herself drawn into the cocoon of caring she had experienced when she had consulted Mercy two years before.
'I'm well. I'm trying.'
She felt suddenly defensive under Mercy's searching gaze. She didn't need anyone probing her feelings right now. Besides, this is my investigation, she thought. She straightened her back in the chair. Mercy might be a skilled psychologist, but Jill knew a bit about interviewing too.
'Mercy, as I mentioned on the phone, I want to speak with you about some of your clients.'
'Of course, of course, darling, but first we must have a coffee, a glass of wine? How is your sister?' she said over her shoulder as she walked towards a sideboard.
Mercy's tangle of curls was more unruly than usual and hid half her face as she fussed around an espresso machine in a corner of the room. She turned to face Jill with a coffee cup in one hand, a wine glass in the other, wearing a questioning smile.
'Coffee, thanks, Mercy. Black. No sugar. And Cassie's fine.'
Mercy dropped the smile when she turned back to the sideboard. She sloshed red wine into a huge glass, then attended to the espresso maker.
'I've no more clients today. Might as well,' Mercy chirped brightly as she took a deep sip of her wine. 'Sure I can't tempt you? Just a glass. I picked this up in the Hunter last year. It's a gorgeous pinot noir. You have to try-'
'Mercy, I don't want any wine. Thank you.'
'Of course. No problem. I know you're working. Sorry.'
'Don't be sorry, Mercy. I appreciate the offer.' Jill curbed her impatience. She knew that interviews, unlike interrogations perhaps, should always remain positive. A collaborative atmosphere was required when gathering information from someone. She smiled. 'I really appreciate your time. You look like you've got a lot to do.' She gestured around the room.
Mercy looked at her office as though seeing it for the first time. 'It is a mess, isn't it?' She giggled nervously.
'You should see my office!' Jill knew most people would be happy to eat straight off her desk, it was so clean, but she wanted to join with Mercy, reduce some of her defensiveness.
Mercy finished preparing Jill's coffee and brought it over to the low table. Jill noticed half of the wine Mercy had poured herself was already gone. Oh boy, she thought. Better get on with this.
'Mercy, I've got some news to tell you that could come as a bit of a shock,' she began, when Mercy had taken a seat. 'I'm in the middle of an investigation. Three men have been killed. Believe it or not, Mercy, each of these men was connected to patients you've treated in the past.'
'Are you serious? How extraordinary.'
'That's what I thought.'
'How can I help, Jill?'
'Well, I don't know. The thing is, in an investigation you look for patterns, anything that seems to link things together, and then you follow them wherever they take you. It's probably a little like your work, Mercy, searching for reasons why people have particular problems, looking for things that could have happened in their past.'
'Quite. Yes, I see what you mean.' Another deep sip left little wine in Mercy's glass.
'First I thought I'd tell you the names of the men who've been killed. Maybe you've heard your patients mention them.'
Mercy waited.
'Dennis Rocla, David Carter, George Manzi.'
Nothing.
'Mercy, have you heard those names before?'
'I don't believe so, no, Jill.'
'You're sure? Give it some time.'
Mercy finished her wine, set her glass down on the table. Too hard. The delicate stem of the glass snapped in two.
'Shit!' Mercy looked as though she might cry. She and Jill both stood.
Jill tried a small laugh to dispel the awkwardness. 'Flimsy bloody things. You know, my sister bought me six Riedel wine glasses. Supposed to cost a hundred dollars each or something. She got them duty-free. I've got two left! I'm going to have to go out and replace them before she comes
'I'm well. I'm trying.'
She felt suddenly defensive under Mercy's searching gaze. She didn't need anyone probing her feelings right now. Besides, this is my investigation, she thought. She straightened her back in the chair. Mercy might be a skilled psychologist, but Jill knew a bit about interviewing too.
'Mercy, as I mentioned on the phone, I want to speak with you about some of your clients.'
'Of course, of course, darling, but first we must have a coffee, a glass of wine? How is your sister?' she said over her shoulder as she walked towards a sideboard.
Mercy's tangle of curls was more unruly than usual and hid half her face as she fussed around an espresso machine in a corner of the room. She turned to face Jill with a coffee cup in one hand, a wine glass in the other, wearing a questioning smile.
'Coffee, thanks, Mercy. Black. No sugar. And Cassie's fine.'
Mercy dropped the smile when she turned back to the sideboard. She sloshed red wine into a huge glass, then attended to the espresso maker.
'I've no more clients today. Might as well,' Mercy chirped brightly as she took a deep sip of her wine. 'Sure I can't tempt you? Just a glass. I picked this up in the Hunter last year. It's a gorgeous pinot noir. You have to try-'
'Mercy, I don't want any wine. Thank you.'
'Of course. No problem. I know you're working. Sorry.'
'Don't be sorry, Mercy. I appreciate the offer.' Jill curbed her impatience. She knew that interviews, unlike interrogations perhaps, should always remain positive. A collaborative atmosphere was required when gathering information from someone. She smiled. 'I really appreciate your time. You look like you've got a lot to do.' She gestured around the room.
Mercy looked at her office as though seeing it for the first time. 'It is a mess, isn't it?' She giggled nervously.
'You should see my office!' Jill knew most people would be happy to eat straight off her desk, it was so clean, but she wanted to join with Mercy, reduce some of her defensiveness.
Mercy finished preparing Jill's coffee and brought it over to the low table. Jill noticed half of the wine Mercy had poured herself was already gone. Oh boy, she thought. Better get on with this.
'Mercy, I've got some news to tell you that could come as a bit of a shock,' she began, when Mercy had taken a seat. 'I'm in the middle of an investigation. Three men have been killed. Believe it or not, Mercy, each of these men was connected to patients you've treated in the past.'
'Are you serious? How extraordinary.'
'That's what I thought.'
'How can I help, Jill?'
'Well, I don't know. The thing is, in an investigation you look for patterns, anything that seems to link things together, and then you follow them wherever they take you. It's probably a little like your work, Mercy, searching for reasons why people have particular problems, looking for things that could have happened in their past.'
'Quite. Yes, I see what you mean.' Another deep sip left little wine in Mercy's glass.
'First I thought I'd tell you the names of the men who've been killed. Maybe you've heard your patients mention them.'
Mercy waited.
'Dennis Rocla, David Carter, George Manzi.'
Nothing.
'Mercy, have you heard those names before?'
'I don't believe so, no, Jill.'
'You're sure? Give it some time.'
Mercy finished her wine, set her glass down on the table. Too hard. The delicate stem of the glass snapped in two.
'Shit!' Mercy looked as though she might cry. She and Jill both stood.
Jill tried a small laugh to dispel the awkwardness. 'Flimsy bloody things. You know, my sister bought me six Riedel wine glasses. Supposed to cost a hundred dollars each or something. She got them duty-free. I've got two left! I'm going to have to go out and replace them before she comes
Similar Books
