One Dead Under the Cuckoo's Nest

by Lori Avocato

  The damn broom handle glared at me.

  Attached was a yellow Post-it note. Wanna bee next?

  I didn’t think they meant the flying insect. I also don’t think the note writer meant anything good was about to happen.

  I stared at the broom handle a few seconds, then stood silently. There. I could remove my hand now. As I did, I heard a shuffling of footsteps in the hallway. Quickly I shoved the metal culprit toward the wall and dropped two towels on it. The note stuck to my shoe. Great. I wiggled and danced a bit until I could reach my foot and grab it. Then I shoved it into my pocket and hurried out of the bathroom.

  “Everything all right in here?” Sister Barbie asked from behind me. I turned to see she held a tray of medication and was doing that squinting thing like my mother.

  I wondered if that really helped someone see better like holding a book miles away from your face does once you hit forty.

  Now, in my flustered state, I’d have to remember Jagger’s instructions on how not to swallow a pill. “Yes … Sister. Everything is fine. I was about to go to sleep. Tired after my pass. You know, my cut and all.” I prayed she wouldn’t ask to see it.

  Thankfully her hands held a tray filled with psychedelic colored pills. Seemed like hundreds of them. As usual, she was in a hurry to shove them at patients. When she gave me the little green one, Novitiate Lalli appeared at the door, flashlight in hand.

  Damn.

  With my mouth shut, I wiggled my tongue to get it exercised enough to do the trick. Sister started to turn.

  “Take it now, Pauline.”

  Novitiate Lalli moved closer like some private dick investigating a case and not some novitiate nurse about ready to scrutinize my mouth. The woman gave me the willies. I mentally moved her up higher on my list of suspects. Tied with Spike now.

  Hmm. A new nun. How convenient. Maybe she had pretended she really wanted to be a nun just to get this job to … commit fraud. My gut and my experience said she was a nursing student, but the nun part was still in doubt.

  “Take the pill,” Lalli reiterated. “We have plenty of patients to medicate.”

  I’ll just bet you do. I opened my mouth, said a silent prayer and popped the pill in. Then I did the Jagger trick while swallowing.

  “Stick out your tongue,” she ordered.

  The moment of truth. Suddenly fear gripped my insides when I realized there’d be consequences if I got caught. What they’d be, I had no idea. I only assumed I wouldn’t like them, and, they could blow my cover. I looked to see Novitiate Lalli glaring at me, lit flashlight aimed high.

  I wiggled my tongue, did as Jagger had said and opened.

  As if digging for gold, she leaned so near I could smell the scent of cologne. Hmm. Nuns wear cologne? It was some kind of musk oil, light but sweet.

  “Lift up your tongue.”

  Yikes.

  After a sneeze, I did as I was told, praying at record speed that the pill was safely out of sight.

  “Clean,” she pronounced, shut off her light and turned toward the door.

  Unfortunately, Sister Barbie Doll hesitated.

  Soon the pill would start to melt. Melt mind-altering drugs right into my system, and I’d be a basket case. So, again with the nonexistent acting skills, I smiled at her and yawned. “My head is starting to hurt from my cut.”

  She looked at me a few seconds. “Then, my child, you should get some rest.” Following Novitiate Lalli, she turned and went out the door.

  Poof!

  I spit the damn pill out across the room before it could leak anymore into my system. Quickly I grabbed it, hurried into the bathroom and flushed the pill into oblivion. Had to keep a clear head around here now that I was alone.

  Oh, my God! I was alone.

  After what not only seemed like hours but must have been, I tossed and turned for the last time. In between tosses I had dozed but kept waking up. Deciding to get up and get a drink of water, I shoved off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. An eerie silence filled my room.

  Nighttime in a mental hospital is what scary movies are made of. I sat for a few minutes then shoved on my slippers and grabbed my robe. I started to head to my private bathroom and then realized—the broom handle was still in there.

  Great.

  A feeling of doom grabbed me inside, as if the metal object were some snake or other venomous reptile. I told myself to get over it. It was an inanimate object. Sure, one that was put there to scare the stuffing out of me. I decided to toughen up or I’d never be able to do a good job.

