by Lori Avocato
I grinned all the way down the hallway.
When we got to the exam room, the door was closed. Before Jagger could open the door, Vinny came bounding out.
“Oh, hey, Doc. This room is in use. You can use the one on Ward 200B. It’s down the hallway and to the right. No locked doors in between. It’s part of the same unit, but the more … sicker patients are kept there.”
“Thanks,” Jagger said, taking my arm.
I heard a female’s snicker. Apparently Vinny was using the exam room.
I smiled at Vinny and followed along like the ever consummate, cooperative psych patient that I’d become.
When we got to the end of the hallway, I realized I’d never ventured this far, thinking all the doors were locked. Then it hit me: the sicker patients?
“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow and stay on Ward 200. Plain old 200?”
Jagger shook his head—twice.
“Hey, you’re the one who can come and go around here. They get me on Ward 200B, and they might make me a permanent resident.”
He chuckled. “What? Are you afraid they’ll think you are a bit … different, Sherlock?”
I looked around to make sure no staff was watching and slapped Jagger’s arm. “No, Jag, I’m not. Oh, hell. I … yes, I am. Do you know what it’s like to be wrapped in wet sheets like a mummy?”
Suddenly, he had me in his arms. The feel of his heart next to mine nearly had me drop to the floor. Instead I struggled on wobbly legs. Jagger gently stroked my hair and whispered, “I’m really sorry about that, Sherlock. Really sorry.”
I knew he meant that he wasn’t around to stop it, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that the sheets were a bit comforting and at least not as bad as I’d thought it would be.
Instead, I leaned closer to him and said, “It was horrible. The worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
His kiss came softly, gently, as if stealing into the night. Before we could continue, a door clicked shut in the distance—and Jagger released me.
It was well worth my little white lie.
Jagger guided me down the hallway, following Vinny’s suggestion and instructing Nurse Lawson to make sure we had time to talk uninterrupted. She agreed and as we headed down the corridor, a woman’s scream filled the air.
I froze.
Jagger yanked at me and said, “Ignore it. The staff will take care of her.”
But before we could get past Room 201, the door swung open and a pillow flew out, hitting Jagger in the back of the head. If it were a much heavier object, I wouldn’t have laughed.
Suddenly I sobered when the culprit came out the door shouting.
Mary Louise Huntington!
Jagger’s grasp on my arm tightened.
I grew faint at the comparison of her standing there in the johnny coat, which I no longer wore since getting my Burberry outfit, her hair as messy as mine, and her face, a bit younger (which I attributed to a more expensive facial cream than I could afford), but very similar to mine.
Way too similar.
She started to curse at me—mostly incoherently. I figured the Green Demon had visited Mary Louise too.
Jagger ignored her and pulled me toward the exam room.
Once inside the room, he grabbed the stool with his foot, yanked it over and sat. “Sit down.” It came out very much like an order and I wondered if Jagger was just as shocked as I was.
Then I looked at him.
“She was here all the time.” I sank onto the exam table as the accusatory words came out. “And you knew it.”
Jagger stared, but there was no look of apology in his eyes. “She fell into my lap for this case, Sherlock.”
“Call me Pauline.”
“I needed to get into this place to crack this fraud ring and when I saw her picture in a file on Dr. Pinkerton’s desk, I knew you would be perfect for this job.
“Not because of my skills?”
He ignored that and continued, “Mary Louise was brought here from Minneapolis. She’s a convicted felon who got off with an insanity plea. Her family had her transferred here because her brother worked here and they thought he could keep an eye out for her.” He rolled closer. “Vito was her brother.”
I gasped.
“But you should have told me she was here—”
“She wasn’t.”
“Mary Louise might know who killed Vito,” I mumbled more to myself than to Jagger, as if I wanted his approval.
I felt him touch my hand. “I’m proud of you, Sherlock.”
Do not let that be your undoing! I shouted in my head. I was still angry with Jagger for all of this.
“Does she know you? Did she recognize you?”
He shook his head.
“But, unfortunately, Pauline, I’m sure she recognized you.”
Twenty-three
Jagger continued to explain how Mary Louise was to come to the Institute with me. It had been a perfect plan to get me on the inside and once there, disguised as a patient, I’d be free to investigate with no one the wiser. Jagger would have given me a fake patient ID, and Mary Louise would be safely admitted nowhere near me. But Vito, dressed up like a nun, had interfered.
Why?
Did he know something about the fraud ring and that’s why he was trying to stop his sister from coming here? Or, was he just trying to free her? Help her escape? Had he planned to drug me or was it all on the spur of the moment to save his sister? Blood is thicker than water and all.
Jagger swore that he’d followed Vito to make sure I got here safely.
I wasn’t sure if I was angry at that or glad. Go figure.
Jagger thought the fact that Mary Louise and I looked so much alike would be a benefit. Now, we weren’t sure.
Vito was dead.
We had no idea how much Mary Louise knew—and I still resembled her.
Someone could confuse us. Easily.
I could see the cogs working in Jagger’s brain. He’d taken out his usual toothpick and started to chew on it. I wondered if he wished it were a cigarette.
