audition, but it was canceled, so I went straight home. And when I opened the door, I found Carole packing her things. I couldnât believe it when she told me that she was leaving. She wanted a divorce.â
âAnd how did you feel about that?â
âI was shocked. And hurt. Especially when I saw the note, sheâd written. It was clear sheâd been planning on leaving without even talking to me.â
âDid that make you angry?â
Michael winced, but he knew he had to tell the truth. âYes, I thought I deserved better than that, but I tried not to let my anger get in the way. I told her that I loved her, that I wanted to try to work things out. I even suggested we go to a marriage counselor for help, but she wouldnât listen. She just kept packing things in boxes and repeating that our marriage was over and I had to accept it.â
âShe wouldnât tell you why she was leaving?â
âNo. She said it was too late to even discuss it. The whole thing was so frustrating!â
Dr. Bowman leaned forward. âAnd was that when you killed her?â
âNo!â Michael gripped the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. âI . . . we had a fight, a terrible fight. And I left.â
âDr. Bowman?â The social worker spoke up again. âThe patient is obviously agitated, and I feel we must have some compassion for . . .â Her voice trailed off as Dr. Bowman banged his fist on the table.
âIâm warning you, Mrs. Gray. Iâm the chairman of this board, and I have the power to evict you from this proceeding. Iâm sure Michael knows that no one in this room, including me, wants to cause him any unnecessary pain. Isnât that right, Michael?â
âYes, Dr. Bowman.â
âYouâre doing fine, Michael. Now take a deep breath, relax, and tell me where you went when you left the apartment.â
âI went to a bar, Barneyâs Beanery, in West Hollywood. I was hoping to run into some of my friends. I needed someone to talk to, someone to tell me what to do.â
âOf course you did. And were your friends there?â
âNo, I sat there for a couple of hours, but no one I knew came in, so I left.â
âAnd that was when you went back to kill your wife?â
This was the time Dr. Bowman wanted him to break down, to admit heâd killed Carole. But he hadnât! He knew he hadnât! It was Hellerâs Catch Twenty-Two . If he lied and said, heâd gone back to the apartment to murder Carole in a fit of passion. Dr. Bowman would pat him on the back for accepting reality and release him. Heâd said as much in a staff meeting, and Jack had heard about it through the hospital grapevine. There were no secrets from orderlies. But if Michael told the truth and swore that he hadnât killed Carole. Dr. Bowman would decide he was still denying and keep him locked up with the caged clock forever.
Dr. Bowman was speaking again. Michael forced himself to listen.
â. . . your own good, Michael. I want to help you, but my hands are tied if you refuse to cooperate. Itâs really quite simple. All you have to do is tell me precisely how you killed your wife.â
Michael opened his mouth to play the game. It was the only way. Then he saw how Dr. Bowman was leaning forward in rapt fascination. His eyes were unblinking, and he seemed to be having some trouble breathing. The rasping sound of the air passing between his colorless lips reminded Michael of something in his past, something ugly.
It took a moment, but then he started to remember. Aunt Alice had taken them to a county fair. While sheâd gone through the exhibit buildings, theyâd explored the midway. Stan had gone off to buy them some cotton candy, and Michael had waited by the brightly colored posters advertising the wonders inside the tents. Heâd stared at the pictures of the two-headed snake in a bottle, the