Free Vengeance by Stuart M. Kaminsky Page B

carpenter. Melanie just took care of her mother, didn’t play with other children much, just read and took care of her bedridden mother. When she was fourteen, her father had a heart attack and had to retire. Melanie went to work in a restaurant waiting tables after school till ten at night. No boyfriends. No close friends. It was Melanie’s idea to move to Florida with her father and mother. They moved to Gainesville while she earned her degree while continuing to work. Then, about four years ago, just after her parents died within a week of each other, she met Carl Sebastian.”
    “And what’s she like?”
    “Complicated,” he said, playing with his pencil. “Dedicated herself to her husband and to helping children. She worked long hours for not much pay at a Catholic agency. She fought the system, the courts, the psychiatrists, to save children. When Melanie Sebastian gives her love, she gives it with a conviction, compassion and ferocity I’ve never seen before.”
    “You know this from experience?”
    “I know it from observation. I’ve told you more than I probably should.”
    “You haven’t told me why she was seeing you and what you make of the story of Melanie Sebastian you just told me,” I said.
    “And I won’t,” he said, putting down the pencil and looking at me.
    “Do you know where Mrs. Sebastian is?”
    “No.”
    The answer had come slowly.
    “Any ideas?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Want to share them with me?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “This one may get me kicked out, but we’re both in a hurry,” I said. “Mr. Sebastian thinks you and his wife were having an affair.”
    Green cocked his head and looked interested.
    “You’ve already more than hinted at that. And if we were having an affair?”
    “Or are,” I amended. “Well, it might suggest that she would come to you. Her husband just wants to talk to her.”
    “And you just want to find her for him?”
    “That’s it,” I said.
    “First,” he said, getting up from his desk chair, “I am not and have not been having an affair with Melanie, Mrs. Sebastian. In fact, Mr. Fonesca, I can offer more than ample evidence that I am gay. It’s a relatively open secret, which, in fact, hasn’t hurt my practice at all. I get the gay clients, men and women, and I get women who feel more comfortable talking to me than they would a straight male or female. I don’t get many straight men.”
    “You can somehow prove that?” I asked. “Or do I just take your word?”
    “The truth is,” he said, looking at his watch, “I don’t have the time to prove it nor the desire, but I’m sure if you ask in the right circles, you’ll get the confirmation you need.”
    The chair was comfortable. I was tempted to lean back.
    “Okay, let’s say you’re gay.”
    “Let’s say.”
    “You could still be a friend of Melanie Sebastian. She was, or still is, a patient. She might be inclined to confide in you.”
    “She might,” he said, standing up and smiling. “In which case, I couldn’t tell you.”
    “Dilemma,” I said.
    “It would appear.”
    “I told Sebastian that when I found her I wouldn’t tell him where she was if she didn’t want to be found. When I find her, I’ll do my best to persuade her to talk to her husband or tell me why she won’t.”
    “When,” he said. “Not if. You don’t look like a terribly confident man, Mr. Fonesca.”
    “About most things I’m not. About finding people, I am.”
    “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, checking his watch again.
    “If she gets in touch with you, please give her my card or my number. I just want to talk.”
    He took the card and gave me a sympathetic smile.
    “May I ask a somewhat personal question, Mr. Fonesca?”
    “I don’t think I’m your type, Doctor.”
    He chuckled. It sounded sincere.
    “No, I’ve seen a great many people with severe depression. I’ve learned to recognize some of the signs, and—”
    “I’ve already got a shrink,” I said. “And I