“So you and Pierce never talked about the case directly?”

“That’s right.”

I said nothing.

She said, “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but that’s what we were like. Close as two people can be, but there were sides to each of us that we didn’t get into. I realize it’s not fashionable to hold on to privacy, anymore. Everyone talks about everything to everyone else. But that’s phony, isn’t it? Everyone’s got secret parts of their mind, Pierce and I were just honest about admitting it. And Dr. Harrison said if that’s the way we really wanted it, that was our choice.”

So Bert had tried to edge husband and wife toward more openness, and they’d resisted.

Marge Schwinn said, “It was the same with Pierce’s drug problem. He was too proud to expose himself to me, so he used Dr. Harrison as a go-between. We were content with that. It kept things pleasant and positive between us.”

“Did you ever ask Dr. Harrison about the unsolved murder?”

Strong headshake. “I didn’t want to know. I figured for it to plague Pierce it had to be really bad.”

“Did the nightmares ever clear up?”

“After Pierce started seeing Dr. Harrison regularly again, they faded to maybe two, three times a month. Also, Pierce’s photography hobby seemed to help, got him out of the house, got him some fresh air.”

“Was that Dr. Harrison’s idea?”

She smiled. “Yes, he bought Pierce the camera, insisted on paying for it. He does that. Gives people things. There was a gal used to live in town, Marian Purveyance, ran the Celestial Café before Aimee Baker took charge of it. Marian came down with a muscle disease that wasted her away, and Dr. Harrison was her main comfort. I used to visit Marian during her final days, and she told me Dr. Harrison decided she needed a dog for companionship. But Marian was in no physical state to take care of a dog, so Dr. Harrison found one for her—an old, half-lame retriever from the shelter that he kept at his house, fed, and bathed. He brought it over to Marian’s for a few hours each day. That sweet old dog used to stretch out on Marian’s bed, and Marian would lie there stroking it. Toward the end, Marian’s fingers wouldn’t work, and the dog must’ve known, because it rolled over right next to Marian and put its paw on Marian’s hand so she’d have something to touch. Marian died with that old dog next to her, and a few weeks later, the dog passed on.”