A beat. “Okay, your wheelhouse. May I have Dr. Deeb call you personally?”
“That would be best. What kind of doctor is he?”
“Historian,” said Meredith Rinaldi, as if she just discovered a rare species.
I said, “Then he should be pretty good at giving a personal history.”
“Pardon— oh. Heh. Should he use the same number I did?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks, Dr. Delaware. I’m sure you’ll do a thoughtful job.”
“I’m assuming Judge Abrahamson explained my fee schedule.”
“Her clerk did,” said Meredith Rinaldi. “Pardon my saying so but it is a bit…steep vis-à-vis other consultants I’ve worked with.”
I said nothing.
“Still,” she said, “I suppose one gets what one pays for. Hopefully.”
—
By day’s end, I still hadn’t heard from Milo and did my final check-in with the service. Pauline was on duty again.
“Hi, Dr. Delaware. A Mr. Conrad Deeb would like to meet with you about his daughter, Philomena. Here are a couple of numbers where you can reach him.”
“Mr. not Dr.?” I said.
“Actually, he just said Conrad. Sounded like a nice guy.”
—
Two 818 numbers. Voicemail on the first, quick pickup at the second.
“This is Conrad.”
“Dr. Delaware returning your call.”
“Doctor?—ah, the psychologist. Thanks for getting back. I suppose we need to meet.”
I suppose I need to have a prostate exam.
I said, “When’s a good time for you?”
“I’m a teacher, only have one course, so my time’s pretty open. Anything but Friday. I have to say this is the first time I’ve done this.”
“Spoken to a psychologist?”
“Gotten embroiled in a custody dispute. Is there anything I should bring?”
“Just yourself, Professor.”
“Professor?” he said. “Oh, Meredith told you.” He chuckled. “According to her it could help make me seem more respectable.”
“Being a professor?”
“Yup,” said Conrad Deeb. “But I have to say, I’m not sure. You know what people think of academics—heads in the clouds. May I ask what we’ll be doing? Overall. Contextually.”