“Go on.”
“During that instance, Dr. Klein accidentally gave too much of the medication, overdosed the patient. By the time he realized what he'd done, it was already too late. The patient ended up in a deep coma and never awoke. They were dead by nightfall, and nothing the doctor could do would bring them back.” Ruth had gathered up bunches of her habit in each hand, and looked on the verge of tears. Her veil quaked as she went on. “He killed him. It was an accident,” she added with a shake of her finger. “I can promise you that. It was an amateurish mistake, a serious one, but a mistake nevertheless. He never intended to kill the man, least of all when he was so near to recovering, and I can't tell you how badly it affected the doctor. Dr. Klein was inconsolable, and we all knew that this was the kind of error that could ruin a bright future like his. First of all, a State investigation into the death would bring attention to the goings-on at the Sick House. We'd be shut down, for good this time, and the Sisters would likely end up on trial. Dr. Klein stood to lose his license before he'd even fully earned it. And on top of all this, a man was dead. An innocent man, who might've been released after another month of care. It was a mess. A horrible mess, for all involved.”
Ulrich massaged his jaw. “So, he killed someone. Never saw that coming.”
Again, Ruth was quick to interject. “He did it accidentally! It was a beginner's mistake. His nerves had been shot, his focus ruined!”
“Oh?” Ulrich arched a brow. “So, I take it you were there when this accident took place?”
Ruth went pale, sinking back into her seat. Her lips seemed to tremble as she slowly shook her head. “No. Only Dr. Klein and Astrid were there at the time. Astrid called me, and I came after the fact. The patient had already passed by the time I got there. They felt it best not to tell any of the other Sisters, or to involve the authorities, until they were sure nothing more could be done for the fellow.”
This little story was beginning to smell really fishy to the investigator, who pressed on despite Ruth's obvious reticence. “OK, so you weren't there. But you're so sure it was an accident? Why is that?” He cleared his throat. “You said that the doctor was unfocused. Why? What had him so distracted that he'd kill a guy during his rounds?”
“Well,” began Ruth, “Astrid told me that the man had made a comment to the doctor shortly before being dosed, and that the doctor had been agitated by it. This probably caused him to make the error in his calculations that led to the overdose.” She hesitated, kneading her hands so tightly that the prominent veins looked on the verge of bursting like blue balloons. “The two of them worked there alone much of the time. I suppose that the patient thought this was inappropriate, because he insinuated that he and Astrid-- a nun, I remind you-- were carrying on some sort of illicit affair during their shifts at the infirmary.”
“And? Was that true?”
Ruth bounced up, hands clutching the armrests. She looked offended, like Ulrich had just walked over to the wooden crucifix hanging on the wall near the door and snapped it over his knee. “Absolutely not. The Sisters of Mercy take their vows very seriously, and Astrid was no exception. But that was what the man said, and it apparently upset Dr. Klein very much. It was a hateful thing to say, and you can imagine how a rumor of that kind could ruin both their reputations. Those were far more conservative times, Mr. Ulrich. Such a thing being falsely spouted would have incensed the doctor, perhaps made it hard to focus.”
Ulrich fought back a grin. Maybe, but killing the guy with a medication overdose is an easy way to keep that little gem from ever escaping the confines of the Sick House if it's true. Dead men tell no tales, after all. “What was the man's name? The patient, who was killed?”
Ruth was some time in replying, and when she finally did, it wasn't with a name. “That particular patient was a John Doe. He'd been homeless prior to his admission, and we knew next to nothing about him. He went by the nickname 'Teddy', but that was all we knew. He had no next of kin that we knew of, either.”
Yep. This was getting scummier and scummier every minute. Folding his hands over his lips, Ulrich nodded. “And what happened after all of that? Teddy died and the three of you had a pow-wow in the Sick House. Then?”
