Molly Hildebrandt was much as Zachary expected her to be. A woman in her sixties who looked ten or twenty years older with the stress of the high-profile death of her grandchild. Gray, curling hair. Pale, wrinkled skin. She wasn’t hunched over, though. She sat up straight and tall as if she’d gone to a finishing school where she’d been forced to walk and sit with an encyclopedia on her head. Did they still do that? Had they ever done it? “Mr. Goldman, thank you for seeing me so quickly,” she greeted formally, holding her hand out for him to shake when he arrived at her door. “Please, call me Zachary, ma’am. I’m not really comfortable with Mr. Goldman.” Telling her that he wasn’t comfortable with it meant that she would be a bad hostess if she continued to address him that way, instead of her seeing it as a way of showing him respect. He hadn’t done anything to deserve respect and was much happier if she would talk to him like the gardener or her next-door neighbor. Not that there was any gardener. Molly lived in a small apartment in an old, dark brick building that was sturdy enough, but had been around longer than Zachary had been alive. The interior, when she invited him in, was bright and cozy. She had made coffee, and he breathed in the aroma in the air appreciatively. It wasn’t hot chocolate after skating, but he could use a cup or two of coffee to warm him up after his surveillance. Standing around in the snow for a couple of hours had chilled him, even though he’d dressed for the weather. Molly escorted him to the tiny living room. “And you must call me Molly,” she insisted. She eyed the big camera case as he put it down. Zachary gave a grimace. “Sorry. I didn’t come to take your picture; I just don’t like to leave expensive equipment in the car.” “Oh,” she nodded politely. She didn’t ask him who he had been taking pictures of. That wouldn’t be gracious. She would have to imagine instead, and she would probably be correct in her guess. They fussed for a few minutes with their coffees. Zachary wrapped his fingers around his mug, waiting for the coffee to cool and his fingers to warm. It felt good. Comforting. He waited for Molly to begin her story. “You probably think that I’m just being a fussy old lady,” she said. “Imagining something sinister when it was just an accident.” “Not at all. Why don’t you tell me why you don’t think it was an accident?” “I’m not sure at all,” she clarified. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe it was an accident. It isn’t that I doubt their findings…” she trailed off. “Not really. I know they had to do an autopsy and all that. We waited for months for them to come back with the manner of death. I thought that once they ruled, everyone would feel better.” “But you still have doubts?” “I’m worried for my daughter.” Zachary blinked at her and waited for more. “She’s not well. I had hoped that once they released the body… and after the memorial… and after the manner of death was announced… each milestone, I thought, it would get better. It would be easier for her, but…” Molly shook her head. “She’s getting worse and worse. Time isn’t helping.” “Your daughter was Declan’s mother.” “Yes. Of course.” “What’s her name?” “Isabella Hildebrandt,” Molly said, her brows drawn down like he should have known that. “You know. The Happy Artist.” Zachary had heard of The Happy Artist. She was on TV and was popular among the locals. Zachary didn’t know whether she was syndicated nationally or just on one of the local stations. She had a painting instruction show every Sunday morning, and people awaited her next show like a popular soap. Most of the people Zachary knew who watched the show didn’t paint and never intended to take it up. She was an institution. “Oh, yes,” Zachary agreed. “Of course, I know The Happy Artist. I didn’t put the names together.” “When it was in the news, they said who she was. They said it was The Happy Artist’s child.” “Sure. Of course,” Zachary agreed. He rubbed the dark stubble along his jaw. He should have gone home to shave and clean up before meeting with Molly. He looked like he’d been on a three-day stakeout. He had been on a three-day stakeout. “I’m sorry. I didn’t follow the story very closely. That’s good for you; it means I don’t have a lot of preconceived ideas about the case.” She looked at him for a minute, frowning. Reconsidering whether she really wanted to hire him? That wouldn’t hurt his feelings. “You were going to tell me about your daughter?” Zachary prompted. “I can understand how devastated she must be by her son’s death.” “No. I don’t think you can,” Molly said flatly. Zachary was taken aback. He shrugged and nodded, and waited for her to go on. “Isabella has a history of… mental health issues. She was the one supervising Declan when he disappeared, and the guilt has been overwhelming for her.” That made perfect sense. Zachary sipped at his coffee, which had cooled enough not to scald him. Molly went on. “I think… as horrible as it may sound… that it would be a relief for her if it turned out that Declan was taken from the yard, instead of just having wandered away.” “That may be, but how likely is that? Surely the police must have considered the possibility, and I can’t manufacture evidence for your daughter, even if it would ease her mind.” “No… I realize that. I’m not expecting you to do anything dishonest. Just to investigate it. Read over the police reports. Interview witnesses again. Just see… if there’s any possibility that there was… foul play. A third-party interfering, even if it was nothing malicious.” “I assume you know most of the details surrounding the case.” “Yes, of course.” “How likely do you think it is that the