by JM Gulvin
Quarrie nodded.
‘You told me that wasn’t possible.’
‘It isn’t, not unless they knew how to open that panel.’
Together they went downstairs to the study where Isaac sat in his father’s chair. His expression haunted, he studied the confines of the room then swivelled the chair all the way around. For a moment he stared at Quarrie then turned back to the wall where he opened the panel.
‘That is how they got in,’ he said. ‘And they didn’t need to have a gun because there were plenty already here. Nobody came knocking on the door, John Q. Nobody forced Dad down the stairs.’
Closing the panel again he cast a glance towards the study door. ‘There.’ He pointed. ‘He was standing behind the door. He had the twenty-two from the cabinet and Dad didn’t know he was there. He came down to do some paperwork or something and he didn’t turn on the overhead light. He hated that light, always said it was way too bright, couldn’t figure why he ever put it in.’ Reaching across the desk he switched on the lamp. ‘He wouldn’t have known that anyone was there, not till he was sat right here.’
He got to his feet and hovered for a second then paced the width of the room. Features taut, he opened the door to the basement passage and stood in the shadows it cast. ‘He was right here.’ Again he pointed. ‘Dad was at the desk and he stepped out from behind the door.’ Crossing the floor once more he walked around the desk and paused by the side of the chair. Briefly he looked at Quarrie. Then he formed the shape of a pistol with his thumb and index finger and pointed at the empty chair.
Quarrie considered him carefully. ‘Isaac,’ he said. ‘What’re you telling me?’
He saw Isaac swallow. His saw his Adam’s apple working up and down.
‘Ishmael,’ Isaac said. ‘It was my brother with the gun down here.’
Twenty-seven
A couple of hours later they turned off Fairfield Avenue in Shreveport, Louisiana, and drove up to the checkered barrier ahead of the hospital gates. In the passenger seat Isaac had half a smile on his face.
‘Man,’ he said, ‘that didn’t take hardly any time at all.’
Quarrie winked at him. ‘Perk of the job, that red light. Means nobody’s going to pull you over and under that hood is a 425. Pious hooked her up to a supercharger and replaced the old tailpipes with 2.5s. Get a kick every time I drive her, bud. Be a liar if I to said otherwise.’
Despite being out of state, he carried his badge on his jacket and Isaac still wore his uniform. A young guard with a crew cut waved them into the parking lot and the two men got out of the car. They had to wait for the hospital Jeep to come down from the main building and pick them up because patients were roaming the grounds.
Inside the building they were greeted by an orderly who ushered them into an elevator. On the third floor they found another orderly who walked them to Dr Beale’s office where his secretary greeted them with a slightly nervous expression on her face. She came around from behind her desk and considered Isaac first and then Quarrie.
‘Gentlemen, I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘Somebody should’ve told you at the gate. Dr Beale isn’t here.’
Quarrie furrowed his brow. ‘Probably we should’ve called ahead of time, mam. I guess we figured he’d be back.’
‘Well, I’m afraid he’s not.’ In her forties with short bobbed hair, the secretary shook her head. ‘The fact is I don’t know where he is. I wasn’t here when he left and he didn’t write me a note. Normally he writes a note but he didn’t leave one this time so I can’t tell you when he’ll be back.’
Quarrie nodded. ‘This is Isaac Bowen, mam. He’s next of kin to Ishmael Bowen who was a patient of Dr Beale’s at Trinity Hospital. I’m not sure if Dr Beale mentioned Ishmael at all. Would you know anything about him?’
Gesturing for them to take a seat, the secretary went back to her desk. ‘I don’t know anything about any of the patients I’m afraid, though I remember Mr Bowen from the other day.’
Isaac sat forward. ‘After I left here Dr Beale came to my father’s house.’
‘Did he? He never said. But then he doesn’t always tell me where he’s going and that’s due to patient confidentiality. Not all his patients are in sanatoriums, he has people he treats in their homes.’
‘Ms Barker,’ Quarrie said, glancing at the name plate on her desk, ‘this isn’t actually a sanatorium as such, is it? Technically, I mean: it’s an asylum for the criminally insane.’
The secretary looked a little puzzled.
