Of Guilt and Innocence: Institute at the Criminally Insane (Virgil McLendon Thrillers Book 3)

by catt dahman

  Virgil felt dizzy.

  In Tamantha’s pretty French Provincial bedroom which was decorated in colors of gold, white, and violet, a crimson-color splattered the bed and white carpets and was rubbed on the doors and around the windows and into the imported silk wallpaper which had been cream-colored with flakes of gold and pressed violets. Decorating the bedroom had cost a fortune.

  Tamantha’s mother could only scream hysterically when she saw the situation, unaware of what had happened and unable to make sense of it all. She promptly fainted, and a maid called for an ambulance and the police, but Tamantha’s father bled to death amid the splatters of his own blood.

  Tamantha’s nanny, aware of the abuse her little angel had suffered but too afraid to do much, stepped over the dying man, gave him a quick kick, and wrapped the girl in a blanket. She sat and rocked her while waiting for the police to come and then later ran all through the house, screaming.

  “It was a media circus, and no one knew what to think. Some thought it was a just reward, and others thought she was a criminal. But the biggest factor was Tamantha refused to eat even a bite of food and became too ill to function until she was hospitalized with heart problems. Her mother contacted us, and Dr. Becket, brilliant as always, knew just what to do. He said she was far too ill for a trial or to be cared for at home.”

  “Obviously,” Virgil said.

  Dr. Becket spoke with the judge and district attorney, arguing his case passionately, and Tamantha’s mother was all too eager to admit her daughter for fear her child was a danger to others. It was a nightmare she wanted to escape, especially the tabloids and photographers, and she did so by selling the house, moving to California, and marrying a blond surfer within a year.

  “William, my brother, is learning to surf. I am too fat and would sink to the bottom of the ocean if I tried.”

  “Tamantha doesn’t eat meat or fish because that’s still a scary concept, but she will eat well cooked vegetables or grains that are chopped and mashed. She won’t eat any cream sauces. At times, she won’t take but a spoonful of mashed carrots or peas, but occasionally, she will eat a full cup. We’re so proud and excited for her,” Redding said, making Tamantha’s face glow.

  “The fears are gone?

  “Oh, no, Dr. McLendon, Dr. Becket put me on birth control pills. They keep a woman from growing things in her belly.” She held out a bottle labeled with Tamantha’s name and BIRTH CONTROL PILLS, TAKE AS NEEDED. Virgil glanced into the green bottle and almost spilled the secret; they were no more than a common, popular candy in various colors. They were a placebo.

  “She’s gained three pounds in the last month,” Redding gushed.

  “I’m impressed. Keep up the good work, Tamantha. That’s the way to get healthy again.”

  “Maybe,” Tamantha nodded thoughtfully.

  Virgil tried to sort all the information. Tamantha was brilliant but abused horribly, innocent, yet a murderer. It was difficult to imagine the torture this child went through, and his blood ran cold when she told him about the eggs, but he was unable to determine exactly how he felt. There was sympathy, but he also felt a sense of disgust.

  “Tamantha, did you see anything related to the murders that occurred here? Maybe someone who hurt the other patients? Someone who was violent?”

  “No. I know about the deaths, but I was asleep and saw nothing. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you.”

  Outside the closed door, Virgil sagged, feeling drained.

  “I began with the easiest case we have.”

  Virgil grimaced, “That’s easy?

  “She doesn’t understand those were abortions or what they even mean; she still fears food. We thought it was a case of her starving herself to look skinny at first, but when all that came out, well, you can imagine that Dr. Kenshaw was interested in this case, and as you can see, she is slowly gaining weight and becoming calm.”

  “What’s the prognosis?”

  “We’ll keep her weight up and let her live here comfortably. Her mother can afford it. She’ll never stand trial, and Dr. Becket wishes to leave her delusions alone, fearing that forcing her to understand the true abuse and trauma she suffered would kill her. The candies are her pills, and they do her no harm but give her peace. When we got her, she was combative, violent, scared, and suicidal.”

  Virgil said, “You will heal her body, but her mind is lost?”

