"But there's more to it, isn't there, Fran? Did she ask you to fence topless with her?" Fran nodded. "I didn't want to. For one thing it's dangerous. For another… I just didn't like the idea. So I told her: 'I'm a jock, but I'm not that hutch.' I think she understood."
"Did you take her proposal as a sexual overture?"
Fran shook her head. "If Jess was inclined that way, she never showed it. No, I think it was just something she wanted to do.
Fencing, fighting-those were things she loved. In some way, I guess, the image turned her on. And once she got it into her head, she wanted to act it out. Janek showed Fran the Polaroids. Fran could not identify the other girl, nor did she recognize the room where the pictures had been taken.
"I wonder if it's a fencing, salon at the Ruspoli Academy in Italy. Fran was there last summer. It's certainly not any practice room we use around here."
"A final question," Janek said. "Did Jess do or say anything that Sunday, anything at all, that made you think she might be afraid."
Fran shook her head. "I don't think Jess was afraid of anything.
That's why she was such a terrific fencer. I remember something she said to me once: 'I'll take life any way it comes.' I think if she saw someone running toward her with an ice pick, she'd have put up a terrific fight. She knew karate. She could disarm a man twice her weight. So whoever killed her must have come at her from behind, and the only reason she didn't hear him coming was that she had her Walkman turned up at the time."
Aaron's interviews convinced him that none of the members of the Greg Gale crowd had harbored any ill will toward Jess.
"They're not murderous types, Frank. Just your standard spoiled, overeducated, decadent, attractive young people with a hunger for dope and thrills. Actually they don't do that much drugs. Mostly pot, occasionally a little coke. to them the sex group's good clean fun, not a cult they'd kill to protect."
Aaron had looked into former boyfriends, too. Except for Gale they all seemed to be jocks.
"Maybe not the brightest guys, but most of them fairly decent. She didn't like pretentious or overstudious types."
Simionov, the fencing coach, had told Janek pretty much the same thing:
"She talked straight and she fenced straight and she liked straight-talking people. If she'd lived, who knows how far she might have gone? Bronze medal, maybe even silver." The coach had shaken his head with grief. "She had everything: talent, will, strength and speed, and as fierce a fighting spirit as I ever encountered in a woman. Who knows? With a little luck she might have gone all the way."
Fran Dunning phoned Janek two days after their walk.
"You said I should call you if I remembered anything.
Good girl! "What do you remember?"
"Something Jess said at the Chinese restaurant. It's probably not important, but I thought I should tell you anyway. She said she might have to stop seeing her shrink."
Interesting. "Did she say why?"
"No. But I'm sure the reason wasn't financial because she once told me her stepfather was paying the fees. I wouldn't remember her mentioning it except the week before she'd been very positive about her therapist."
"Try and recall her exact words, Fran? Did she say she might have to stop or that she wanted to quit?" "I don't remember exactly. But I had the feeling that she was disgusted about something, that whatever it was, it was gnawing at her, and that if she stopped seeing her therapist, it would be at her initiative." Fran paused. "I could be wrong, Lieutenant, but that's what I thought at the time."
Janek thanked Fran and reminded her to call him again if she remembered anything more. When he put down the phone, he thought about what she'd said. Jess's comment could have been a casual remark, but still he was glad he knew about it. He'd been looking,for an excuse to see Dr. Archer again. This time, he resolved, he would limit the discussion to her former patient.
The therapist had set their appointment for 5:00 P.m. As before, she appeared at the door of her waiting room precisely on the hour.
"Nice to see you again, Lieutenant. You have fifty minutes," she announced with a sympathetic smile.
As Janek followed her into the consulting room, he noticed that her curly red hair was dyed.
"Now, how may I help you?" Dr. Archer began smiling again after they were seated in opposing chairs. "Jess tried to get in touch with me two days before she was killed. Any idea why?"
Archer shook her head. "I have no idea, and I can't imagine why you'd ask me that."
"Her father and I were partners once. Laura Dorance thinks Jess might have wanted to ask me about him. Did she talk about him much in here?"
The psychologist looked pained. "As I told you before, Lieutenant, even though Jessica has passed away, I don't feel I can properly discuss her therapy."
"Look, Dr. Archer, I'm conducting a criminal investigation. Right now I need your help. If you refuse to give it to me, then I'm faced with a problem. I can write you off as an unhelpful witness or I can seek a court order to compel you to respond." The therapist was staring at him. Janek smiled to soften his threat. "I certainly hope that won't be necessary."
Dr. Archer sat very still. The office was silent except for the muted sound of classical music issuing from the waiting-room radio.
After waiting futilely for her to speak, Janek decided to take her silence as acquiescence.
"Laura tells me Jess began asking questions about her dad about the time she started seeing you. Laura assumed his name came up in therapy."
"His name did come up," Dr. Archer affirmed.
"Just his name? Or his character?"
The therapist tightened her lips. "I am truly mystified," she said.
"Why are you asking me about this?"
"Please, Dr. Archer, I'm not your patient. I'm here to ask questions, not answer them."
She turned away, irritated. "And you expect me to respond without the right to ask questions of my own-is that how it goes, Lieutenant?"
Janek turned conciliatory. "Can't we try and work this out?"
Archer turned back to him, then folded her hands neatly on her lap. "I shall try to help you as best I can," she whispered, then clamped her mouth shut.
He found the next half hour trying. Archer kept her word, answered all his questions clearly, sometimes even exhaustively. But she made no effort to be pleasant. Rather, she replied to him in terse sentences while gazing at him as though she regarded him as a torturer.
Tim Foy: Yes, he was discussed; in therapy a patient's parents always are. Jessica had described watching her father get into his car and then seeing it explode. Her father's death had been the traumatic event of her early years, yet her long-term response to it had been surprisingly positive. Seeing him die had hardened her will. She was determined never to become a victim. She developed all aggressive personality that she channeled healthily into sports. All of that was entirely to her credit.
Bad dreams: Yes, Jessica had been having them lately. Nothing unusual about that. A patient often feels a requirement to bring dream material to her analyst, especially in the early stages of therapy. The content of her dreams varied, but they were typical college-age stress fantasies: facing an exam while blacking out all knowledge of the subject; finding herself naked in a room in which everyone else is dressed; letting her tewnmates down by stumbling during a fencing match and thus losing a tournament to a rival school.
Sex: Jessica had the normal longings of a woman her age with no indications of lesbianism beyond normal parameters. Again much to her credit, her initial exhilaration at the anonymous sex to which Greg Gale had introduced her gave way fairly quickly to feelings of inner emptiness and ennui.