  I stood, let my blood pressure stabilize and walked into the bathroom.

  Empty.

  No towels.

  No broom handle.

  Hmm. I didn’t recall there being a maid service in this place. So who took it all?

  I grabbed at the sink as if the absence of the damn thing was more horrifying than the presence of it earlier. The idea that someone had snuck in and took it while I dozed was a frightening thought. I took a deep breath and decided I’d go out into the ward.

  I turned, walked to the door, opened it and looked down the hallway. Empty and quiet. In the distance, faint snoring filled the air. Had to be from the patients who actually swallowed their meds. While I made my way toward the nurses’ station to inform them I’d be sitting out in the dayroom for a while, I thought of Margaret. I really needed to be there to help her, and Jagger would soon realize that I was gone.

  He’d come. I knew he would. Jagger was always there in a pinch—and sometimes I wanted to pinch his … never mind those kinds of thoughts. Preservation and growing old had to be my first priority.

  A lay nurse sat at the desk. I hadn’t been out here during the night before but figured with the shortage of nuns, there had to be plenty of laypeople working in this place. She looked pleasant enough in her floral scrubs while she bent over a computer keyboard.

  I cleared my throat when I stood near the window of the glass-enclosed (shatterproof, I assumed) nurses’ station. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  She looked up and smiled. “Nurse Lindeman. Sharon Lindeman. Can I help you, Mary Louise?”

  Not that again. Okay, I’d cut her some slack since she wasn’t around during the days and probably had only seen my chart and me asleep most nights. “Yes and no. First, please call me Pauline. My doctor said to. Second, I can’t sleep—”

  She got up. “I’ll check your orders for a sleeping pill.”

  “No!” I smiled. “No, thank you, Nurse Lindeman. I only want permission to sit in the dayroom for a bit. Then I’m sure I’ll go back to my room and fall asleep like a baby.” I’d been at my sister’s during naptime and always wondered why the comparisons were made to sleeping like a baby. None of my nieces or nephews ever wanted to go to sleep. They cried until wiped out. Maybe there was too much on my mind to sleep tonight, but that couldn’t possibly be the problem babies had. I figured crying around here would only get me heavily medicated or wrapped in the wet sheets like a tamale.

  She stared at me a few seconds. “Fine. Just don’t put on the television.”

  I chuckled. “What the heck would be on right now anyway?”

  “Movies,” a deep voice said from behind.

  At first I thought it was Jagger in disguise, but I turned to see a damn fine-looking guy about my age, standing there in a white lab coat. Hmm. Maybe he’d replaced Dr. Dick.

  “Movies? Well, that would be nice,” I said smiling, “but I don’t want to wake anyone. I’ll just sit and meditate.”

  “I’ll join you.” He stepped closer. “Terry. Terry Myers. Dr. Terry Myers.”

  I looked to see Nurse Lindeman’s reaction, but she had turned back to her computer. That was good enough for me. She didn’t see any problem with me talking to this doctor. Maybe, without breaking any confidences, I could get some information that might help the case.

  He followed me to the dayroom, sat opposite my chair and proceeded to tell me about his education, from Yale Medical School
to his stint here. After I’d told him that I had gone to Yale for my master’s degree, we reminisced about our alma mater.

  “Small world,” he said, staring at my legs. “Same school.”

  I had to believe that my Maciejko legs—inherited from my mother, grandmother and well, all the rest of the female clan—were of interest to him. I shifted and recrossed.

  He continued to look down and told me how attractive I was.

  Hey, wait a minute. Wouldn’t that be considered unprofessional—even if true? “Yes, I guess it is a small world.” I tried to gain some eye contact, but he kept staring at my legs—and it started to get creepy.

  I had to keep my eye on this doctor and hope he wasn’t assigned to my case.

  Then he stood, still looking at my legs. My investigator instinct told me this was no ordinary doctor. Sure, some psychiatrists seemed whacky themselves and could use a dose of their own medicine. Yet, something bothered me here.

  “Dr. Terry” leaned forward to whisper, “I’ve seen you around here a lot. Lovely blonde hair.”

