by catt dahman
“You aren’t here to cure?”
“Oh, no. Those here are quite hopeless and often remanded to our care for many years or life for their crimes. These people are among the sickest one can imagine. We keep them comfortable, treat the symptoms, study them, and provide a …let’s say a safe place because their families either do not or cannot handle them any longer. Sheriff McLendon, there is simply no other place for these souls except prison where they would never survive. They are unwanted. They are not responsible and not well enough mentally to provide a legal defense for their actions, and to send them to a prison is a cruel treatment.”
Virgil studied the tidy desk: lack of personal items such as pictures or little familiar knick-knacks and noted there was a cool, impersonal feel to the room. It was a business place and not a home even if the doctor were here a lot. Yet the desk was a fine antique, and the chairs comfortable and upholstered in expensive navy brocade; the modern art on the walls was vividly colored, abstract, and somehow interesting. Swirls of lime green, dark blue, and deep, forest green competed with areas of black and white. This was a room where one felt that no one already owned the area; a person could forget it was an asylum.
“What else should I explain?” Dr. Kenshaw asked.
Virgil sighed and replied, “When we met the other day and I agreed to take this case as a favor to Special Agent Lord, I made some odd requests as to how I wanted to deal with this so that it fit my methods. I prefer to know nothing other than what I ask. I will ask specific questions in the next few days and want complete answers, but I prefer to see what questions I develop as I look around. That may be odd….”
“It begins with a blank canvas. You will fill it in. I think we work that way as well, Mr. McLendon.”
“And everyone is aware?”
“Yes, I have made sure the staff is cognizant and that everything is in place. I have to admit I am mystified by some of your requests as they seem counter-productive, but I am not the investigator, am I?” he chuckled. “I understand, however, that you prefer to come into a case with little preconceived ideas or information. Too much information might cause you to follow false trails.”
“Exactly. As we go and I become aware of certain issues, I will ask you or the others to explain certain things because I have no experience with mental illness other than having been a part of their arrest or death.”
“I am surprised you don’t want files.”
“I know there is privacy involved, and besides, I want to hear them talk, just as you have. I’ll ask for some later, I’m sure,” he said and then paused, “and Vivian?”
“She’s all set. She’s a lovely woman as you are certainly aware: bright and cheerful. I hope having her here proves helpful. To me, it’s an odd request, but we are here to cooperate.”
“Yes, she is very bright. She can possibly hear something important or see something while pretending to be a patient. Now, I would like to meet the rest of the staff I will be working with closely.”
Dr. Kenshaw called out, and Donte must have been waiting just outside the heavy door because it opened immediately. He beamed a smile at Virgil, “Hello again, sir.”
“Donte Jefferson: head orderly, fully competent, dependable and calm, and as you can see, physically able to handle any situation. If you need any help, of any sort, call upon him. I fully trust him.”
“I live in staff quarters and work a lot, sir. If you need me, I will be glad to help.”
“Thank you,” Virgil said, “Mr. Jefferson has already proven to be a valuable person as he gave me an immediate feel for this place. If this were a bad institution, I am sure it would have shown on his face, but he’s very pleased to work here.”
“I am, and I’m the savory part,” he said as he winked.
“Thank you, Donte,” Kenshaw said with a raised eye brow.
Donte nodded and retreated.
Two nurses came to the doorway, hardly crossing the threshold. One had hair that escaped her ponytail, a few wrinkles in her uniform, and a small run in her stockings; she was Annabeth Curtis. Kenshaw said she was patient, quick-acting, and hard-working. She was younger than most of the other staff, but Kenshaw said her grades were at the top of her class, and she was a quick study in all she did. She smiled, “Forgive my appearance, but we just finished a softball game, and I was pitcher.”
“A game with the patients?”
Kenshaw added, “It was a fabulous idea on her part to allow some competition and team building. The ones participating have done exceedingly well with her program.”
“No arguments? Fights?”
“None so far. We have a heated pool downstairs, and we do a lot there as well. Dr. Kenshaw encourages patients to stay active and work out aggressions with physical activities.”