‘As was Trinity,’ Quarrie went on. ‘A secure facility. You know about Trinity I imagine, back in Texas?’
‘Of course I know about Trinity.’ The quizzical expression hadn’t left her face. ‘As you say, it was one of the other hospitals where Dr Beale’s expertise was required.’
‘So what exactly is his expertise?’
‘Well, he’s a psychiatrist; he helps people with mental conditions.’
‘I understand that, mam, but what kind of conditions are we talking about?’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t explain that to you. I’m not a doctor, Sergeant. You’d have to ask him.’
‘We’d like to,’ he said. ‘But he’s not here and you can’t tell us when he’ll be back.’
She lifted her shoulders then a little helplessly. ‘I don’t know what else I can say. I wish I could tell you where he is because it’s not just you who wants to know, it’s the trustees. Normally he checks in every day but so far he hasn’t been in touch.’
Quarrie was holding her gaze. ‘And you have no idea where he might’ve gone?’
‘No sir, it’s as I already said.’
Quarrie got to his feet. ‘Ms Barker,’ he said, ‘it’s the fire at Trinity we want to talk about. I spoke to the caretaker down there and he told me that some members of staff were relocated here to Bellevue as well as a few of the patients.’
‘That’s correct,’ she said. ‘But, I can’t disclose anything about any patient. Even if I knew anything, I’m only a secretary.’
‘I get that, mam,’ Quarrie said. ‘But what about the staff? How many came up here? If we can’t speak to Dr Beale, maybe we could speak to one of them?’
Taking off her glasses now the secretary wiped them on a tissue she plucked from a box on her desk. ‘Once more I have to apologize,’ she said. ‘But only two members of staff were actually relocated, a nurse and an orderly, and neither of them are here.’
‘Not here?’ Quarrie said. ‘Can you tell us where they are?’
‘Nurse McClain called in sick this morning and Mr Briers …’ She faltered. ‘Mr Briers – well it’s a fact his car is in the parking lot but he’s not been seen for a couple of days.’
Quarrie exchanged a glance with Isaac and then he turned back to the secretary. She was looking really flustered now, shifting awkwardly in the seat.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘This is really nothing to do with me. Dr Beale is in charge of this hospital and—’
‘That’s all right, Ms Barker. Don’t worry.’ Getting to his feet Quarrie crossed to the window where he looked the length of the narrow road. ‘You say the orderly’s car is here but he didn’t show up for work.’
‘That’s right; he’s not been seen in a couple of days.’ Leaving her desk, she came over to the window. ‘His car isn’t down there,’ she said. ‘That parking lot is only for the doctors, visitors and trustees. There’s another one across the way.’ She pointed beyond the dividing wall and Quarrie could see women on their own or in small groups, wearing the same loose pajamas as their male counterparts. ‘The other side of the perimeter wall,’ Ms Barker explained, ‘there’s a parking lot for the staff that’s accessed from Ockley Drive.’
Five minutes later Quarrie and Isaac were pacing a pathway through the grounds where women were gathered and the sight of two strangers caused quite a stir. En masse they tried to crowd around them but the orderlies ushered them away. Isaac walked alongside Quarrie with an orderly in front a
nd another behind. The age of the women seemed to range from those in their twenties with sad faces and even sadder eyes to well beyond middle age.
Quarrie noticed one woman walking by herself. She had an orderly right behind her, mirroring her steps as she made her way across the lawn. Her downcast face was skeletal, lips pinched; hair so thin he could see her scalp like a ball of wax. She was pushing a pre-war metal baby stroller, and every time she passed another patient she would cast a savage glance their way.
The orderlies led them through the outside gate and into a copse of poplar trees. They were younger men and neither of them seemed to know a great deal about Briers.
‘He came over from Texas though, right?’ Quarrie asked as they approached the parking lot.
‘Yes, sir,’ the first orderly said. ‘Along with Nancy McClain.’
‘The nurse off sick right now?’
‘Is she?’ the man glanced back at him. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘So what’s Briers like?’
The orderly shook his shoulders. ‘We didn’t see him much. Big guy, real meaty – which helps when you’re doing this job. Looked after the male patients mostly, the only time we’d see him on our side of the fence was when they sent him over to walk Miss Annie.’
