Obsession Read Online Free PDF Page A

she’d been hospitalized, she looked peaceful. I sat there for a while. Her nurse came in, checked her vitals, turned on the morphine drip, said she’d be out for at least six hours, I could leave and come back. I stuck around a little longer, finally went home because I had a test to study for.”
    One hand clawed a chair arm. “The call came at three a.m. Mommy had passed in her sleep.”
    “I’m so sorry, Tanya.”
    “They said she didn’t suffer. I’d like to think that she went peacefully because she was able to express herself that last time. I need to honor her memory by following through. Since she died, I’ve been replaying it every day. ‘Terrible thing.’ ‘Killed him, close by.’ Sometimes it feels ridiculous, like one of those corny scenes you see in old movies: ‘the killer was—’ and then the person drops back and closes their eyes? But I
know
Mommy wouldn’t have wasted the time and energy she had left if it wasn’t important. Will you talk to Detective Sturgis?”
    “Of course.”
    “Maybe if you tell him what Mommy was like, he won’t think I’m totally whack. I’m so glad I came back to you. You understand why she was more than the best mother. I didn’t come out of her womb and when Lydia ditched me, it would have been easy to send me off somewhere and go on living her life. Instead, she
gave
me a life.”
    “You brought meaning to her life, as well.”
    “I hope.”
    “Her pride in you was obvious, Tanya.”
    “It wasn’t equal, Dr. Delaware. Without
her
I’d be
nothing
.” She glanced at her watch.
    “We’ve got time left,” I said.
    “That’s really all I have to talk about.” She stood again. Out of her purse came a white business-sized envelope that she’d brought to me.
P. L. Bigelow
embossed on the back flap, an address on Canfield Avenue. Inside was a sheet folded in perfect thirds. Typed list, centered.
    Four other addresses, each accompanied by Tanya’s handwritten notation.
     
Cherokee Avenue, Hollywood.
We lived here four years, from when I was three until I was seven
.
    Hudson Avenue, Hancock Park.
Two years, seven until around nine or so
.
    Fourth Street, the Wilshire district.
One year, nine to ten
.
    Culver Boulevard, Culver City.
Two years, ten until twelve, then we bought the duplex
.
     
    Constructing the timeline using her age. Playing adult but clinging to the self-centered world view of an adolescent.
    I said, “Maybe whatever happened was relatively recent.”
    Pretending to be a believer.
    “At Canfield? No, it’s been peaceful there. And I was older when we moved, would know if something happened in the neighborhood. By the way, I relinquish all confidentiality so feel free to tell Detective Sturgis anything you want. Here, I’ve put it in writing.”
    Out of the purse came another razor-creased paper. Handwritten release note, composed in the stilted wording of amateur legalese. Then a check, made out to the discounted fee I’d billed her mother ten years ago. Twenty percent of what I got nowadays.
    “Is that okay?”
    “Absolutely.”
    She headed for the door. “Thank you, Dr. Delaware.”
    “Did your mother ever talk about any malpractice cases at the hospital?”
    “No. Why?”
    “The E.R.’s a high-risk unit. What if a patient she was involved with died and she felt responsible?”
    “No way she’d ever mess someone up fatally, Dr. Delaware. She knew more than some of the doctors.”
    “Lawsuits don’t always depend upon truth,” I said. “In a hospital situation, lawyers sometimes go after anyone who blinked at the patient.”
    She leaned against the door. “Malpractice. Oh, my God, why didn’t I think of that? There could be some huge lawsuit pending and she was worried someone would go after my trust fund. Or the duplex. She wanted to tell me more but ran out of steam—you’re brilliant, Dr. Delaware!”
    “It’s just a suggestion—”
    “But a great one. Scientific parsimony, right? Go for the simplest