“That sounds good,” Virgil replied.
The other nurse, opposite in looks, was Betty Brighton who wore a starched uniform with her hair slicked back and her face was free of cosmetics, walked with a stiff posture. Kenshaw said she was capable, meticulous, and careful about rules and regulations.
“I am not quite the drill sergeant, sir, but I do like an orderly ward. I abide no bickering on my watch,” she said very properly but also winked, softening her remark. Vigil thought patients must feel very safe with her watching over them.
“I bet you are the bad cop in relation to Miss Curtis as the good cop?”
“Very astute, Officer McLendon. I admit there are times I want to laugh and let things go, but in my role, if I am tough and Annabeth gives in, then there is an order, and we can use that. Once Annabeth told patients not to dare tell me that she was hosting a juice party. We had been at our wit’s end to find a way to promote more juice and less coffee here. It worked like a charm, and to this day, they think they’re pulling one over on me; the vitamin C intake has more than tripled.”
“That’s clever.”
“The nurses use that for many events to benefit patients, and once Nurse Brighton had all the patients help neaten their rooms, claiming that would drive Nurse Curtis mad to see such order. As planned, Nurse Curtis raved and exclaimed she was shocked…put on a big show…and all the patients were happy, the rooms were clean, and another nice day passed,” Kenshaw said.
“Thank you, ladies. It’s nice to meet you,” Virgil said.
Both left, and Virgil cocked a raised eyebrow at Kenshaw.
The doctor waved his hand in the air and said, “I realize that some of what you shall find is slightly unorthodox, but until this…unfortunate business, Fordham had been a premier institution with rave reviews and consistent respect. Like you, we may have some oddities in methods and mannerisms, but I assure you the two nurses you have just met, while seemingly opposites, are the finest nurses I have ever worked with. You shall find them invaluable in your investigation. Their methods have improved our positives by ten fold.”
Virgil gulped. That sounded almost like a rehearsed speech, and yet his gut told him the doctor was being honest although a bit callous in calling three murders an unfortunate business. He made a note to himself that he would have to steel himself because while this was new and frightening to him, it was usual to the staff. They could not work if they were overly emotional. It was amazing that everything was still running in light of the murders.
“Come in,” Kenshaw called.
Alfred Becket came in and shook hands with Virgil. He was a doctor of psychiatry and thus was able to prescribe medication; he was not the stuffy type that Virgil expected. Al Becket was rosy cheeked, smiled broadly, and seemed enthusiastic. “Anything I can do, please tell me. I am anxious to have a solution to this. I would say welcome, but isn’t that funny to welcome someone to a nut house?”
Virgil laughed, and to his surprise, Kenshaw chuckled again. “Al is our big draw here. Every patient adores him and thinks he is a movie star. Families trust him fully and with good reason since he is a brilliant doctor and the source of some of our more irregular methods…methods that see
m to benefit the patients immensely. He and the two nurses you met are far more clever than I am. They are what we strive for.”
“I met Vivian. Lovely woman. Can we keep her here to raise the sanity level, Virgil?”
Virgil laughed again and spoke, “I don’t think we can do that, but she will be pleased to know you think she is sane.” He liked Becket at once. “She has asked herself if she is sane many times since marrying me.”
The men laughed.
Becket cocked his head and asked, “She’s a deputy in your town, I understand, and a few months ago, she faced off against four intruders in your home? She was injured?”
“My God! Four intruders?” Kenshaw exclaimed.
“Yes, she was injured, and she is a deputy, the second female deputy in our town. She had a concussion and broken fingers, a broken rib, and various cuts, but she managed to take out three of the men and save our adopted daughter, her brother, and her sister-in-law.”
“That’s fantastic that she maintained her wits,” Kenshaw said.
“Vivian is an amazingly strong woman, cunning, and fearless. The four men were under the influence of poisoned water, and they were armed and set to kill everyone in the house.”
“Poisoned water?”