  I pulled back and looked over his shoulder for Nurse Lindeman. With her back toward us, she looked as if she were typing at her computer.

  Ruby suddenly appeared and grinned. “Hey, Terry. How’s it hanging?”

  “Don’t ask me things like that, Ruby.” He looked at her, and then back at me. “Gray eyes. Interesting. You must be of European descent.”

  I sucked in a breath and sat straighter, ready to bolt. “Polish.” Good, I thought, if Ruby stays, I’ll feel better.

  I could see her watching us, but then she turned and walked away. Wonderful.

  His staring moved from my legs to my face. “I know.”

  Gulp.

  I got up.

  “Well—” I yawned. “I think I could sleep now. Nice meeting you—”

  “It wasn’t our first time. And I love you, Pauline.”

  Whoa, boy. I pulled back. “Good night, Terry.”

  He went to reach out to me—I assumed for a hug—but when he reached out, his clothing shifted.

  I gasped.

  Beneath his lab coat was … nothing.

  Thirteen

  Well, it wasn’t exactly nothing beneath Terry’s lab coat. It was without a doubt—something. Something any man would be proud of.

  Great.

  Just what I needed.

  A naked patient, pretending to be a doctor, shrouded in a lab coat and in love with me. Why the hell hadn’t Nurse Lindeman said something? Did all the staff here get so jaded that they thought nothing of the patients masquerading as staff?

  Okay. To cut them some slack I realized some patients’ idiosyncrasies had to be tolerated to treat them. Now what?

  Jagger! I really needed his help. I had to get in touch with him. I had to be able to make a phone call. Not only was Terry a nutcase, but also he was a bit suspicious. He knew my name! I didn’t remember telling him my name. Actually, he had introduced himself and then we’d gone off on a tangent about our schooling. I was certain now that I hadn’t introduced myself.

  He also said he’d noticed me before. I didn’t think he’d heard Nurse Lindeman and I talking to get my name. Damn. Guess this was another one of the pitfalls of working in a mental hospital. I really had to get back to work and wrap up this case or I might want to stay here longer after my mind snapped.

  Hm. Seemed “Dr.” Terry’s room might be worth checking out—when he wasn’t there. I edged toward the nurses’ station. Terry moved forward. “Okay, Ter, time for you to hit the sack. I’m sure I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He grinned, rather an evil sight. “Why not join me?”

  “That does it. Nurse! Nurse Lindeman?” I pushed past Terry and ran toward the desk. Two other staff members came from behind the desk. “He’s bothering me,” I said.

  One staff member was a young male who looked like an assistant and the other Nurse Lawson.

  She spoke first. “Terry, leave the other patients alone. Get back to your room now, or no television tomorrow.”

  I leaned forward. “You might want to remind him to dress properly or he’ll catch a cold.” Sure I knew you had to come in contact with someone who had the virus to catch a cold, but it was my subtle way of saying Terry needed some boxers.

  She clucked her tongue. “And put on your pajamas.”

  Terry turned and skulked down the hallway as the male assistant followed a few feet behind.

  I looked at Nurse Lawson. She’d taken me out to meet my “mother” the other day at the last minute when Sister Liz was called to an emergency.

  Nurse Lawson had several body piercings with lovely diamonds, about six of them, in her right earlobe. They went well with her blonde, spiked hairdo. All in all she looked friendly. I liked her from the first time we met.

  Momentarily forgetting I was supposed to be a patient here, I held out my hand to the nurse. “Thanks. Please call me Pauline Sokol. I was a nurse too.”

  She gave me a “yeah, right” look, and I figured she’d worked psych for sometime and was rather attuned to patient behavior. But she smiled pretty nicely and said, “I’m Nurse Lawson. Melissa Lawson. We met the other day, but I didn’t get to tell you my name.” She had the courtesy to shake my hand. “You’d better head off to bed now, Pauline. It’s after two.”

  Two A.M.!

  I didn’t even stay awake on New Year’s Eve until two.

  I started to turn, and then remembered I needed to talk to my partner. “Could I make one phone call, Nurse Lawson? Please.”