police missed something? Did they seem sloppy or like they didn’t care? Did you think there were signs of foul play that they brushed off?” “No.” Molly gave a little shrug. “They seemed perfectly competent.” Zachary was silent. It wouldn’t be difficult to read over the police reports and talk to the family. Was there any point? “The only thing is…” Molly trailed off. As impatient as Zachary was to get out of there, he knew it was no good pushing Molly to give it up any faster. She already knew she sounded crazy for asking him to reinvestigate a case where he wasn’t going to be able to turn up anything new. For no reason, other than that it might help her daughter to come to terms with the child’s death. He looked around the room. There were no pictures of Molly’s husband, even old ones. There was no sign she had raised Isabella or any other children there. There were several pictures of a couple with a little child. Declan and Isabella and whatever the father’s name was. There was one picture of Declan himself, occupying its own space, a little memorial to her lost grandson. There were no pictures of anyone else, so Zachary could only assume Isabella was an only child and Declan the only grandchild. “Declan was afraid of water.” Zachary turned his eyes back to her. He considered. It wasn’t totally inconceivable that a child afraid of the water would drown. He wouldn’t know how to swim. If he fell in, he would panic, flail, and swallow water, rather than staying calm enough to float. Molly wiped at a tear. “How afraid of the water was he?” Zachary asked. “He wouldn’t go near the water. He was terrified. He wouldn’t have gone to the pond by himself.” “How tall was he?” Molly gave a little shrug. “He was almost five years old. Three feet?” “How steep were the banks of the pond and what was the terrain and foliage like?” He knew he would have to look at it for himself. “I don’t know what you want to know… there wasn’t any shore to speak of. Just the pond. There were bulrushes. Cattails. Some trees. The ground is… uneven, but not hilly.” Zachary tried to visualize it. A child wouldn’t be able to see the pond as far away as an adult would because of his short stature. If his view were further screened by the plant life, the banks steep and crumbly, he might not be able to see it until he was right on top of it. Or in it. “It’s not a lot to go on,” he said. “The fact that he was afraid of water.” “I know.” Molly used both hands to wipe her eyes. “I know that.” She looked around the apartment, swallowing hard to get control of her emotions. “I just want the best for my baby. A parent always wants what’s best. Growing up… I wasn’t able to give her that. She didn’t have an easy life. I wonder if…” She didn’t have to finish the sentence this time. Zachary already knew what she was going to say. She wondered if that rough upbringing had caused Isabella’s mental fragility. Whether things would have turned out differently if she’d been able to provide a stable environment. Molly sniffled. “Do you have children, Mr.—Zachary?” Zachary felt that familiar pain in his chest. Like she’d plunged a knife into it. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. My marriage just recently ended. We didn’t have any children.” “Oh.” Her eyes searched his for the truth. Zachary looked away. “I’m sorry. I guess we all have our losses.” Although hers, the death of her grandson, was clearly more permanent than any relationship issues Zachary might have. In the end, he agreed to do the preliminaries. Get the police reports. Walk the area around the house and pond. Talk to the parents. He gave her his lowest hourly fee. She clearly couldn’t afford more. He wasn’t even sure she’d be able to pay on receipt of his invoice. He might have to allow her a payment plan, something he normally didn’t do, but something about the frail woman had gotten to him. He put in an appearance at the police station, requesting a copy of the information available to the public, and handing over Molly Hildebrandt’s request that he be provided as much information as possible for an independent evaluation. “You got a new case?” Bowman grunted as he tapped through a few computer screens, getting a feel for how many files there were on the Declan Bond accident investigation file and how much of it he would be able to provide to Zachary. “Yes,” Zachary agreed. Obviously. He didn’t encourage small talk; he really didn’t want Bowman to start asking personal questions. They weren’t friends, but they were friendly. Bowman had helped Zachary track down missing documents before. He knew the right people to ask for permission and the best way to ask. Bowman dug into his pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. He unwrapped a piece and popped it into his mouth, then offered one to Zachary as an afterthought. “No, I’m good.” Bowman chewed vigorously as he studied each screen. He was a middle-aged man, with a middle-age spread, his belly sagging over his belt. His hairline had started receding, and occasionally he put on a pair of glasses for a moment and then took them off again, jamming them into his breast pocket. “How’s Bridget?” he asked. Zachary swallowed. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the conversation. Bowman looked away from his screen and at Zachary’s face, eyebrows up. “She’s good. In remission.” “Good to hear.” Bowman looked back at his computer again. “Good to hear. It’s been a tough time for the two of you.” His eyes flicked back to Zachary, and he backtracked. “I mean it’s been tough for her. And for you.” “Yeah,” Zachary agreed. He waved away any further fumbling explanation from Bowman. “So, what have we got? On the Bond case?” “Right!” Bowman looked back at his screen. “I’ve got press releases and public statements for you. medical examiner’s report. The cop in charge of the file was Eugene. He likes red.” Zachary blinked at Bowman, more baffled than usual by his abbreviated language. “What?” “Eugene Taft. I know, it’s a preposterous name, but he’s never had a nickname that stuck. Eugene Taft.” “And he likes red.” “Wine,” Bowman said as if Zachary was dense. “He likes red wine. You know, if you want to help things along, have a better chance of getting a look at the rest of that file, the officers’ notes and all the background and interviews. If you have to apply some leverage.” “And for Eugene Taft, it’s red wine.” “Has to be red,” Bowman confirmed. “Okay.” Zachary looked at his watch. “Can you start that stuff printing for me? Is there anyone downstairs?” He knew he would have to run down to the basement to order a copy of the medical examiner’s report. Just one of those bureaucratic things. “Sure. Kenzie should be down there still.” Zachary paused. “Kenzie. Not Bradley?” “Kenzie,” Bowman confirmed. “She’s new.” “How new?” “I don’t know.” Bowman gave a heavy shrug. “How long since you were down there last? Less than that.” Zachary snorted and went down the hall to the elevator. As he waited for it, Joshua Campbell, an officer he’d worked with on an insurance fraud case several months previous, approached and hit the up button. He did a double-take, looking at Zachary. “Zach Goldman! How are you, man? Haven’t seen you around here lately.” “Good.” Zachary shook hands with him. Joshua’s hands were hard and rough like he’d grown up working on a farm instead of in the city. Zachary wondered what he did in his spare time that left them so rough and scarred. He wasn’t boxing after work; Zachary would have been able to tell that by his knuckles. “Hey, how’s Bridget doing? Did everything turn out okay…?” He trailed off and shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, great. She’s in remission.” “Oh, good. That’s great, Zach. Good to hear.” Zachary nodded politely. His elevator arrived with a ding and a flashing down indicator. Zachary sketched a quick goodbye to Joshua and jumped on. He was starting to regret agreeing to look into the Bond case.
~~~
PD Workman is a prolific writer who is obviously a well-known author who is read by many. I've found after reviewing books upon request, I have a tendency to enjoy reading a new writer who I've not read before. Perhaps it was the topic of the book. Perhaps it is because of how many in the world are being treated terribly by others... Or, perhaps, it is my own loss after being diagnosed with Job Burnout which has left me with a brain changed by that abuse... Or, just because I have known within and without my family of those who have, OCD, autism, brain damage, or some other mental problem that will affect that individual in some private way for the rest of their lives... Stats show that mental health problems has increased in the United States from about 20% up to over 30% based upon the specific analyses used to determine this type of information. Brain Fog is a self-diagnosis for many young people in marriages as they adjust to the new pressures never encountered before in their own lives... So, yes, I have greatly increased my awareness of mental distress, particularly in women...
On the other hand, I can remember far back in my younger life, when I was fascinated by songs, books or movies that were fictional accounts based upon some basis of truth... I tried to find the old movie that used Dvorak's famous song, Going Home, sung by an asylum inmate who was singing, hoping, that she and others would be going home...soon. Then I saw and was fascinated by the movie Sybil, again, dealing with what was called at that time, split personality...
“Acts of Caring and Other Heroics, Stories from the Leavesden Asylum, 1870 to 1995” by Martin T Brooks. This short independent film was written, produced and directed by Martin T Brooks, Founder of the Leavesden Hospital History Association and looks into the evolution of mental health care and treatment from the 1870s to the 1970s as told through the true-life stories of patients and doctors who worked and lived in the Leavesden Asylum/Hospital during those times. And askes the question “Are we doing any better in 2024”?
And, I enjoy the genre, psychological suspense or romantic psychological suspense, where some aspect of a psychological issue is embedded within the storyline. After reading a few of the lower-level ratings on Amazon for this book, and saw glimpses of what I found disturbing about this particular book and main character, so disconcerting. That, at that point, I decided to go ahead and share my thoughts rather than just giving it a "global" rating...
The book begins with the introduction of the main character, a PI named Zachary Goldman of Goldman Investigations. We see him involved with some routine PI cases, where his skill as a photographer is well used to provide his client with the proof he needs... He has a good reputation for this type of work and, readers, will find them enjoying the storyline of how he has worked the case, planning in advance, using his favorite tool, a GPS computerized system based on his laptop... In fact, I was impressed so much so that I would certainly understand why somebody would recommend him to a friend...
Chapter 2 introduces the client, Molly, who has received such a recommendation. First, let me point out that the death of her grandson, Declan Bond, is a reason for her contact. His death has already been investigated by the police and has been closed with a declaration of Accidental Death..."