‘Who’s Miss Annie?’ Isaac asked.
‘That old crone you saw just now pushing the stroller.’ The orderly glanced at him. ‘Normally it would be Briers watching her. She came up from Trinity at the same time he did. Pushes a doll around in that stroller, and the way she is, you’d think it was a regular baby.’
Hand on his arm Quarrie made him pause. ‘That woman we saw on the path just now?’
The orderly nodded. ‘She’s one of the meanest we’ve ever had here. Don’t know much about her but she’s been in isolation ever since she arrived.’ Looking from Quarrie to Isaac he gestured. ‘She’s only just now been allowed outside. For the first few weeks she was kept locked up in her room.’ He glanced back the way they had come. ‘You saw that orderly walking right behind her? Well, if he was here right now that’d be Charlie Briers. It’s the only way Miss Annie is allowed outside, and she’s not allowed to mix with the other patients, she has to keep well away. She might be skin and bone but one wrong word and she’ll kill you.’ He glanced to his compatriot for support. ‘Or at least that’s what they say.’
The orderlies led them to the parking lot and a 1961 Chrysler with an oval-shaped windshield and squared-off steering wheel. Quarrie walked all the way around the vehicle, studying the door locks, the trunk lid and hood. Nothing struck him as odd though, and he turned his attention to the parking lot itself where a mishmash of tire treads and various different footprints broke up the dust.
Taking his pocket knife he jacked the lock on the trunk lid. There was nothing in there however but an aged-looking tire and a pile of old newspapers.
The trunk lid fastened again, they walked back to the perimeter wall, but halfway along the path Quarrie stopped. Something caught his eye, a patch of dirt off to his left, a piece of open ground at the bole of a tree. He moved closer and Isaac made to follow, but Quarrie lifted a hand indicating for him to stay where he was. A partial print, no heel, just the ball of the foot, but it was flatter than it should be. He recognized the pattern on the sole and moved around to the other side of the tree. There he spotted a second print, full this time; the earth much softer, he could see a nick in the heel.
Back on the path he exchanged a glance with Isaac and spoke to the orderlies.
‘Boys,’ he said, ‘as soon as you get to a telephone I want you call the police. Not the city but the state. Tell them your orderly has been abducted.’ He turned to Isaac. ‘He’s wearing a pair of jungle boots, Isaac, they—’
‘I know the boot.’ Isaac was staring at the bole of the tree. ‘I’ve worn it plenty. Steel shank in the sole on account of the sharpened bamboo.’
Upstairs in the office Quarrie spoke to Beale’s secretary. ‘Ms Barker,’ he said, ‘the Louisiana State Police are on their way up here and they’re going to want to speak to everyone who came into contact with Mr Briers. I’d like to speak to those people myself, but I don’t have the jurisdiction. This nurse, though – the one you talked about earlier, the one from Trinity?’
‘Nurse McClain,’ she said. ‘Nancy.’
‘Nancy, right. Mam, jurisdiction or not, I really do need to speak to her.’
‘She’s off sick, Sergeant. I already told you.’
‘Did she know about Briers?’
‘Of course. She was the one who reported it. She told Dr Beale and he had me call Mr Briers at home.’
Sitting on the edge of the desk Quarrie smiled at her. ‘Ms Barker,’ he said, ‘I’m reaching out here because I think Mr Briers has been abducted, and if Nancy called in sick it’s because she’s very afraid. I believe she’s hiding from the man who abducted Briers and I can’t afford to wait for the state police. I need to get to her now. I know all about policy and how you’re supposed to act and everything, but you have to tell me where Nancy lives.’
She lived in the suburbs well away from the hospital, an apartment block overlooking the highway as it trailed south from the city. There was no answer at her door when they knocked and Isaac considered Quarrie as they stood in the silent hallway.
‘We could break it down,’ he suggested.
‘We could.’ Quarrie knocked again and still there was no answer. ‘I’ve been known to do that before, but I reckon there’s another way.’
He waited on the stairs while Isaac went back to the lobby and the building manager’s office. Five minutes later he stepped out of the elevator with the manager and Quarrie watched them walk the hallway through the glass panel in the door.
