a camera on his shoulder to climb the steps. “You were aware that a suit was filed? Charging you with malpractice and wrongful death?”
Before she could answer, another reporter came from behind a van with “Channel 7 News” lettered on its side in diagonal black graphic. “You did know that you were the beneficiary of James Hutchins’s will?” asked a vaguely familiar woman.
Diana gripped the wrought iron railing. Once again she was at 33 rpm, separated from these frenetic plastic-looking people, not of the same world as everyone else. She was only peripherally aware of Craig’s hands gripping her shoulders as the memory that had eluded her that morning came flooding back. “Without you I’d be nothing—you’ve saved my life,” James had told her after his promotion at Fidelity. “And to show you my gratitude, I’m going to change my will so that you’re my sole beneficiary. When I die, you’ll be a rich woman.” She had dismissed the whole thing as another one of his meaningless grandiose gestures, forgetting the incident completely. Until now.
“We deny everything,” Craig boomed in a strong, angry voice, coming around to stand in front of Diana, blocking her from view. “This is completely trumped up and ridiculous.”
“Do you deny that your wife is the beneficiary of James. Hutchins’s considerable estate? We have information from a source in Hutchins’s lawyer’s office …”
“No one has contacted us.” Craig hesitated, his voice not nearly as confident as before. “We have seen no documents.” He turned and propelled Diana toward the open door. “We have nothing else to say.”
As they slipped into the foyer the woman called out. “What about the sexual abuse charge?”
Diana and Craig stopped and turned as if one. “What?!”
“Jill Hutchins charges that Dr. Marcus was having sexual relations with her brother,” Holt said. “She claims he told her the whole story. Told another psychiatrist too.” The microphone once again rose up in front of Diana’s face. “Do you have any comment, Dr. Marcus?”
“That’s completely insane,” sputtered Craig, shoving the microphone away from Diana and pulling it toward himself. “It’s a complete and total lie!”
“If you knew anything about people suffering from borderline personality disorder,” Diana said, “you would know that—”
“Don’t say anything else,” Craig hissed at Diana, just about pushing her into the house. “We’ll countersue,” he said into the microphone. “For defamation of character,” he called over his shoulder before he shut the door.
Diana leaned back against the cold plaster wall, her eyes locked onto Craig’s; he appeared as shaken as she. Jill’s words reverberated through her brain. You used him for your own perverse pleasures … James told me everything … You two had a real sicko thing going … I even have proof … Diana reached out for Craig’s hand. He pulled her to him and held her tight.
7
D IANA TOOK HER LECTURE NOTES FROM THE FILE AND spread them before her on the desk. Although she was quite familiar with the material, she liked to spend at least half an hour reviewing her notes before each class. This allowed her to speak without consulting the pages, giving her lectures a more extemporaneous feel and, as she told Craig, bamboozling the students into thinking she knew what she was talking about.
Bipolar disorder with psychotic features, she read, although the words might have been engineering jargon rather than psychological nomenclature for all the sense they made to her at the moment. Schizoaffective schizophrenia. Mania.
How was she going to pull this off? she wondered as her eyes skidded down the paper. By just doing it. She started at the top of the page again, forcing herself to concentrate. Bipolar disorder with psychotic features.
Yesterday she had hid in the house, studying her picture in the Boston Globe . She was unable to grasp that the stunned,
Before she could answer, another reporter came from behind a van with “Channel 7 News” lettered on its side in diagonal black graphic. “You did know that you were the beneficiary of James Hutchins’s will?” asked a vaguely familiar woman.
Diana gripped the wrought iron railing. Once again she was at 33 rpm, separated from these frenetic plastic-looking people, not of the same world as everyone else. She was only peripherally aware of Craig’s hands gripping her shoulders as the memory that had eluded her that morning came flooding back. “Without you I’d be nothing—you’ve saved my life,” James had told her after his promotion at Fidelity. “And to show you my gratitude, I’m going to change my will so that you’re my sole beneficiary. When I die, you’ll be a rich woman.” She had dismissed the whole thing as another one of his meaningless grandiose gestures, forgetting the incident completely. Until now.
“We deny everything,” Craig boomed in a strong, angry voice, coming around to stand in front of Diana, blocking her from view. “This is completely trumped up and ridiculous.”
“Do you deny that your wife is the beneficiary of James. Hutchins’s considerable estate? We have information from a source in Hutchins’s lawyer’s office …”
“No one has contacted us.” Craig hesitated, his voice not nearly as confident as before. “We have seen no documents.” He turned and propelled Diana toward the open door. “We have nothing else to say.”
As they slipped into the foyer the woman called out. “What about the sexual abuse charge?”
Diana and Craig stopped and turned as if one. “What?!”
“Jill Hutchins charges that Dr. Marcus was having sexual relations with her brother,” Holt said. “She claims he told her the whole story. Told another psychiatrist too.” The microphone once again rose up in front of Diana’s face. “Do you have any comment, Dr. Marcus?”
“That’s completely insane,” sputtered Craig, shoving the microphone away from Diana and pulling it toward himself. “It’s a complete and total lie!”
“If you knew anything about people suffering from borderline personality disorder,” Diana said, “you would know that—”
“Don’t say anything else,” Craig hissed at Diana, just about pushing her into the house. “We’ll countersue,” he said into the microphone. “For defamation of character,” he called over his shoulder before he shut the door.
Diana leaned back against the cold plaster wall, her eyes locked onto Craig’s; he appeared as shaken as she. Jill’s words reverberated through her brain. You used him for your own perverse pleasures … James told me everything … You two had a real sicko thing going … I even have proof … Diana reached out for Craig’s hand. He pulled her to him and held her tight.
7
D IANA TOOK HER LECTURE NOTES FROM THE FILE AND spread them before her on the desk. Although she was quite familiar with the material, she liked to spend at least half an hour reviewing her notes before each class. This allowed her to speak without consulting the pages, giving her lectures a more extemporaneous feel and, as she told Craig, bamboozling the students into thinking she knew what she was talking about.
Bipolar disorder with psychotic features, she read, although the words might have been engineering jargon rather than psychological nomenclature for all the sense they made to her at the moment. Schizoaffective schizophrenia. Mania.
How was she going to pull this off? she wondered as her eyes skidded down the paper. By just doing it. She started at the top of the page again, forcing herself to concentrate. Bipolar disorder with psychotic features.
Yesterday she had hid in the house, studying her picture in the Boston Globe . She was unable to grasp that the stunned,
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