Readers have no involvement with the deceased. We learn he was 8 years old and that's about it... Other than what we learn from Molly, there is very little mourning rituals, at least not at first. A child has died and quickly routine is established...
First, let me point out that both parents are diagnosed as having OCD-- Obsessive-compulsive Disorder. Another issue for me was that there was very little discussion presented by Molly or the parents of the boy who had died. Molly however, felt that her daughter was having an extremely excessive reaction to his death and wanted Zackary to go over the entire investigation and determine whether something had been missed. Molly wanted closure!
Interesting, however, there is very little--that is, None--what I would call normal family interaction of sharing their loss, remembering times of loving interaction with the lost one, etc. So that, again, readers are not privy to any familial interaction, other than as dictated by already established rules and schedules by the parents...
Well, except for his mother...
She almost immediately went out on a ritualistic journey of suffering. First, she had a large facial tatoo of Declan placed on her arm, noting to others that she could always merely look down and he would be with her... Then she did some research and starting using the cremains in various ways, such as within a ring which she would daily wear, in a necklace where she had both hair and cremains, and of course, had a modest area with her designated personal space where she could have his cremains and other personal items nearby... Our family went through some variety of this when a family member/son died. But it was by creating pictures which she distributed to all of us so that we wouldn't forget him... She told me that others wanted her to "get over" or "get back" to normal... I told her, she needed to do what she needed to do for as long as she needed to do it...
Yeah, I admit to bias against every single character in this book, most of all the main character--that is, how he was "created..."
Molly did have to beg Zachary to take her case. He finally decided that once he would accept it, it would be a minimal review of what he could get from the documentation of the investigation.
Somewhere along the line, however, we start learning about the background of the PI... If you guessed that he also had mental problems, well, you would be correct. In many ways, much worse than either of the parents, even though you might not immediately realize it as you read.
If wasn't long before a scripture reference, Physician, Heal Thyself..." came to mind...I wanted to see if there was an applicable use of that phrase and found: What does the Bible mean when it says "physician heal thyself"? The phrase “Physician heal thyself” (Luke 4:23) references the often forgotten truth that one must solve their own problems before attempting to fix the problems of others.
Yes! In fact, if you continue to read, with a discerning and open mind as opposed to just how you enjoy this new series character, like I did, you just may realize that this book/characters should never have been created as it was... The fact that the author chose to pit one person with mental problems against two people with mental problems related to a death of a child simply is abhorrent to contemplate...at least to me. Actually, much later in the book, Zachary tracks down the individual professional counselor with whom the mother had once been in therapy. That was about the only time that some type of logical reasoning was included in the entire book. The doctor had not been in contact with the mother for years but had sufficient knowledge of her condition at that time, to bring out a reference book by which he discussed the present events in a supposition type of discussion, based only on clinically used methods.
But, while this case was being investigated, all sorts of actions took place in the life of the PI, including death threats and two attempted murders which landed him in the hospital, homeless, and without any funds to replace what he had lost in the last attempt, which was a fire within the room he was sleeping in... Seriously, I felt as if every single thing that the author thought of was tossed in, thinking, that we would be dumb enough to accept such a plot! Gee, a flash comes to mind, is she a MAGA liar, trying to get us to believe all of these twists that have no basis for being used or accepted as part of a cogent--clear, logical, and convincing--plot? Or, was it that she simply didn't do sufficient research to comprehend the ramifications of the book as written.
Believe me when you throw in Zachary's interactions with the two females in his life, we have to conclude that the main character is also Obsessive-Compulsive and obviously a long-term resident of this disorder! At one point, he becomes so abusive with his interviews that he is practically screaming and shouting. Where was the controlled PI who had worked during his life to gain control of his limitations? Now, he was barely coherent sometime, saying one thing, while remembering something that actually did happen but he didn't want to accept???!!!
While the ending of the book did discover that Declan had been murdered, what did we learn as the book closes? Me, I decided to simply cross this writer off my list for any future books... At this point in America, liars, manipulators, and just plain stupid actions are not what we need to find in our literary choices...
And, let me just add, I may have emotional issues after brain changes from job burnout, but I am totally cognizant of what I do on a daily basis. There is no way that anybody with any mental concerns should ever have been placed in such a situation as was described in this book. The two individuals who were suspects were bad enough as described by the author. To flagrantly use mental illness as was done in this book can only lead to one conclusion... If this is what we are writing about in the year 2025, how far back have some individuals gone in their thinking and logic skills!? I read the entire book and immediately turned to another to get my mind away from the disgust I felt as the lives of mentally impaired individuals were used purely for the shock effect!
What is discrimination against mentally disabled called?
Ableism is the discrimination of and social prejudice against people with disabilities based on the belief that typical abilities are superior. At its heart, ableism is rooted in the assumption that disabled people require 'fixing' and defines people by their disability.
GABixlerReviews
No comments:
Post a Comment