“Did you used to smoke? Cigarettes?”
He looked at me as if I really did belong here. “Long time ago.”
“During the Gulf War?” That had been a sore subject with Jagger and Nick. They’d known each other, flown together, and separated from the service as adversaries. After hearing about their story, I’d assumed it had all been too much for them to handle, and since they both went into the investigative field, they were way too similar to get along.
“What does this have to do with the case, Pauline?” He threw the toothpick into the wastebasket.
“Nothing. I was only curious.”
“Then be curious about what we are going to do. Mary Louise could have a coherent moment … ”
Not if the Green Demon has its way.
I knew Jagger was talking, but fear had my ears shut. I really didn’t want to hear that my life was in more danger—again. I’d gotten over that with Vito dying and Ruby gone. I felt safer with Jagger around and now he was tearing away that wall of safety.
Then again, Jagger didn’t talk idly. He really must have been concerned about my knowing Mary Louise was here—although he hadn’t given me any details of how that happened—and what she’d do now that she knew I was here.
Jagger had walked me safely back to Ward 200 and turned me over to the evening nurse, Ms.Lindeman. She made sure I got to my room and to bed as “Dr. Dick” had ordered.
“Good night, Pauline,” she said and left the door ajar.
I wished it could be closed all the way and locked. But that was against policy around here. I focused on the light coming from the hallway, and my body felt as if I’d drunk ten cups of coffee. But I knew I was worried about the case, Mary Louise and my future with my grandkids.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, since I woke before the sun was up. Not a very restful night. After tossing about until the muscles of my legs ached, I decided to
get up. I put on my new robe and smiled.
I really missed my family and friends.
Funny how it had only been a few days, but being locked in this place made it seem like forever. I said a silent prayer for all the patients, brushed my teeth and hair and went out to walk the hallways.
A new nun was at the desk. Actually, she was probably here before, but since I didn’t make a habit of leaving my room during the middle of the night, I’d never met her. I walked closer to the desk.
She shuffled some papers about. “Yes?”
I smiled, but she didn’t look at me. “I’m Pauline Sokol. Just wanted to say hello.”
The nun looked up. “It’s four fifteen in the morning, Pauline. You should be asleep.” She stuck the papers inside a large file.
“I … I did sleep, and now—” I laughed. “That’s it for me for tonight. Maybe I had too much caffeine,” I said, and then laughed.
She smiled. “I’m Sister Janet. Just don’t turn on the TV and wake anyone else up. I have too much work to do and need to finish it by morning. You can walk around outside your room if you are quiet.”
I nodded and pretended to lock my lips and throw away the key as Uncle Walt used to do. When we were kids, he’d say his “noise box” was full and we all needed to lock up. I smiled to myself and turned to walk down the hallway.
I really missed my jogging, so I walked back and forth and around and around. Not a soul was up besides me and the small staff from the night shift. Sister Janet had seemed very nice, I thought, as I rounded the corner and landed directly in front of Ward 200B.
For a second I hesitated. There was no good reason for me to go through the doors. Mary Louise had to be asleep right now and more than likely highly medicated after her pillow incident.
“Move along,” a voice said from behind.
I turned to see a night orderly, carrying a stack of sheets. Looked heavy.
“Oh, here, let me get the door,” I said and held it open. Before I could step back, he had me grabbing at sheets as the pile started to shift and the door closed.
“Damn it!” he said. “I got it. Go back to your room.”
I started to turn and heard a faint noise, actually music like from a radio, coming from the direction of Room 201. Mary Louise must be awake and listening to it.
I smiled at the orderly, who couldn’t care less as he went down the hallway with his lopsided bundle. In the distance someone shouted and two other patients screamed out. I said another prayer for all of them and added I was thankful that I wasn’t on this ward.
Then I walked closer to Mary Louise’s room.
Maybe, that is if she didn’t freak out when she saw me, I could get some info out of her. Maybe learn more about her brother. I paused at the doorway and listened to the radio commentator’s soft voice announcing the next song. He’d put me to sleep if I listened to him. Gingerly, I pushed the half-closed door open.
I touched my taser bracelet, which I would use if absolutely necessary, but sure didn’t want to. “Mary Louise?” I whispered ready to bolt if she aimed a pillow or something harder at me.
Silence.
The room was dark except for the dim lights from the hallway. As the radio played a soft instrumental with lots of strings, I tried to get closer. “I came to talk to you, Mary Louise.” I waited, not wanting to wake her and startle her.
No reply.
I sighed and turned. No way would I wake up a sleeping psychiatric patient who was a convicted felon. Jagger never did tell me what Mary Louise had done—and I figured he really didn’t want me to know. Because then I might bolt out of this job.
When I got to the door, I took the handle to open it further.
“Then talk,” Mary Louise said in the darkness.
Not expecting her to be awake, I jumped. I realized psych patients “played ’possum” very well. Slowly I stepped back and closed the door more. If I shut it all the way, any staff member walking by would surely be suspicious.
She lay in bed, restrained like a madwoman. My heart slowed and I felt like yanking her free until I realized she probably could hurt herself or someone else—like me.
“Oh. Hi. My name is Pauline.”