“You should get the FBI’s report from Special Agent Lord. The water well contained chemicals found naturally that, when combined, caused male aggressions, obsessive-controlling behavior, and delusions. I received very little poison since I drank a lot of soda, but what water I did drink gave me headaches, and I was nervous and anxious constantly. It was a lark that we found out what was causing the problems.”
“I want to read that. Fascinating,” Kenshaw added.
“Please do.”
“She faced them alone?” Becket asked.
“Her brother was also poisoned by the water, her sister-in-law was pregnant and with no law training, and our daughter was a young child. Vivian alone had to deal with four rough, strong men, and she did it. Mainly, she used her brain, but she did have to shoot as well.”
“Impressive. She’s strong. She may have some residual anxiety, and we may work on that since she’s here anyway, if you and she agree,” Becket said, “I know…I am always trying, but I like Vivian a lot. She’s a fresh, good person.”
Virgil felt his chest tighten. “If she wants to, then that’s her choice. I don’t want her to be stressed out. It was a very traumatic encounter, actually. She had to kill those men. I am new to having to take lives, too; it’s not a happy time even if the culprit deserves the justice meted out.”
“Ahhh,” Becket said, “Yes, I am sure some good old-fashioned talking it out will do her wonders. If you ever wish to talk, I am here for you as well. We all need to vent at times.”
Virgil told him that before that, almost nine months before, Vivian had been an volunteer investigator and had dealt with some horrific child-murders before she was abducted and chained in a basement. She was almost a victim of the killers who mutilated the victims and posed them for shock value.
She not only saw several deaths, but also had to take a life as well in a brutal way after having saved herself and several others from dying in a terrible fire. Not everyone escaped the fire, adding guilt. He realized just how much his wife had seen and done, in addition to adopting a little girl and moving into a house that had a basement full of buried bodies. Guilt washed over him as he thought he was wrong to allow her to come and help on this case, despite her pleas.
No matter how horrible things were at their home, Vivian loved the old house and had made it a home, but she had been through a very rough time, Virgil realized.
As if Becket could read Virgil’s thoughts, he patted him on the shoulder and smiled, “She’ll be fine. She’s smart and may solve this case before you do. She’s fine. I just think that besides her work, she might like to share her experiences and get the fears out. It’s healthy.”
“I think I would have to leave a house with such a history,” Kenshaw said, “and your daughter, wasn’t she frightened by the events in the house?”
Virgil felt he was being analyzed, “Charlene…Charlie, we call her, suffered a tragedy when her mother and sister were murdered by the serial killers we caught; it was a particularly gruesome death for her sister and a tragic one for her mother, and she…Charlie… was abducted. She was tied up in a basement and barely escaped. Vivian saved her, as well. She is a very resilient child, happy, smart, and very understanding and accepting of her situation. She loves our family, and all of us love her.”
“She sounds wonderful,” Becket said.
“Her father, Tobias, is my deputy, but he…well…he lost his mind, I suppose. I don’t know all the ways to explain his condition. He’s in an institution now.” Virgil felt his throat ache and eyes burn with the memories. He knew he was tearing up, but the memories hurt.
“I am so sorry, Sheriff. May I ask his diagnosis?”
“Catatonia, Dr. Kenshaw. He witnessed seeing his daughter’s body just minutes after she had been raped and cut to pieces, and I saw him fall to his knees with absolute anguish, as if his soul had left his body. It was as painful seeing Tobias die in his mind as it was to see the rest. The light in his eyes faded, and he was left screaming until he lapsed into catatonia. He has been told Charlie is alive and well, but it’s as if his mind is far away and he doesn’t respond. Or he can’t.”
“Don’t think me morbid, but I wish he were institutionalized here, despite his not being a criminal. I would be fascinated with the case.”
“I don’t think he could afford it. It’s the state institution he is in since he has no wealthy family.”
“I see.” Kenshaw sat back and nodded. “I am so sorry to hear of this. Seeing that kind of thing surely caused his mind to separate from his body, and he’s lost behind some door. If only we could open that door and reach in and safely guide him free….”
