U Is for Undertow

hoping she had a tissue tucked in there somewhere for nasal emergencies.
    “What’s on your mind?” I anticipated a few follow-up questions about the dig the day before. Maybe she’d apologize for being pushy and deceptive, traits I found attractive in myself but unappealing in her.
    “We need to talk about Michael Sutton,” she said.
    I went through an automatic sorting process, wondering:
    1. How and what she knew about Michael Sutton;
    2. Whether she was fishing to confirm my professional relationship with him; and
    3. Whether I was still bound by ethical constraints now that our one-day business dealings had come to an end. What, if anything, was I at liberty to disclose?
    “Where did that name come from?”
    “Cheney Phillips told me he talked to Michael at the station and then referred him to you. I spotted Michael at the dig yesterday, and since you were at the scene as well, I’m assuming he hired you. Is that correct?” Even without her spiral notebook at hand, she was confirming the facts.
    “Why not ask him?”
    “I don’t want to talk to him.”
    “Too bad. I don’t intend to conduct a conversation behind his back so there you have it.”
    “We don’t have to behave like antagonists. I’m here to save you a few headaches . . .”
    I opened my mouth to interrupt and she held up one hand.
    “Just listen to me,” she said. “I didn’t realize what was going on until I saw his MG parked by the side of the road. I’d been sent to cover the story, so I waited like everyone else to see what they’d find. I assumed the police were operating on an anonymous tip and then it dawned on me Michael was involved.”
    “That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here.”
    She cocked her head and the light glinting off her glasses was like a quick camera flash. “I’m his sister, Dee.”
    Ah. Dee, the difficult one. I looked at her closely, seeing for the first time Sutton’s solemn brown eyes staring back at me. “Alvarez is your married name.”
    “I’m divorced. Pete’s my ex.”
    “Peter Alvarez, the radio talk-show host?”
    “The very one,” she said. “I take it Michael mentioned me.”
    “Briefly. He told me you were estranged.”
    “Did he tell you why?”
    “No, and I didn’t ask.”
    “Shall I fill you in?”
    “To what end?”
    “I think you should know what you’re dealing with.”
    “Thanks, but no thanks. A conversation about him is inappropriate.”
    “Hear me out. Please.”
    I debated with myself. Technically, I was no longer in his employ and nothing she said would have any bearing on the job he’d hired me to do. I couldn’t imagine where she was headed and I confess my curiosity got the better of me. “Keep it short,” I said, as though a brief airing of the dirty laundry would be less objectionable.
    “I’ll have to backtrack first.”
    “No doubt,” I said. Long-winded storytelling must have been a family trait. Michael had done the same thing, making sure the facts were arranged in date order. I could see her composing sentences in her head.
    “Michael’s been depressed all his life. As a child, he was always anxious, subject to all manner of imaginary illnesses. He did poorly at Climp and barely managed to graduate. He couldn’t find a job and since he had no income, he asked Mom and Dad if he could go on living at home. My parents agreed on one condition: he had to get help. If he’d find a therapist, they’d pay for it.”
    I was getting restless. Unless Michael Sutton was a spree killer, I didn’t care about his psychiatric history.
    She must have caught my impatience because she said, “Bear with me.”
    “It would help if you’d get to the point.”
    “Are you going to listen to me or not?”
    She fixed me with a stony stare and I could barely keep from rolling my eyes. I gestured for her to continue, but I felt like an attorney questioning the relevance of her testimony.
    “The family doctor referred him to a licensed marriage and family counselor, a psychologist named Marty Osborne. Does her name ring a bell?”
    “Nope.” I could tell she was teasing out the narrative for dramatic effect and it annoyed me no end.
    “Michael seemed to like her and we were all relieved. After he’d been seeing her for a couple of months she suggested his depression was symptomatic of early childhood sexual abuse.”
    “Sexual abuse?”
    “She said it was just an educated guess, but she felt they should explore the possibility. He didn’t