I - The Adventure of the Final Problem
Jul 4, 2019 12:32:11 GMT -5
silentpartner, Cross Recoba, and 2 more like this
Post by Deleted on Jul 4, 2019 12:32:11 GMT -5
I
The room struck a tenuous balance between bland and comfortable. The walls were eggshell, the carpet taupe with a geometric grey rug neatly laid between the plush, charcoal couch and the matching chair across, a glass topped table on top of that with a box of tissues perched on it. There was a mahogany desk almost in the background, diplomas and other qualifications in simple frames on the wall. A large window provided a fine view of a park nearby, marred as it currently was with fat raindrops that were occasionally joined by more, each making a soft, wet ‘plit’ sound as it hit the glass.
John sat on this couch, his body language rigid, eyes tracing over new surroundings. He had a suit on. Similar to what he’d wear to an appearance that required such attire. There was an older woman sitting across from him in that chair. That assumption only made by her short cropped grey hair because her face despite the telltale signs of aging was still youthful and exuberant as she observed him. She was dressed professionally: white blouse, dark colored slacks, and high heels. She adjusted the thin black framed glasses on the bridge of her narrow nose as she noticed the man looking at every bit of the room except right ahead at her.
“Good morning, John,” she flipped open a manilla folder that had been on her lap, quickly moving past the cover sheet of the packet inside, “I’m Doctor Jillian Moriarty...”
She trailed off, seeing how he would pipe in and there was no response. Time moved slow as John finally turned his attention on her, or actually looking out the window behind her.
“Like The Adventure of the Final Problem.”
“That’s right,” she smiled, making a little note on the first page but then she pressed on, “Doctor Richards recommended we meet.”
“Okay,” John checked his watch despite the one on the wall.
The doctor was unphased by what could be construed as rude behavior. She had after all been doing this line of work for thirty one years now. She knew that it took all kinds of people to make the world work but she did enjoy the no nonsense approach.
“John, may I ask you some questions?”
Nothing.
“So I’ve read a lot about you. You’re a popular subject in some communities. Thing is, that’s all conjecture. John, tell me about yourself.”
“I turned forty two on March 15th.”
“Oh, happy belated birthday. Mine’s not until November. The big sixty,” she paused to take another note, “So I want to speak a little about you. It may be some of that conjecture I just mentioned so feel free to correct the record.”
“Okay.”
“You spent twenty years…”
“19 years and six months. People like to round up but the first six months were spent in county during all aspects of the trial.”
“Thank you, John. Nearly twenty years at the Ely State Prison. Death row,” in polite conversation, she’d dance around the implication but something told her that would bear no fruit, “Convicted of the murder of your wife Christina and your unborn child. Anyway, forgive me if I sound like a Wikipedia article here. You were exonerated. Most legal experts agree that the evidence and timeline was crafted through the aid of a coerced confession. Most believe that Christina’s death was an accidental overdose of your prescription painkillers. Most believe that your only crime so to speak was the improper disposal of her body.”
“She liked that tree. So I buried her there.”
The questions one would normally ask didn’t apply here. John continued to look anywhere except at Moriarty as they conversed.
“Are you angry about that?”
“About what?”
“I’d be angry in your situation.”
“Nothing I can do about it.”
“You’re right. We can’t go back and change all of that. But what about what happened during?”
“That, too.”
Another response, another note. She then turned to a questionnaire that John filled out online, “That’s okay. Thank you for filling this out. I also spoke with Mike on the phone,” and then casting out questions for obvious answers, “Who’s Mike to you?”
“My partner.”
“What does that mean to you?”
“I don’t understand.”
“My husband is my partner, too, John. Is that what you mean?”
“No. We aren’t married.”
Moriarty nodded, “Frank is my best friend, too. Is it like that?”
“Sure.”
“Anyway, this isn’t about Mike unless you’d like it to be.”
“Mike isn’t here. That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Right. They’re just outside this room. This is about you, though. But if you think Mike is your best friend - we may end up talking about them in the future. Is that okay?”
“Okay.”
“John, I’d like to help.”
“With what?”
“That’s a loaded question but that’s why we are here right now. What if I were to tell you that I’ve met a lot of people just like you?”
John shrugged, but for the first time, he met the doctor’s dark brown eyes.
“People who don’t like their routines disrupted. John, you wrote that you have breakfast at 7:05AM every morning. What happens if you don’t?”
“I don’t think about that.”
“Are you ever frustrated that people don’t understand you? In our short time, I’ve understood you loud and clear but … has anyone ever been angry at you just from talking to you?”
There is a very long moment of silence between the two, John fidgeted with his watch.
“John?”
Uncharastically, his absolute nature wavered, “Maybe.”
“I know people that may just be like you. And if that is the case, I could help you.”
That’s the second time she said that. John repeated the same answer, his tone raised just a little.
“With what?”
“Whatever you’d like,” she closed the folder, setting it aside on the arm of the chair, “But I can tell you that this has got a little scattered. By design, mind you. We touched on a lot of what makes you who you are. I do appreciate you interrupting your day to speak with me. So I’d like to give you some of that time back if you’d like. But, John, I’d like to speak every time you circle back home. I understand your schedule is very busy. Mike told me you two have a flight scheduled in a few hours so I think we could accomplish more when you aren't in a time crunch. Plus ... well, just think about our conversation. I'd like to help if you'd let me."
Third time. Different answer, however.
“Okay. I’ll have to ask Mike.”
Doctor Moriarty nodded in response, “Certainly.”