Dr. Max Hastings
AFTER
Dr. Jones sits opposite me, crossed-legged, hands folded, resting on the table. “Can you tell me what a typical day was like for you? Before?”
I think about her question for several beats before offering a response. She looks tired today. It appears as though it’s taken a lot for her to get herself here.
“On a weekday or a weekend?”
“You usually met Mrs. Dunaway during the week. That would be a fair assessment, wouldn’t it?”
“Typically.”
“Did you ever meet on a weekend?”
“Maybe once—twice tops. It was difficult to book the Belmond then.”
“But you could have met somewhere else.”
“I preferred the Belmond. I think Laurel did as well.”
“So you consider yourself a creature of habit then, Dr. Hastings?”
“I have an affinity for efficiency.”
She looks at me dire
