“We do, Doctor.”
“I mean that would seem to be a logical point of departure, no?” said Batchelor. “As far as anyone else, I have no idea.”
“What about Whitney’s former boyfriends.”
“Hmm,” said Rolf Batchelor. “Can’t say I’m aware of any. Then again, when Whitney was of dating age, I was here working and doing a lot of travel.”
“When’s the last time you and Whitney spoke?”
“Probably…a couple of years before she died? She emailed me Jarrod’s birth announcement, I emailed her back and sent her a baby gift. Monogrammed blanket, my wife picked it out. Whitney called to thank me and we chatted but not for very long. Whitney wasn’t one for small talk.”
“We’ve heard she wasn’t one for talk, period.”
“I suppose you could say that, Lieutenant. But it really does take all types.”
“Agreed, sir. We’re just trying to find out who might’ve resented her.”
“So you’ve cleared Jarrod’s father.”
“It’s an ongoing investigation. What did Whitney tell you about Jarrod’s father?”
“Nothing,” said Rolf Batchelor. “The only reason I know about him is through Donna. I know this probably sounds strange, my considering Whitney my sister but having so little contact with her. Part of that was me. Living my own life, working. But part of it was Whitney’s choice.”
“She refused contact?”
“Like you said, she wasn’t one for conversation. I don’t want to stigmatize her and I’m sure not qualified to get psychological, but you do take some psychiatry in med school and I remember coming across this term and thinking that sounds like Whitney.”
“What term was that, Doctor?”
“Schizoid personality type,” said Batchelor. “It sounds worse than it is. Not schizophrenic or anything like that. And maybe it’s just some jargon label the shrinks thought up for really shy people. Like I said, it takes all types. Silicon Valley’s full of people like Whitney and they’re changing the world.”
His voice had risen. Armor-plated by defensiveness.
Milo said nothing.
Batchelor said, “Do I wish we could’ve stayed in touch more? Very much so. I’m not blaming it on Whitney, I had my own life…. Things get away from you.”
Lowered volume. Faltering. Cracks in the armor.
“They sure do, Doctor. So no one you can think of who’d resent Whitney?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Okay, thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d like to run some names by you. Please tell me if they mean anything to you.”
“Sure.”
“Gerald Boykins.”
“Nope.”
“Jamarcus Parmenter.”
“Nope.”
“Paul O’Brien.”
“I’ve got a colleague by that name. Emeritus professor of endodontics. He’s like eighty-eight years old so I’m assuming he’s not who you’re referring to.”
