Dr. Henry Lewis was a respected psychologist and consultant for the New York State Police; often called in to dissect the mindset and motives of some of the worst suspects to find themselves in prison. After decades on the job he was used to interviewing and assessing the most outlandish and troubled suspects for their pre-trial psychological evaluations. A few years ago, he had the pleasure of assessing an interesting prisoner, a golf pro at the local country club, who thought his dog was really Satan and could speak to him in his dreams. The man insisted that the devil coerced him into murdering his own brother with a gold trophy. It was late on a Thursday afternoon when he sat down with a young woman who was convicted of fatally striking a pedestrian with her car, claiming that she knew that he would someday become a serial killer, and that she should be instead be praised for saving future lives instead of facing trial for second-degree murder and vehicular homicide.
A petite blonde sat handcuffed to a flimsy chair with ankle chains in the mental hospital's "high risk" ward. She had tried to escape from the orderlies multiple times and was under heavy sedation for the assessment. It was the last one of the day, and Henry was hoping to make it quick so he could get on the road for the two hour drive home. They had gotten through the basic questions, and he got to the point when he would administer the Rorschach test and she was staring blankly at the inkblots while mumbling under her breath.
"Shelby, I need an answer for this one...what do you see?" the doctor asked while holding up a splattered black and white inkblot that vaguely looked like two people facing one another.
"Heh," the woman chuckled and peered at him through her greasy hair, "I see your wife and another man."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, she is with her handsome tennis coach in his condo. She will tell you that she was getting a manicure, but she was really getting it on with him," Shelby slurred under the grip of the powerful drugs, "if she gets interrupted she'll lie and distract you by offering to pick up your favorite meal from that restaurant near your house that you love so much."
Henry ignored her ranting and had the orderlies take her away. He thought about what the madwoman said, and tried to resist the itching urge, but he texted his wife to ask how her day was.
She replied quickly. A little too quickly.
Hi honey! I'm just running late getting my nails done. Would you like me to pick up some Bún bò Huế from Dao's on the way home?
