The Neurotic Psychiatrist
Susan Alvarado, a Psychiatrist, stood looking at the
San Francisco misty skyline from a large window in
her office. The Bay Bridge dressed in a gray fog
seemed to be ready for an evening on the town.
The Trans America Pyramid blushes a golden
glow as the evening sun caresses its slim tapered body.
Susan’s large, exquisitely decorated office stood on
the second floor of a remodeled stone building located
in Nob Hill. Her expertly styled hair glistened in the light
giving it a golden brilliance; while around her temples,
some strands of gray could be seen because she ceased
attempting to conceal the fact she had just turned forty-five.
Her small, delicate, sleek body and creamy complexion
made her look like she was in her early thirties.
Her Asian-looking, emerald colored eyes had tiny lines
that resembled hummingbird’s feet because she had
also given up using any type of concealer on her oval face.
She used no lipstick; and her cheeks held a perpetual
pinkish blush. She wore a black, Albert Nipon suit with
long sleeves. On her feet, she wore Manolo Blahnik
black patent leather open-toe Mary Jane pumps with
4-inch covered heels.
She wore no jewelry except for a large black,
teardrop-shape Tahitian 12 mm pearl suspended between
her firm petite breasts by a long thin 18-carat gold chain.
She wore no rings on her slim fingers since her
divorce three months earlier. Her Ph.D. degree from the
University of California, Berkley, hung between two
massive mahogany built-in bookcases containing numerous
textbooks on Psychiatry, Religion and Philosophy.
She walked back to her massive, antique mahogany desk,
her pump heels making a taping sound on the highly
polished mesquite flooring. The clock-calendar on her
desk read 6 p.m. Wednesday, November 10,1999. A
copy of The San Francisco Herald prominently displayed
on her desk shouted. The Market Street Killer Strikes Again.
She thought about why Lieutenant Lee, a detective with
the San Francisco Homicide Division, wanted to talk to her.
Her erudite mind told her he wanted to discuss the killings
of prominent men in and around the Market Street
Embarcadero Center area.
She unlocked a filling cabinet and removed Henry Long’s
patient case record and placed it inside her black alligator
briefcase. Before closing it, she noticed a Taurus Model
25-caliber gun with a pearl grip handle. She perched on
the edge of her desk, wondering who had placed the gun
there. A voice from the phone speaker echoed around
her large office,
“Miss Alvarado, if you want to keep your appointment with
Lieutenant Lee, you need to leave now.”
She hurried into the bathroom inconspicuously located
behind huge live tropical green ferns in large terra cotta
pots. Looking in the mirror, she began combing her hair.
Bending over the sink, she took a long, hard look at her f
ace, whispering,
“What the goddamn hell happened to your young face?
That bastard husband of yours took ten good years off
your life. He sucked most of your essence, but now he’s
out of your life for good.”
She reached for her gray, nine-button calf-length, designer,
camelhair coat and walked out of her office. She locked t
he door while saying to her receptionist,
“You can go home Carina. See you tomorrow.”
Exiting the elevator, she walked across a large,
thick-carpeted lobby. The concierge opened a glass
door leading to the outside and hailed a cab. Opening
the cab's door, the attendant said,
"Have a wonderful day Miss Alvarado"
Her smiled fascinated and captivated the doorman
as he fumbled with the cab’s door. She Handed him
a twenty dollar bill saying,
"Thank you Alfred"
She gave the cab driver a piece of paper with the address
her secretary had given her. The cab’s odor reeked of
cigarettes. She extracted a monogrammed Christian
Dior J’Adore scented handkerchief from her sleeve,
and placed it over her nose.
Leaning back on the taxi’s seat, her analytical mind
continued going over all her patients who displayed a
tendency of psychotic behavior. She suspected one of
her patients was responsible for the killings in the area.
Arriving at her destination, she hurried up the steep, stone
steps of the distinguished police building and went inside.
She leisurely walked to a large desk where a burly, bald
Sergeant sat smoking a cigarette
She felt his eyes looking at her and felt he was undressing
her. Holding her temper in check she said with a smile,
“I’m here to see Lieutenant Lee,”
After getting directions, se walked down a corridor full of
cigarette buts on the dirty floor. She saw a door that read,
Lieutenant Chong Lee, Homicide. She hesitated wondering
whether she should knock. She went in and saw the
Lieutenant standing looking out a grimy window.
She closed the door. The sound made Lieutenant Lee turn.
He stared at Susan with cold threatening eyes. His short,
slim body stood ramrod straight. He wore a right-hand
Model 500 8 3/8 tan leather shoulder holster that held a
black Smith & Wesson M&P45 pistol.
His silver badge was anchored in the front of his black
leather belt. His straight-olive black hair glistening like the
blue-black wings of a grackle. His light blue button-down
shirt full of wrinkles seemed too big for him. His blue blazer,
gray pants and brown loafers cried out, Outlet store. His
intense, coal-black eyes bored into Susan, but before he
could say anything she said,
“Well I’m here, what’s so important?”
The Lieutenant's angry face turned white as he responded
with a deep and intimidating voice,
“You’re not in your four-thousand-dollar-a-month studio.
