Page 9 of One
“My symptoms have been sporadic, and not that severe. I’m one of the lucky ones, I guess.” Her smile is brief and bitter. “Please don’t aim that compassion my way. You look like a puppy kicked in the stomach by its abusive owner.”
“That’s extremely detailedanddisturbing. And you just said my empathy is a gift.” I try to make light of the situation. Then something occurs to me. “That’s why you were at Grand View the day we met. To see Dr. Sallinger.”
She nods. “It’s getting a little harder lately. Can you keep it to yourself, please? My kids know about it, but they can be quite protective.”
That’s kind of sweet. But kids are smart; you can’t hide much from them for a long time. Still, it’s none of my business how Meg wants to deal with her situation.
“Sure,” I easily offer. “But I don’t know them, so…”
She winces for some reason. Does she think I’m upset I haven’t met her family yet? Because I’m not. We’re friends, but not the kind that you invite to a family barbecue. What I have with Meg is good as it is already. “It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Hippocratic oath?” She stretches her arm toward me.
“Nope,” I reply, grabbing her hand and shaking it. “Friend oath.”
“I like that.” The corner of her mouth kicks up again.
“Dr. Sallinger is a great doctor with an excellent reputation. You’re in good hands.” I feel the need to tell her this, even though I’m sure she already knows.
She just nods. “Will you keep going with your Mrs. Fletcher marathon tonight?” I know she’s trying to change the subject, but I’m a sucker for the centenarian actress fromMurder, She Wrote,so I let her.
“Yep. I have an appointment with the astute, sweet-looking dame. I’m on season two. How about you? Still immersed in Lieutenant Columbo?”
Meg nods. “Justice is always served with him. It brings me such joy.”
“I particularly enjoy how he makes the killer squirm. Slowly pulling the noose around his neck, the killer’s crimson blood boiling in his veins from the fear of being caught,” I say, dark pleasure lacing my words. When I catch Meg silently studying me, I clear my throat and put a big smile on my face. “His relentless interrogations and nonchalant obtuseness cracks me every time.”
She replies with her own grin. “He’s a master of disguise. His absentminded behavior lulls the killers into a false sense of security. The mental game of cat and mouse is always very entertaining.”
“It is.”
“Sometimes I wonder: what if Columbo wasn’t a cop? What if he was a vigilante?” Meg contemplates out loud.
Interesting. “Like a cunning, guileful defender.”
“He takes care of all the vile people who hide in plain sight.”
I like that. “And avenge the forgotten victims.”
“Do you think it’d be wrong of him to do it?” Meg asks.
“It depends.”
“On what?”
I ponder my answer. “His motivations, perhaps.”
“Why do motivations matter if the results are always the same? Getting malevolent people off the street.”
“Because if his motivations are mostly dark, he could get lost in them, and become one of the evils he’s chasing.”
Fuck, this is too close to home for my liking. Being raised Catholic, I have a sinner stigma pushing heavily on my shoulders. And although I don’t believe in the church, the Pope, or even God, the guilty feeling that was fed to me for most of my formative years isn’t easy to shake off. I’m a coroner. A little oddness is expected from me. But the level of wickedness I enjoy is way past society’s standards. And therefore, very wrong.
“So maybe what he needs is someone to keep him grounded. To remind him which path to walk on.” Meg’s voice takes me back to our discussion.
“That would help. But where to find such a person?” I ask rhetorically, taking another spoonful of cheesecake and attempting to enjoy it.
“Where, indeed?” Meg’s smirk disappears behind her tea mug.