‘Just back from over there then, are you?’ The manager looked old enough to be a veteran. ‘Good to see you in uniform, son. Landed on Omaha Beach myself and I can’t be doing with how things are. This is America, for Christ’s sake. Those kids waving placards on the street right now, they ought to be ashamed of themselves, I swear.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Isaac nodded.
Quarrie looked on as the manager hunted down a pass key and fit it in the lock. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘when your mom gets home no doubt she’ll be happy to see you.’ Patting Isaac on the back he left him in the open doorway.
There was no sign of Nancy McClain. A bedroom and bathroom, a living room with a kitchenette, there was no evidence of an occupant at all. The closet in the bedroom was empty, hangers on the floor, hangers on the rail and the doors standing wide. The drawers in the bureau had been pulled out and emptied. The bed was unmade; no clothes, no jewellery, and nothing in the bathroom either. A moonlight flit, Quarrie stood there with his thumb hooked in his belt and considered how swiftly the place seemed to have been vacated.
He told Isaac he was putting him on a train. By the end of the day he was pale in the face, dark circles crawling beneath his eyes; he looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.
‘I’m going to take this from here on out,’ Quarrie said as they walked back to the car. ‘I’ll need you when Dr Beale shows up though, so I’ll call you at the house later on.’
They split a pitcher in the station bar. Perched on a pair of stools they drank beer and Quarrie smoked a cigarette.
‘I really am sorry about all this,’ he said. ‘Real shitty how you came home to find what you did and how things have turned out since.’
Isaac did not say anything. He sat there toying with his glass. ‘I’m OK,’ he muttered finally. ‘What matters now is that we find Ishmael. If he’s been killing people, then any other cop that comes up on him will be so twitchy they’ll probably just shoot.’
‘We’ll find him,’ Quarrie stated. ‘We’ll get there before anybody else does, and nobody is going to shoot him. But listen to me: don’t start beating up on yourself, OK? Don’t start asking what you could’ve done different because the answer is nothing. When something like this goes down people start in on the
mselves with all kinds of questions they could never begin to try and answer. None of that does any good. You understand, Isaac? It ain’t your fault how your brother turned out and that’s something you have to remember.’
‘But how come he did?’ Isaac looked sideways at him. ‘Turn out like this, I mean. I don’t get it. I don’t understand it at all.’ Lifting a palm he let it fall. ‘When we were kids he wasn’t like that. He … Me and him … What the hell am I going on about that for? We’re all grown up now. We’re not kids anymore.’
‘Like I said,’ Quarrie looked squarely at him, ‘don’t be beating up on yourself. It ain’t going to do any good.’
Finishing his beer Isaac poured another half-glass. He toyed with it. He seemed to study the amber liquid. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you. My mom and all – did you come up with anything on where she might be? I know what I said before, but now we got this going on I wouldn’t mind talking to her, if she’ll talk to me.’
Twenty-eight
Seeing him onto the train Quarrie went back to his car. Behind the wheel he picked up the radio and put a call in to the state police to see if there was any news on the missing orderly. They told him they had nothing so far, but mentioned a newspaper vendor who’d been found locked in his news stand with a fractured skull.
Quarrie left the station and headed south. Something was bugging him, and he took the back roads to Funston and Logansport before crossing into Texas where the Sabine River formed the neck of the lake. From there it was a short hop to Joaquin and he was into the woods again.
He drove with darkness swallowing the trees. He drove with the heel of his hand on top of the wheel and all manner of thoughts picking at him. No wind tonight, no rain. Above the trees a crescent moon cast a little light as he made the dirt road and narrow causeway. Beyond the iron gates the grounds took shape and the main building loomed just ahead. Coming to a halt thirty feet from the steps he shut off the engine. It wasn’t cold tonight, but as he climbed out of the car a shiver worked his bones just the same. For a moment he stared at the grisly facade where scorch marks tainted the rotting wood. He considered the bank of darkness where the doors had been. He considered the pillars, the broken glass and vertical bars that split them like piano keys. He looked up to where the roof was all but gone and from there to the second-floor windows.