  Redding nodded and then said, “I’m afraid so. In some ways. You saw that as she spoke in some places she was very normal, able to reason and form ideas on her own, but in others places, she is quite lost.”

  “And this is the help I will get to solve three murders?”

  Nurse Annabeth Curtis went to Tamantha’s room to help her into a warm bath.

  Lynn Redding belly laughed and said, “Oh, Sheriff, you are funny. Trust me, she is one of the best witnesses you’ll have! You have your work cut out for you on this case, but once you learn who each person is and know what to ask each one, the pieces should fall right into place. If she knew anything, she would have said. She’s aware now and not delusional about the present.”

  “Since she said she saw nothing, it’s the truth?”

  “She is many things, but not a liar. She would have told you if she knew anything at all. Let me show you to your room, and then we can continue. Your bags were taken there. With only one patient interview, you are already sweating and pale. Don’t tell, but we’ll run by my room where I have some brandy. I’ll grab some hot tea, and we’ll perk you up in no time.”

  His bags were neatly placed on his bed and on a table. He nodded and followed Lynn Redding.

  “It isn’t real brandy. Exactly. It’s a few drops of rum extract from the kitchen and juice that Donte gets for me, but it smells like brandy, doesn’t harm me, and gives me a little secret laugh when I have tea.”

  With hot, strong tea laced with pretend-brandy, Virgil did feel stronger and more calm, but he understood why his friend Special Agent Mason Lord had snickered when they spoke on the phone and had said that if Virgil couldn’t solve this one, everyone would understand.

  “Okay, Lynn, I am ready to go.”

  As he said it, he had doubts.

  Chapter Two: Devoured

  “Hello, Keri. How are you today?”

  “Navus. I hat a lot a enaygy an eel like uning mping ot the oof,” she replied.

  “Nervous and with a lot of energy? You want to jump off the roof? I want to see that as soon as you get through the locked doors and get through a barred window,” Dr. Redding chuckled and continued, “Dr. McLendon is here to intern, and I know he knows this, but I want to remind him of your symptoms, Keri. Doctor, Keri has Lesch-Nyhan which you know is almost never seen in females even if they carry the gene for it.”

  “I have never seen a female with this,” Virgil answered honestly.

  “She is teasing us. She has no desire to jump anywhere. Keri has a wicked sense of humor.”

  “I ont,” Keri said.

  The girl before him was plain as far as looks, and she had terrible keloid scars all over her forehead that were thick, dark, and ugly. She had no lips, only smooth, white scar tissue where lips should have been. She enunciated carefully.

  Redding was smooth. She said, “For the excessive buildups of uric acid, we use allopurinol to prevent and help with gout, and for the neurological symptoms, we use diazepam which has far better results than phenobarbital. Dr. Becket prescribes all that. He feels the results are far better, and Keri says they work for her.”

  Virgil nodded sagely, “I agree. That is a better choice.”

  Keri, a pretty, dark-haired girl suddenly smiled, “See? Day toot dye teefs,” she said through her smile that revealed smooth, toothless gums. “They took my teeth,” she had said.

  Virgil nodded that he understood.

  “That was done before she came to us. They tried muzzles to prevent her biting, but that didn’t work. People protested it was cruel, so t
hen her family had her teeth removed so she would stop the autophagy,” Redding explained.

  Virgil translated quickly. Auto was self. Phagy was to eat. He blinked. And tried to sound like a doctor, “Keri, you were eating your own body?”

  “Yeah. I soy. I oudnt stot I self.” Yeah, I couldn’t stop myself, she said.

  Dr. Lynn Redding gently raised one of Keri’s feet encased in a sock. It was tiny and off looking; Virgil realized Keri had chewed away her own toes. He glanced at her hands hidden in soft cotton gloves and saw two fingers and a thumb on her left hand and a thumb and one finger, two half fingers, and a missing pinky.

  Virgil had never imagined anything like this and was frightened a little by the savagery Keri had inflicted upon herself.

  “We keep a very bitter lotion on her hands and all over her skin, actually for fear she will keep trying. She has been known to pick open a section of flesh and eat, haven’t, you, Keri? She ate away her lips and stripped flesh from her body. She did all of this herself.”