That was when the tears started in earnest. Ruth couldn't hold it back any longer, and continued between gasping sobs. “I'm not going to say I'm proud of how we handled it, but to us, it seemed like the only way at the time. Teddy's body... we stashed it away down in the tunnels beneath the building. Most of the buildings out in Moonville feature tunnels. They linked the town together in the old days, and it seemed like the kind of place no one would ever look. We stashed the body there and never went public, because we knew what might happen if we did. Me and Astrid, well, we told Sister Margaret, but only because she would know one of the patients was missing. Fearing legal trouble should it come out, she arranged to move the remaining patients to a care facility outside McArthur to keep from attracting local attention and we left the Sylvan Infirmary for good. Some of them didn't make it, as we'd predicted. They'd been too ill for the transfer. But to do otherwise, to involve the authorities, would have been to wreck Dr. Klein's bright future. We all agreed that this would be an awful thing. The whole incident had been a mistake, after all. A terrible mistake. Should the young doctor, inexperienced as he was, be forced to pay for that mistake his whole life? To throw away everything he'd worked so hard for?”
“Some would say yes,” offered Ulrich.
Ruth clammed up, looking deflated, and stewed in silence for a time. She'd gotten it all off of her chest, and looked positively miserable. Though an old woman, Ruth looked as though she'd aged another decade. Her eyes were red, sunken, and her feeble features quaked with every labored sob.
“You say Astrid disappeared. Where did that happen in relation to all of this, and where do you think she went?”
Drying her tears, Ruth shrugged. “I don't know. I think that she ran off, the guilt of the thing being too much for her. She was a sensitive, kind girl. I imagine she left for Columbus or some other large city and just carved out a new life. She disappeared not long after that incident. A few weeks later, I believe. Dr. Klein had already gone off to complete his residency at OSU. As for me, I worked under Sister Margaret here at the church from that day on.”
“Well, I've got one thing to say about all of this,” muttered Ulrich, standing up and pacing a short distance across the living room. He picked up his mug, the tea having cooled greatly, and took a loud sip. “Your buddy Teddy is still in there, somewhere, and I think I've met him.” He met Ruth's wide gaze. “I was poking around the Sick House and encountered something. It reached out to me, touched me, and left one of those handprints. It must've wanted to get through to me somehow, perhaps tell me about what you three had done to him. And now that I know-- now that someone on the outside knows what happened to him-- perhaps his spirit can rest in peace.”
“Maybe so,” she mumbled, pawing at her cheeks. “It was a great sin on our part, and we may well pay for it. What's done is done, however. It's in God's hands.”
That felt like such a cop out. Perhaps Ruth was right, and it was in God's hands, though Ulrich knew he could likely tip off the authorities and have the old nun locked up for the rest of her days. Helping stash a body, even if it was decades ago, definitely qualified as a serious crime. Still, at that moment, he had other things to worry about. This compelling lead of his, Astrid Baker, had gone missing. The note Dr. Klein had received led him to believe that she was still out there somewhere. Perhaps she'd sent the doctor that note in the hopes of meeting up with him at the infirmary.
And then there was the fact that the good doctor, beloved by all, had quite the skeleton in his closet. Swell guy that he was, he'd accidentally killed a patient as a student-- and the “accidental” part of that was still up for question. Instead of coming clean and facing the consequences for his actions, he and some nuns had stashed the body away like a sack of garbage in the tunnels b
eneath the Sick House. It was particularly twisted, because everyone he'd spoken to had been adamant about how kind and noble a man Dr. Klein had been. What would Jerome think, knowing that his uncle had been a killer?
The doctor's body had been found on the site, so perhaps he'd gotten his comeuppance in the end. But who'd done it? Who'd killed him, and why? Someone who'd known about the “medication error” so many years ago? Astrid and Sister Ruth here both seemed mighty suspicious, but he couldn't rule out that someone else had learned of the incident during the past few decades and sought revenge against the doctor. A previously unknown relative of Teddy's, perhaps?
