments, “ Yes, it was late September, five years ago.”
    “It appears that we’re dealing with a suicide. Anything that you can tell me about her that doesn’t violate your professional ethics relative to....”
    “I can answer questions relative to dates and times, I can’t discuss anything relative to what was said during our sessions. I’m checking with our ethicist and attorney as to what I can tell you.”
    “I appreciate that fact. When did she enter therapy?”
    “As I said, I started seeing her about five years ago. It was in late September. At that time her mother was dying. I can’t tell you much more than that.”
    “How long was she in therapy with you?”
    “Almost constantly. And that goes against one of my major beliefs. I don’t want patients to be dependent on me. Sheila was, and I wasn’t very successful at extricating myself.” Margrave stopped and looked at Elkins. “I’m fairly eclectic in my approach. I try to get people functioning quickly. Even though my training was Freudian, I don’t find that approach useful for most of my patients; I’ll use it occasionally if I’m convinced it’s the only thing that’s going to work. I ended up involving Sheila in analysis because I thought that if I could get her through her childhood, I might eventually get her to shed that baggage so we could focus on her current problems.”
    Elkins broke a long silence, “And?”
    “And that didn’t quite work. It wasn’t especially effective. That baggage was too important to her. She wouldn’t let go. She needed a fix of it every day to rationalize the way she dealt with the world.”
    “Did you see her recently?”
    “I was gone most of July and early August, so we didn’t have our usual appointments. I did see her for forty-five minutes last week and the week before.”
    “Was she suicidal?”
    “This is one of those odd things. If I were in her situation, I would be suicidal, but I don’t think that she was.”
    “I’m not following,” said Elkins.
    “Here’s a woman in her forties. She’s in her last year here, her second last year if you know what I mean. They gave her an additional year because her tenure appeals dragged into the next calendar year. She’s burned all her bridges professionally. She would have had a difficult time ever getting another job in her field, a field where there aren’t a lot of jobs to begin with.” He lifted both hands in the air and gestured with agitation, “Yet, she wasn’t upset. I was. She denied the reality of her situation. I was concerned because she wasn’t dealing with it and wasn’t making plans about what she was going to do next. She was denying that there was any problem.”
    “Could she have suddenly come to that realization and decided the only way out was suicide?” asked Elkins.
    “I’ve speculated on that. I mean, who’s to say for sure. But in the years that I’ve known her, she never let reality intervene very much. So the question I have to ask is, why now? Of course, these things are not unheard of. People deny