  “Yes, if I could finish my hands, then I couldn’t pick…I keep telling you,” Keri said, but in her broken, muffled way. “Yef. Eh coo inise I ands den I coo ick…I kee tellin’ ya.”

  “You’d use a fork or spoon. I know how tricky you are. Keri is sad and feels guilty after an episode, but we have to use bitter oils and gloves and watch her moods, don’t we, Keri? Doctors had difficulty diagnosing Keri with autophagy because it is so rare in female, so before a diagnosis, Keri had shown problems in school with biting, spitting, swearing, being aggressive, and fighting. Other symptoms began to show when she was in kindergarten, but instead of being diagnosed and helped, she was punished, or she begged that she would be good.”

  “I see.”

  “Keri was a biter and was made to stay in a corner for most of her school days to protect the other children. When she couldn’t bite them, she bit herself. Then, It became more severe. She was rebellious to her teachers, and the cause was thought to be puberty or hormones at that point, but when the autophagy began, her parents in earnest found excellent doctors who began treatment. They realized what was wrong.”

  “I’m going to go find Donte and tackle him. I can beat him,” Keri said suddenly, almost impossible to understand, since she had eaten away her lips. “I gon to ind Dontee and taggle ‘im. I ca eat ‘im.”

  She said, “Beat, not eat.”

  Keri nodded and said, “No eat.”

  “That isn’t controlling an impulse to threaten Donte. You love him, Keri.” Dr. Redding walked to a wall gadget and pressed a few buttons.

  “Yes?”

  “Nurse, Keri is planning to jump on Donte again and is having issues with her impulse control.”

  “Thank you, Lynn. Dr. Becket is on the way and so is Nurse Curtis with her medication.”

  Redding shrugged, “So they’ll come in and evaluate to see if I am right, and Dr. Becket will then order a different medication if he thinks this is a bad storm coming on, or Nurse Curtis can administer the usual medication if needed.”

  Keri nodded happily.

  “Keri, did your family bring you here because they needed help with your illness?”

  She blinked and said, “No. The court…the judge sent me here.” It sounded like “no, de coat…de jud sen e he.”

  “I see.” Virgil did his best to understand her and found her pattern easy to catch on to. He didn’t want to have to ask Lynn for a translation. Remembering what Kenshaw had said, Virgil knew that Keri’s family was wealthy, she was an unusual case, and she was guilty of some terrible crime. He feared knowing but asked what she had done.

  At the Oxford house, Keri was with her parents and sister for a family dinner. Keri had been doing much better and had stopped biting and was controlling herself much better. She was excited as she prepared onions and carrots to go with the pork roast, made cornbread from scratch, and cooked green beans. Her mother was thrilled to see her able to concentrate and take on a task, and Keri beamed radiantly.

  The family sat in the living room watching movies, and Keri played waitress, refilling the glasses with iced tea, and in a while, the mouthwatering aroma of the roast began to fill the house; they were getting hungry, and everything smelled delicious. It was a hopeful day, filled with laughter and all about the family.

  She wanted to cook alone, so she shooed them from her area, giggling.

  “I’ll take the roast out so it can sit a few minutes and taste it to make sure it’s good,” said Keri as she laughed, “I’ll call you when it’s time.”

  Keri’s sister Jenni stood and said she would go into the little bedroom off of the kitchen and hallway, using the hall door so Keri could surprise them since she was so thrilled with this endeavor. Seeing Keri act so normal was wonderful. For way too long, she had been aggressive and violent.

  Jenni’s baby had taken a long nap, and if she woke the baby and breast fed him, he would sleep longer; he was only two months old and slept a lot. She would feed him quickly before dinner was served.

  Jenni opened the door to the bedroom; the other door to the kitchen was partially open, and she was surprised Bart had not awakened with the noise of pots and pans. Maybe Keri had checked on Bart?

  “Ummm. It’s delicious. The skin is crackling, and the meat is so tender….” Keri called out, tempting and teasing her family.

  Keri’s parents rose to go into the kitchen.

  Jenni frantically looked for Bart, searching under the bed even though he couldn’t crawl off the bed. The window was closed, and drapes were drawn. She had left him in the center of the bed with pillows all around. “Mama?” her voice raised a little with rising panic. Where was Bart? She tossed pillows and covers to the floor in the corner.

