“That can’t be true. You think? I mean, people want to know what’s going on in the world. A television broadcast is never going to take the place of hard news.”
“All I know is there was a time when a newspaper was the heartbeat of the city. Now, not so much. It’s like the lifeblood is draining out.”
“Well, that’s depressing.”
“Try looking at it from where I stand,” she said.
13
I walked back to the office and retrieved my car. I had time for one more stop before I headed home. I checked my index cards to verify Taryn Sizemore’s address. I cruised up State and turned right onto a side street, approaching a bar and grill called Sneaky Pete’s, which had closed and reopened under a new name some years before. Despite the new moniker, it was still referred to as Sneaky Pete’s. What loomed large in my mind’s eye was the vision of the specialty of the house: a sandwich made with spicy salami and melted pepper jack cheese, topped with a fried egg, the whole of it served on a Kaiser roll that dripped with butter as you ate. I would have pursued that fantasy, but I spotted Taryn Sizemore’s office address directly across the street. I had to make a hasty turn at the next corner and swing back around. It was well after five by then, and many of the area businesses were closed for the day, which made street parking a breeze.
I locked my car and entered the renovated Victorian structure, which apparently now housed an entire complex of psychologists’ offices. From this, I cleverly deduced that Taryn’s PhD must be in marriage and family therapy, counseling, or social work. She’d probably had years of professional training in how to feign interest in what others had to say. This might work to my advantage until she realized I wasn’t in the market for a shrink.
Hers was suite 100 on the ground floor. I went in and found myself in a small, comfortably furnished waiting room complete with an apartment-size, chintz-covered love seat and two small easy chairs. The color scheme was a soothing blend of blues and greens, probably designed to calm clients whose emotional tendencies ran to upset and agitation. There were no windows and only one other door, which I assumed opened into her office proper.
To the right of the door was a glowing red light. I took this to mean she was currently occupied. It was dead quiet. I checked my watch, hoping I hadn’t missed the boat altogether. It was 5:25. It was my understanding that therapists operated on a fifty-minute hour, but I had no idea when the hour began. I sat down, noting that she subscribed to six women’s magazines, all current. I picked up a copy of House & Garden and turned to an article about easy Easter-themed entertaining for eight, then realized I don’t know eight people, let alone eight who’d suffer my cooking even if I invited them.
After fifteen minutes passed, I got up and tiptoed to the door, listening for sounds from within. No comforting murmur of conversation, no shrieks or sobs. I sat down again. Having arrived without an appointment, I didn’t feel I had the right to bang on the door and complain. It was always possible she’d left for the day, but surely she’d have locked the front door. At ten minutes of six, the light switched abruptly from red to green. No one emerged. There must be a separate outside exit so a loony-tunes patient was never subjected to the indignity of crossing paths with another nut job.
At six, the door to her office opened and a young woman appeared at a brisk pace. She stopped dead when she caught sight of me. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anybody was out here.” She turned and glanced at the room behind her in dismay. “Do you have an appointment?”
“I don’t. I stopped by on the off chance I might catch you before you left for the day. Are you Ms. Sizemore?”
She held out her hand. “Taryn, yes.”
“Should I have said ‘Doctor’ Sizemore?”
“Taryn’s fine. Even with a PhD, I don’t call myself ‘doctor’ anything. It seems pretentious.”
“Kinsey Millhone,” I said as the two of us shook hands. “Do you have a few minutes?”
I watched her make a quick decision. “I have to be somewhere at seven, but I can give you until six thirty if that helps.”
“That would be great.”
“Come on in.”
She turned on her heel and I followed her into her office, waiting while she closed the door behind us.