Vigil swallowed a lump and had to sit for a full minute to regain his composure. “You are very kind, Dr. Kenshaw, and I appreciate your compassion. Your suggestions sound like what he needs but can’t afford although the staff and doctors try very hard for him.”
“We are here if ever you wish to talk, too, Sheriff; all of us need to talk at times,” Kenshaw said quietly.
Becket nodded, “Indeed. If you ever stop caring, you’re in the wrong field. Dr. Kenshaw, the nurses, Donte... caring is the reason we still do this.”
As Becket left, the final doctor came in, causing Virgil to have to work to keep his face neutral. He didn’t want information about the staff or patients yet and wished to form his own opinions, but Dr. Lynn Redding challenged him not to betray a quizzical look and just ask questions. She was tall and slender, was dressed in slacks and a pretty, blue blouse, and had swept her blonde hair back off her face. Long, red, painted nails glistened as she shook hands with Virgil. “Lovely to meet you, Virgil. Please let me know when and how I can be of help to you.” Her voice was husky.
“Thank you,” Virgil said.
Kenshaw sat up straighter. “Dr. Redding is our resident expert on personality disorders. Personally, I doubt you’d find anyone more qualified on the subject, and she may benefit your investigation more than anyone else since she truly understands the patients and can tell you her views and present her diagnosis in her own way. I believe she knows far more about each patient here than we do. She has excellent relationships with each patient.”
“Oh, Walter, you go on so; thank you for the sweet words. I only try to get into their minds and find a way for them to find safety and sanity.”
“With aplomb. No doubt, Virgil, she will find all your puzzled pieces and set them to right,” Kenshaw predicted, “and she’s very faithful.”
Virgil thought Dr. Kenshaw betrayed a split second of humor, a little hint of laughter because Virgil had asked for no details unless asked. Kenshaw was enjoying this.
In high-heeled shoes, Dr. Redding stood six feet tall and was graceful and cheerful. He
r red lipstick lips stayed stretched in an infectious smile that was warm and kind. “I’ll introduce you to the patients, if you’re ready? Dr. Kenshaw, we can meet later and review our new patient, Vivian?”
“At your convenience, Dr. Redding,” Kenshaw said. He met Virgil’s eyes for a brief second, confirming that she was the only one who was unaware that Vivian was Virgil’s wife and posing as a patient. The reason for this was unclear, but Virgil didn’t ask why, following his own rules; it piqued his interest at once, and he filed the information away in his head to think about later.
“This way….” said Dr. Redding as she walked like a model out of the door and gave a wave to Kenshaw. “I am excited to see how you solve this case. Maybe in my next life, I will be a detective,” she said as she giggled in a husky way.
Virgil pondered that for a split second, but he was walking down the hall now and memorizing the rooms Dr. Redding pointed out with her elegant fingers. Virgil was learning where everything was but also wondered how Dr. Lynn Redding might look like without the heavy cosmetics and blonde wig. He got it; he really understood and got it, but it was another mystery among the rest, and it had him torn between breaking the rules and asking and finding Vivian and having a big laugh. He wasn’t sure how he felt, and that was part of the mirth Dr. Kenshaw showed in his office, knowing that Virgil would be torn.
Dr. Lynn Redding’s face was heavy with eye shadow around her big, pretty, glittering chocolate-colored eyes. She also wore long, false lashes top and bottom, a small amount of cheek color, and flat, blood-red lipstick that seemed tattooed on. Her hair was glossy and fell in perfect waves that neither humidity nor wind could ruin. She had long, slim leg and a slender torso where two perky, not-too-large and not-too-small breasts poked from under her silky blue blouse.
Dr. Redding was not a full woman. She was at least partly a man just dressed as a female, so female was the gender she identified with. Maybe one of the unusual aspects of the place that Kenshaw alluded to was that a doctor was presently in the middle of a gender reassignment. Virgil had never heard of such a thing. Did people change genders? Why? How? It mystified him.