  Bart was gone.

  “That smells heavenly,” Keri’s father said.

  Keri’s mother saw the green beans, uncooked, cold on the stove and forgotten, perhaps. Keri hadn’t cooked them. Beside the pot was an oiled, tin pan full of yellow, sweet cornbread that was unbaked. She blinked again. Keri hadn’t baked the cornbread although she mixed it.

  “Mama? Mama?????” Jenni started to scream.

  But Jenni and Keri’s mother was frozen in place as she noticed on the counter was a deep, oval, speckled black pan, its lid beside it. The pork roast sat in the pan, raw. Keri hadn’t cooked the pork roast although it was in the pan.

  The scent of well-cooked pork roast filled the kitchen.

  “Mama?” Jenni screamed louder.

  “Keri?” her father let out a roar as he looked at the roast Keri was picking at and eating, a browned roast surrounded by carrots, onions, and potatoes in a different roasting pan. “Oh, my dear God….”

  “Mother came right over to my chair, so pale she looked like a ghost,” Keri told Virgil. “I couldn’t help myself. I have an impulse problem, see. I did a very bad thing.”

  Virgil had to translate carefully. His throat was tight and dry. “What did you do?”

  Keri smiled brightly, “Mama had waited a long time for dinner and was hungry, so I offered her some roast. I speared it off with a fork; it was so tender, and I held it out to her. She fainted; can you believe it?” “See ainted” was what Keri said. She fainted.

  Jenni ran into the kitchen for help, desperate to find her baby, but skidded to a stop; neighbors two doors down could hear her screaming and called the police. Jenni’s legs went out from under her as she saw her parents, and she curled up in a fetal position with her forehead on the floor where she leaned over, wailing.

  Their father grasped his chest and collapsed on the wooden floor; he was dead by the time his head thumped the boards.

  With her mother in a faint, her father dead on the floor, and her baby roasted, Jenni just screamed over and over, blasting pealing, hysterical noises that echoed through the house and down the street. Neighbors said it was like hearing a mad woman shrieking.

  The ambulance crew and police ran into the home to find a woman in a faint, still unconscious
; a man dead of a heart attack; a young woman screaming hysterically who had to be restrained and given a sedative before they could get her on a stretcher; and out of the kitchen, a younger girl, calmly watching it all. Keri just sat and watched, passively. She ate daintily.

  Redding spoke, “One of the officers, a veteran of twenty years, had to run outside to vomit. Keri was still eating, and she had finished the toes and was working her way up Bart’s legs.”

  Virgil stood, “I need some air.”

  Nurse Curtis and Becket, ready to sedate Keri, nodded to Virgil as he and Redding left the room. Nurse Brighton came out and took Virgil’s arm, leading him to a chair and speaking in soothing tones. “You’re very pale. Are you okay, Sir?”

  Virgil nodded as he gulped and swallowed bile, “That’s the most horrible story I’ve ever heard. I feel sick.”

  “I understand. Breathe slowly.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Brighton sighed and said, “It’s a terrible one. Remember, it is a genetic flaw, and her brain doesn’t work as others do. She genuinely can’t determine right from wrong and is pushed to devour her own body and harm others. She can’t stop herself. If anything, be relieved that she is here where she is medicated for all her symptoms and rarely has set backs. In a bad case, she might be in a low income sanatorium with a leather face mask over her mouth like a muzzle, left in place all day, every day. A worse case would be her being out on the streets.”

  “Yes.”

  “Her sister had her teeth removed as they tried to stop the behavior because that’s when she went full-on in devouring her own body. It didn’t work.”

  “It’s hard to feel sympathy when I feel so disgusted by her,” Virgil admitted.

  Lynn Redding nodded. “That’s perfectly normal. She won’t live a full life and will most likely be wheelchair bound in a few years. She isn’t evil, but very ill. Sometimes the lines become blurred. She literally doesn’t understand what she did was wrong. She has no concept. It’s a genetic flaw. It’s a physical manifestation of a serious flaw.”

  “How do you stand this?”