In the Last Analysis Read Online Free PDF

assurance of his innocence. Had he murdered the girl, the problem would not, of course, have been outside. Yet what policeman in the world could one convince of all this? Stern? Kate forced her thoughts back to the facts.
    “Emanuel,” she asked, “where were you between ten of eleven and twelve-thirty? Don’t tell me you suffered a blow on the head and simply wandered about, uncertain of who you were.”
    Emanuel looked at her, and then at Nicola, and said to Kate, “How much has she told you?”
    “Only the normal routine of the day, really, plus a word or two on the finding of the body. We had, for the moment, skipped over the magic hour.”
    “Magic is the word,” Emanuel said. “It was all done with such cleverness that really, you know, I don’t blame the police for suspecting me; I almost suspect myself. When you add to the quite justified suspicions of police, the mysterious and still, I fear, not quite fully American profession of psychiatry, it’s no wonder they assume that I went mad and stabbed the girl on my couch. I don’t think they have any doubts.”
    “Why haven’t they arrested you?”
    “I wondered that myself, and decided finally that there really isn’t, yet, quite enough evidence. I don’t know much about the ins and outs of this, but I gather the D.A.’s office has to be convinced they’ve got enough evidence to have a good chance for conviction before they’ll allow an arrest and trial. A really clever lawyer (which it is assumed I could afford with ease) would make mincemeat of what they’ve got so far. As I see it, there are two problems: what this will do to me professionally, which I prefer for the moment to ignore, and the fact that as long as they believe I did it they will not really work to find who did. In that case I am doomed, either way.”
    Kate felt a great surge of admiration and affection for this deeply intelligent and honest man. No one knew better than she (or, perhaps, did Nicola?) his failure to meet the day-to-day demands of a personal relationship, but at that still center of himself she recognized, as in every crisis she always would, an honor, an identity, that nothing would shatter. She had lived long enough to know that when you find intelligence and integrity in the same individual, you have found a prize.
    “I’m surprised they let you go on seeing your patients, even today,” said Nicola, in tones of sarcasm. “Perhaps you might go mad, since we are apparently to consider it a symptom of your profession, and stab another victim. Wouldn’t they look foolish then?”
    “On the contrary,” Kate said lightly. “They’d have their case wrapped up. I imagine that partly they are hoping he will do it again, and cast away all doubt, and partly even they, in their dim, methodical way, suspect somewhere in the depths of their beings that Emanuel didn’t do it.” Hereyes met Emanuel’s and then dropped, but he had seen the faith, and it had strengthened him.
    “The irony great enough to make Shakespeare howl,” Emanuel said, “is that the girl had recently become very angry, which means transference. When she canceled today, I assumed it was because of that, and didn’t feel surprised. How clever we like to think we are!”
    “Did she call you to cancel the appointment?”
    “I didn’t speak to her, but in the normal course of events that is hardly surprising. She and the twelve o’clock patient—who later showed up and catapulted Nicki into finding the body—both of them, I learned at about five of eleven, had canceled their appointments.”
    “Isn’t that a bit unusual?”
    “Not really. As a rule, of course, two patients don’t cancel in a row, but it’s by no means extraordinary. Sometimes patients hit a patch of difficult material, and just can’t face it for a while. It happens in the course of every analysis. Or they tell themselves they’re too tired, or too busy, or too upset. Freud came to understand this very early. It’s