Suddenly things were making a bit more sense. Where before Ulrich couldn't imagine any reason for the doctor's return to the abandoned infirmary, he now had something to work with. Maybe Astrid, or someone else who knew about the incident, had baited him out there. For all he knew, it was Sister Ruth, who sat across from him at that very moment, sweating bullets. He tried to picture it: So, Dr. Klein gets this note, signed by Astrid Baker, who ran off after the incident fifty-odd years ago. Maybe she's feeling guilty about it, wants to come clean and let everyone know about what really happened that day. Can't live with her guilty conscience anymore after all of these years. And Dr. Klein, knowing what's up, goes to meet her there. But when he arrives, they fight, and Astrid kills him, buries him where she hopes no one will ever look. And then she fades away again.
Nothing was certain, but this seemed as likely an explanation as any.
Ulrich cleared his throat, thanking Sister Ruth for her time. “I think that's enough for today. I might be back some other time with more questions.” He nodded and slowly started for the door. All the while, the nun didn't move an inch, simply leaning back in her seat and appearing pale, defeated.
***
While running through everything he'd just learned and coming up with new theories, Ulrich felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he found it was Officer Mark calling. The SUV idled in the church parking lot as he answered. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mr. Ulrich?” began the officer, his voice tinged with something like nervousness.
“Yeah?”
“It's Officer Mark Dennison, State Highway Patrol?”
Ulrich chuckled. “I know the one. What's going on?”
Officer Mark hesitated. “Well, uh, it's a little early yet for the forensics to come back on those remains we found yesterday. But our guy had a look at them and found a few interesting details that I thought I might share.” His voice dropped noticeably. “This is strictly off the record, though. It's not really the kind of thing that I should be blabbing about. It's relevant to your case, though, and I don't think anyone would mind too much, considering the nature of these finds.”
“Out with it, then!” Ulrich was growing impatient, leaning the seat back and staring up at the dome light in the car ceiling.
“Those remains,” began the officer, “they don't belong to Dr. Klein.”
Ulrich shot upright, holding onto the wheel and straightening out his seat in a hurry. “What?”
“Yeah. They aren't his bones.”
“Well, who the hell do they belong to, then?”
Mark gulped. “Well, that's the thing. We don't know yet. But our guy was able to tell us a little bit about them. First off, they're old. Decades old. And it looks like they're the remains of a female. Young, probably twenties or thirties.”
The investigator grit his teeth. Female remains, decades-old? He knew better than to read too deeply into that, but his mind was reeling already with the possibilities. “I see.”
“And that's not all.”
Chuckling incredulously, Ulrich slapped the wheel. “Oh, and what else could there possibly be?”
“There are some other bones mixed in there with Jane Doe's remains. Thought it was another body entirely, but... it looks like the victim was pregnant when she died. Wasn't far along, but those bones in there are a baby's, no doubt.”
Son of a bitch. Ulrich was speechless for a time.
“Y-you still there?”
“Yeah.” Staring out the windshield at the outside of the church, he noticed a few well-dressed townsfolk ambling in. “Thanks for the call,” he added.
“So, what'll you do now?” asked Mark. “I guess that kind of throws a wrench in your investigation, eh?”
There was really only one thing for him to do, of course. “I'm going to have to go back to the infirmary, obviously. I've come upon a few details that I can't ignore. And the Sick House is at the center of things. I have to go back.” He looked to the clock on the dash. “It's early yet. I'll probably head back to the hotel and gather my things. And get lunch. After that, I'll have to stop by and poke around in that miserable old place. May as well do it while there's still some light out, though.”
“Whoa, now,” interjected Mark. “Can't let you do that. That place is closed to outsiders, a crime scene after what we found last time. I'm sorry, but I can't allow it.”
Ulrich shook his head. “So, will you come and arrest me, then? You know where to find me, after all.”
The officer stammered a response, but fell silent.
“And I don't suppose your department has men posted there to keep people out, do they?”
Silence.
“That's what I thought. If you feel the need to lock up a hardened law-breaker like me, you know where to find me,” said Ulrich with seasick amusement. He hung up.
