Rachel Alexander 09 - Without a Word

behind the chess players, one addiction abutting the next, one that would keep you out even when the weather was sending more sensible people rushing to get home, the other a little more serious, the other one people killed for, or in some cases, got killed for.
    Ms. Peach was going slowly, stopping every few steps to rest her knee. Putting the camera bag and the contact sheets down on the bench, careful to put the sheets picture side up, I stood so that she’d see me, waving her over, waiting for her to approach before sitting again. It was a little out of her way, but perhaps she was no more anxious to get back to the office than Dr. Edelstein was to have her back there.
    “Ms. Peach,” I said. “Just the lady I was hoping to see.”
    She was frowning, less than delighted to see me, but she looked hopefully toward the bench.
    “Are you having a problem?” I asked, mustering all the faux concern I could on a moment’s notice. “Here, sit down. You look as if you could use a moment to rest.”
    “It’s my knees,” she said.
    I looked up at the sky. “They predicted rain,” as if her knees hadn’t made the same forecast. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
    She frowned again. “No, I just need to sit a minute.” She checked her watch. “The next patient’s not due until two and they’re always late anyway. You’d think for a doctor’s appointment, they could manage to get somewhere on time.” Shaking her head at the lack of consideration some people had. “What is it you wanted to see me about?” Frowning again, figuring it was me, it couldn’t be anything good.
    I slid the camera bag over to make room for her. “It’s about Madison,” I said, winging it as I went along, the way Celia had when she told me how Dr. Bechman earned the money to support his second family. “Mr. Spector was wondering if another pediatric neurologist would be taking over the practice,” I said, congratulating myself on the neutral save, “or if you are recommending someone at another practice.” I waited a moment, but she was rubbing her knee again, not paying all that much attention to what I was saying. “I told him I was taking the dog to the run,” I told her, pointing to the other side of the park, “and that I’d drop by and ask.”
    “They’re still in the talking stage,” she said. “Why? Does Madison need an appointment right away? Has something changed?”
    I shook my head. “Not a damn thing. She’s still got the tics. And she’s still not talking.” Thinking I needed some damage control now. “The shrink thinks she probably never will.” Leaning toward her, just our little secret.
    “That’s too bad,” she said, but I thought I saw a little glimmer of a smile. “And the mother? Any luck there?”
    I shook my head. “Turned out to be a dead end. Or rather, a bunch of dead ends.”
    “I’m not surprised,” she said. “After all, the police must have done everything they could at the time she disappeared and they couldn’t find her. Perhaps she just didn’t want to be found.”
    “We don’t even know if she’s still alive, Ms. Peach, and now it appears we never will.” I checked my watch. It was time to let her go, but I thought I’d go for an extra few minutes, just in case.
    “The child must have taken it very hard, your failure to bring her mother back.” She shook her head. “I imagine this will drive her even further into herself, don’t you?”
    I nodded.
    “Well, I guess it’s time to go. Please tell Mr. Spector that if he needs a referral, he can call me during office hours. And if he can wait, we should know more within a couple of weeks.”
    “Thanks. I’ll tell him.” Then pointing to the little bag. “Something for your knees?”
    “This? Why, no. It’s something for Dr. Edelstein.”
    “Oh, too bad.Pain like that,” shaking my head, “you should be taking something. You shouldn’t have to suffer like that. No one should.”
    She pushed off the bench. I watched her make her way down the path that led out of the park, then wait for a small van to pass before crossing the street. She moved slowly, stopping two more times to take weight off her left knee before finally unlatching the low gate, stepping carefully down the steps and then disappearing behind the iron gate that led under the main staircase.
    I picked up the contact sheets again, looking at the list of drugs. I was sure all the requisite paperwork was in the files, too,