You’re in my side of the street and you better damn knock
before you enter my office!”
Susan refused to truckle instead, her bright calm and
collected face held a hint of a smile as she said,
“My goodness, what rudimentary discourse you use to
acknowledge me. I bet your testosterone levels are at
an all time high. Your rapturous greeting makes me think
you’re excited to see me.”
Lieutenant Lee’s face relaxed and he motioned her to sit
down. He sat behind his steel desk his penetrating eyes
evaluating her. In all his years on the force not once had
he seem anyone like her. Her enchanting eyes looked
straight at him. She was like a vision from a dream.
Looking pass her he said with an angry voice said,
“Let’s cut the bullshit, never mind your damn ten-cent
words. Tell me the name of your husband and when did
you last see him?”
Susan knew right away that he wanted her. She always
knew when a man looked at her the way the Lieutenant did.
In a coy voice she responded,
“His name’s David Romo if it’s any of your business. I have
not seen him since our divorce three months ago.”
“Well, we just located him in an ally under some oily
wooden pallets next to the Embarcadero Center. He
had a black bullet hole in the back of his blond head.
The Medical Examiner said he had been dead for three
days.”
Susan matched the Lieutenant’s stare saying,
“I am not surprised. He was a loathsome and detestable
man.”
Lieutenant Lee continued to look at Susan but not to gage
her reactions to his questions but rather, his gaze took in
Susan’s features. For the first time, he saw her as a very
desirable woman. His eyes became softer and his
demeanor had soften. He became amenable as he said,
“Another stiff turned up two blocks away shot in the same
manner. It seems we have a dumb, crazy serial killer
running loose. Have you been reading about it?”
Susan’s captivating smile made small dimples on her
cheeks and her blush became more apparent after noticing
the change in the Lieutenant’s tone. She was right in her
assesment of this officer of the law.
“I wouldn’t call the person dumb. I believe this individual is a schizophrenic who cannot distinguish fantasy from reality.”
Susan’s eyes became softer and greener as she continued,
“I would also venture to say this person has hallucinations
that also causes him to hear voices. Schizophrenics are
extremely intelligent. you will not have an easy time with this
case.”
She rose from the confining and uncomfortable chair and
walked toward the door and opened it. Lieutenant Lee stood
saying,
"One more question, do you have a client fitting the killer’s
personality profile?”
She turned and said,
“Client? You mean patient, don’t you lieutenant? Have you
forgotten. I cannot divulge privileged information about my
patients?”
She smiled sweetly and walked out of the office and exited
the building. She headed north on Market Street toward the Embarcadero Center.
Lieutenant Lee called his partner and asked,
“Did you film our meeting Rob?”
“Yes, I got all the conversation on tape”
The young and energetic detective responded. Crossing
his arms the Lieutenant continued
“She didn't mention the third murder, and she didn't exhibit
any type of reaction when I mentioned her husband’s death.
What does that suggest to you?”
Rob placed a pale hand on his chin and answered,
“Perhaps one of her patients is committing these murders,”
“I wonder,”
He responded walking to a dirty window. He stood watching
Susan Alvarado’s slim figure gliding up Market Street, while
his ardent mind conjured up fantasies about the possibilities.
Susan started feeling an excruciating pain slithering inside
her head. The searing pain engulfed her brain blocking some
of the neocortex that control consciousness.
I have to take control of this matter myself she thought, I’m
afraid Mr. Long fits the profile of the serial killer; but how did
he manage to place the gun in my briefcase?
She continued walking north, her heels keeping time to an
unheard rhythm as the tall buildings devoured most of the
late evening’s light. She entered a park area and sat on a
deep-green steel bench. She opened her briefcase and
picked up her slim mobile phone and the file of Henry Long.
She dialed his number as deep, dark, shadows began
chasing the evening’s dim light away.
“Hello Mr. Long, this is Ms. Alvarado; I have something very
important to share with you. Please meet me at the park next
to the Embarcadero Plaza”.
The dark, gray fog enveloped the people remaining on the
sidewalk; and the hungry, black, menacing night swallowed
all remaining light. She waited patiently for Henry Long and
making plans on how she would deal with him.
She heard a scraping noise and saw an indistinct figure
standing five feet away, but could not make out the features
until a voice said,
“Miss Alvarado, what’s the matter? I got here as fast as I
could”
“Mr. Long, I want you to give yourself up to the police. I
will continue to see you but these killings must stop.”
She stood up from the bench and continued,
“Lets go to the police station. I promise you will receive
all the help you need”
Henry Long stared at her with an incredulous and
suspicious look. He then turned and quietly walked
away without saying a word.
He did not hear the soft crack of the gun nor felt the
25-caliber bullet penetrating the back of his head.
He fell dead between the narrow stone sidewalk and
the moist grass.
Susan Alvarado returned the smoking pistol to her
briefcase and closed it. She no longer had a headache
and felt marvelous as she left the park humming a tune.
Hailing a cab, she became disoriented as if her cognitive
mind had taken a temporary vacation. Bewildered and
confused, she struggled to remember what she was doing
in the park, but her mind had already hidden her actions
somewhere in her aberrant brain
End
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