Chapter 21
Siegfried Klein had killed once; had he killed twice?
That was the chief question on Ulrich's mind as he pulled into the Hotel Acardi's narrow lot and hopped out. The remains he and Mark had found outside of the Sick House hadn't been those of Dr. Klein after all. He felt secure that they belonged to Astrid Baker, the “missing” nun, who'd helped Klein and Ruth stash Teddy's body so many years ago at the infirmary. Moreover, the fetal remains found in the grave were likely those of Klein's and Astrid's child. There was probably something to the rumor that the doctor and Sister Astrid had had a fling after all. Dr. Klein might've killed that patient, Teddy, because he knew about it. In fact, it's probable. The doctor's overdosing of the patient had been framed as a complete accident by Ruth, but Ulrich now had reason to believe that it'd been anything but.
He didn't want to jump to conclusions, to let his mind run away from him. Up to this point, he'd run a shoddy investigation, and was somewhat ashamed of himself. From the very first day he'd stumbled into McArthur things had gone poorly. He'd walked into the Sick House without thinking, had gotten spooked there, only to get the runaround from everyone in town. All of the information he'd gained in the past few days had served to confuse the crap out of him. This was the first time in this investigation that he really had a strong working theory, the very first time he could claim to be in control of things.
And the only way for him to verify his hypotheses would be to return to that wretched infirmary in the woods of Moonville.
All of his information was pointing to the body of this patient, Teddy, which was supposedly stashed away in the tunnels beneath the infirmary. Something told him that if he sought out this body, he'd find what he was looking for. At this point, he wasn't even certain what he was looking for, but all of the momentum he'd hitherto gained was pushing him towards this inevitable search beneath the Sick House. Dr. Klein, or proof of his return to the Sick House, would probably be there. This was the next step, the only natural progression for the case.
Of course, that didn't stop him from being scared shitless.
He rounded the corner of the Hotel Acardi, rifling through his pocket for the keys to his room. He wanted to gather up his things and load them into the SUV in case he had to leave McArthur in a hurry. As he turned however, he spied a short, black-haired woman standing outside his door, smoking. Her mane of blackish-silver hair was wildly disheveled, and her stubby nose was stained red in the hues of the drunkard. Her eyes were heavy, giving the impression
of prolonged sleeplessness, and at sighting him, she dropped her cigarette and stamped it out in a hurry.
He knew who she was before she staggered forward and introduced herself.
Combing a lock of tangled hair aside, she sniffed at the air and folded her arms over her ill-fitting white T-shirt. It was a long thing, several sizes too big, and stained with dirt. “H-hello,” she said, her voice rough. “My name is Ramona Willis.” She held out her hand to shake, and Ulrich took it gingerly. “Y-you're, uh... Mr. Ulrich, right? The detective?”
He nodded slowly.
“I wanted to talk to you, sir,” she said, a cough following shortly thereafter. Her voice was positively grating, deepened by years of chain smoking. Her skin was grooved and discolored, with splotches of yellow throughout. That she was unwell was all too clear. Years of drinking and smoking had left her in a sorry state.
“Sure, what about?” asked Ulrich, crossing his arms.
“Dennis told me you were staying in this room,” she said, nodding towards the door. “Can we talk inside, please?” She glanced at the rest of the building, as if half-expecting to find someone hanging out of one of the windows, listening.
He didn't like the idea of inviting the woman inside, and wasn't completely sure he could trust her. He was in a hurry and didn't care to have a widely-known drunk slow him down with her nonsense. Nevertheless, he pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, waving her in. “I'm in something of a hurry,” he said as he closed the door behind them and made a beeline for his valise. “I hope this won't take long.” Even from across the room he could smell the cigarette smoke on her. She was a living, breathing ashtray.
Swaying nervously at the door, she nodded and looked up at the ceiling, her breathing shaky. “I, uh, left you a note. Jerome told me you were coming, that you might wanna talk to me, and I knew you'd be stayin' here as it's the only place in town.” She licked her lips.
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