  She hesitated as if she was going to let me. “Since we are a private institution, some patients—very few, that is, and under the staff’s supervision—do get to make calls. But it’s very late.”

  Right. Hmm. Think fast, Pauline. “I know. My brother works the night shift over at—” I had started to say Hartford Hospital but then remembered Mary Louise wasn’t from around here. Since I was to pick her up at the airport, she’d flown in, so she must come from another state. I cleared my throat and finished with, “—his job. I feel so lonely and we are very close. My doctor at home encourages me to talk to my brother whenever I need to.” I took a step closer to engage her confidence yet not invade her personal space. “Please, Nurse Lawson. Please.” After a few silent prayers, my best begging face, and several more lies, I stood and stared at her.

  She let out a breath. “Follow me.”

  I thanked Saint Theresa that this was a private institution and the employees obviously had some leeway. Nurse Lawson led me to the doctor’s office and pressed one of the many buttons on the phone. “I have to stay with you.”

  I nodded and for a second couldn’t remember one digit of Jagger’s cell phone number. Then I told myself to be professional and the numbers flooded back. I smiled at Melissa Lawson while the phone rang three times.

  “Yeah?” His voice now sleepy and sexier than usual had me hesitate.

  “I need you. I really need you. To see you.”

  Silence.

  “I said, I need to—”

  “Damn it, Pauline. You went back.”

  Footsteps clattered along the hallway outside the office, and Nurse Lawson’s eyes grew big. “I … you have to get off the phone. Now.” She reached for the receiver, took it and shoved it down.

  Startled, I knew she was worried we’d get caught, but I couldn’t blame her. I wouldn’t risk my job for a patient like me either. I smiled at her. “Thanks.”

  Jagger would come.

  He would come.

  On the way out, we ran into Nurse Lindeman in the hallway. She looked at us oddly and said, “Pauline, you have to go to your room now. Get some sleep or just rest.”

  I feared she might try to medicate me, and my tongue was too tired for any acrobatics so I nodded and turned toward the wing where my room was. Once there, I looked into the bathroom, behind the furniture and in every corner for someone hiding there—or for Terry.

  Finding it safe, I flopped onto the be
d and snuggled under the covers. Terry. Suddenly Terry became a real concern. A real possibility. A real threat.

  Could it have been Terry in my room that night I was sent off to Rain Tree Forest La-La Land? That would mean no one was after me—at least in this place. But wait. The white van. My tired brain became too confused, so I shut my eyes and heard Jagger’s voice in my ear.

  He’d called me Pauline. His serious name for me.

  Yikes.

  The next morning came way too soon. While I yanked my blanket higher, I heard Spike’s voice. “Up and at ’em, Pauline. You miss breakfast and you don’t eat until lunch. This ain’t a hotel.”

  I peeked at him through one lifted eyelid. He looked enormous. I had to force myself to get up, which I did, all the while mumbling that I was sorry—even though I had no idea what for—so he wouldn’t manhandle me.

  Thank goodness he left while I washed up and brushed my teeth. Gigantic circles, dark as eclipses, had formed under my eyes. I needed some miracle facial cream but in this place would more than likely have to settle for Vaseline. I hurried out of my room and toward the dining room, hopeful that Terry had slept in today.

  Why the heck didn’t they keep the men and women separate in this place?

  Guessing it would be too expensive to build two of everything, I found an empty seat next to Ruby and took my napkin off the table.

  She stared at me. “You look like shit.”

  “Thanks.” I managed a chuckle. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  Ignoring my explanation, she took a sip of her black coffee and looked at me over the mug.

  “Oh, hey, Ruby. I’m thinking of changing doctors. How’s yours?”

  “Fine.”

  Typical teenage response. “Who is she?”

  “How’d you know it was a she?”

  Oops. “I heard the nurses talking. You like her?”

  “I’ve had better. But she’s square.”

  I’m guessing she didn’t mean Dr. De Jong was a geek. “Square” seemed to be a term kids used nowadays to mean something was okay. “Good. Been seeing her long?”