Free Obsession by Jonathan Kellerman

tank?”
    “Uh-uh a bowl.”
    “A goldfish?”
    “Uh-uh goldfish are too dirty, the man said.”
    “What man is that?”
    “From the fish store. Mr. Stan Park.”
    “What kind of fish did Mr. Park sell you?”
    “A guppy. Real small.”
    “Does the guppy have a name?”
    “We thought it was a girl but it got color on the tail.”
    “So it’s a boy.”
    “We changed the name.”
    “From a girl name to a boy name?”
    “He was Charlotte, now he’s Charlie.”
    “How does Charlie feel about being a boy instead of a girl?”
    “He’s a
fish
. He doesn’t
think
.”
    “He never thinks about anything? Like ‘I wonder when Tanya will change my water?’”
    “His brain is too little for words.”
    “So he just swims back and forth and doesn’t worry about anything,” I said.
    Silence.
    “Do you worry?”
    “Fish also don’t have stomachs,” she said. “Food goes in and out so don’t feed them too much.”
    “You know a lot about fish.”
    “I read a book.” Tiny hands drifted to the stack of paper, squared the corners.
    “I have some fish, too.”
    “Guppies?”
    “No, they’re called koi. Kind of like giant goldfish but all different colors.”
    Skeptical stare. “Where?”
    “Outside in a pond. Want to see?”
    “If Mommy lets me.”
     
     
    We walked out to the van. Patty looked up from her newspaper. “So soon?”
    “He has giant fish, Mommy.” Tanya’s arms spread.
    “Really.”
    “Outside in a giant pond.”
    “We’re going to feed them,” I said. “Want to come along?”
    “Hmm,” said Patty. “No, I’ll just let the two of you get to know each other.”
     

CHAPTER 9
     
    At Beverwil and Pico, less than a mile from Tanya’s house, my service beeped in.
    “It’s Flora, Doctor. Detective Sturgis called. He’ll be out for a while but you can try him in a couple of hours.”
    “Did he say what it was about?”
    “No, Doctor. It was just him being him.”
    “Meaning?”
    “You know,” she said. “The way he always is, Mr. Jokey. He told me with my voice I should be on the radio selling beachfront condos in Colorado.”
    “You do have a nice voice, Flora.”
    “I used to,” she said. “If only I could quit smoking. He sounds kind of cute. Is he?”
    “Depends on your perspective.”
     
     
    Canfield Avenue was narrow and dark and quiet, but no sign of anything remotely ominous.
    No reason for there to be. I’d slipped into thinking this was real.
    Point me at a puzzle and aim.
    Years ago, I’d been the perfect therapist for Patty and Tanya. They hadn’t known the real reason why, never would.
     
Alexander is very bright but he seems to feel a need for absolute perfection that can lead to some emotion in the classroom. I rarely label a child overly conscientious but that may apply, here.

    Alexander needs to understand that not everyone in 3rd grade learns as quickly as he does and that making mistakes is acceptable.

    Alexander is doing well in junior high but he needs to work on exhibiting more self-control when projects don’t go as planned.

    Alex is an excellent student, particularly in science, but he doesn’t seem to endorse the concept of group work. Hopefully high school will teach him to accept himself as a member of a team…
     
    Year after year of well-meaning teachers, leaving conferences with my parents, convinced their insights were beneficial.
    He’s so hard on himself, Mr. and Mrs. Delaware.
    Dad responding with the jovial, knowing grin. Mom at his side, docile, silent, ladylike in a clean dress and the one pair of shoes with heels.
    How could any of those teachers have known that when Dad
wasn’t
feeling jovial, imperfection could result in rages as predictable as snakebites.
    That falling short meant a beefy workingman’s belt scourging a child’s narrow back, next day’s welts and bruises concealed by shirts and sweaters and silence.
    No way for the teachers to grasp that when too much discussion filled the house, Mom had been