She curled her lips as if to say, “I already knew that.”
I stepped back and told myself not to try and second-guess a mentally ill patient. Also, not to get too close.
“What the hell do you want?”
Her voice sounded quite coherent but then again, I really had never had a real conversation with her. Still, the tone sounded much like it had in the airport. So, I had to conclude that her medication might be just about wearing off by now. I summoned my long ago repressed psych training.
“Look, Mary Louise, I’m sorry about your brother.”
She remained silent. Then a low laugh started in her chest. Both hands were shackled to the bed rails on each side. I noticed her fingers twitch.
“Vito’s dead.”
“Yes. I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Why?” She looked at me now with a glassy stare. “Did you kill him?”
I stepped back more. “No. Absolutely not. I was hoping you could tell me who did.” I moved closer. “Do you have any idea why someone would want to hurt your brother? Or who would?”
“Hurt? He’s dead, you bitch.”
Maybe the Green Demon still swam in Mary Louise’s system. “Sorry.”
Her fingers moved more swiftly. “He saved me … and I couldn’t help him.”
“He saved you from prison?”
Her head spun sideways. The Exorcist came to mind, but it stopped short of a three-sixty turn.
“Of course from prison.” She laughed.
I quickly looked at the door. Thank goodness no one came in. I softened my voice, hoping she’d get the hint, and moved near the bed.
“You look familiar,” she said.
Not wanting to go into details of our similarities or remind her that she’d met me before and jog her memory to an unhealthy place, I ignored her statement and said, “So your brother took you from the airport so you wouldn’t have to go to prison?”
“Or here.”
Damn. Not a veritable font of information. Reddish rays of sunlight peeked above the trees outside and I knew I had to hurry and get out of there. I’d be in more than wet sheets if I was found breaking the rule about no patients in others’ rooms. “Mary Louise, tell me if you know anything about who killed your brother. Did you know he was in on a fraud ring?”
She started to laugh.
I started to tell her to be quiet.
And the door started to open.
Damn.
I looked at her and figured if I was going to get punished, I might as well make it worth it. “Did he tell you about people being brought here that were not really sick?” I spoke so fast she probably thought I was using a foreign language.
The door swung all the way open.
Mary Louise stopped laughing and said, “Sure. He made a bundle on that scam,” while a stuffed elephant peeked at us from the doorway.
Joanna.
Darling Joanna, I thought as I hurried out, careful not to knock her and Dumbo over. She stood there shaking him at me like some voodoo doll.
I only hoped she wasn’t allowed to have pins in this joint.
Thankfully Ward 200 had come to life with the rays of the sun. As I walked down the hallway, several patients milled about and I figured they were heading to eat breakfast. Maybe I could make it there on time today.
With the little sleep I’d gotten though, I had to keep my wits about me. The info from Mary Louise could pole-vault this case forward.
Despite my hunger, I had to talk to Jagger.
I hurried to the nurses’ station to see the usual staff on duty. Sister Liz was heading out the backdoor, most likely on dining-room watch. Sister Barbie stood with a tray of pills in her hand, Novitiate Lalli right beside her.
Not wanting them to see me and give me the Green
Demon, I pulled back. I’d lost faith in my ability to not swallow after the sneeze incident.
They, too, walked out the backdoor. Nurse Melissa Lawson sat there, reading someone’s chart. Hopefully not mine, although it was probably a doozie of a read.
“Excuse me, Nurse Lawson,” I whispered.
She looked up. “What’s wrong with your voice, Pauline?”
“Oh. Nothing. Just, I don’t want to wake anyone up.”
She looked at me as if I were either crazy or deaf, since the unit buzzed with noisy, hungry patients.
“I need my doctor. Now.”
“Why?”
Damn it. Couldn’t these nurses just do as the patients requested? I couldn’t come up with a quick enough lie.
She waved at me. “Go. Eat your breakfast. Dr. Plummer will be on his rounds soon. I’m sure it can wait.” She waved me off again.
Having avoided some ancient psychiatric punishment once already this morning, I told myself she was right and headed to the dining hall. I’d see Jagger soon enough.
Margaret was sitting next to Mason. Great. There wasn’t a seat next to them, since Margaret was on the end and one of the “Jo’s” sat next to her. Callie Jo was from New Orleans, I’d learned from her once.
I quickly got my tray of watery eggs, white toast and OJ, and then sat next to her. I wondered if she really was Callie Jo right now. Once Ruby had told me that Callie Jo had come here with the problem of thinking she was Patty Jo, Bobby Jo and Mavis Jo, whom I actually liked talking to, since she was an elderly Southern woman who’d been through the war—the Civil War. Patty Jo was only three years old and difficult to understand with her Southern drawl, and Bobby Jo was a teenage boy who didn’t talk to adults. I wondered what the heck Callie Jo had been through in her life to cause her illness.
I sat next to her and looked at Margaret and Mason. “Hey. Good morning.”
They both nodded and Mason said, “We had the same van driver. Tall, very built and not too bright. First a nun led us to the van, but she didn’t drive. He did.”
“Spike?” I asked in horror.
Margaret took a bite of toast. “We’re not sure. He had on a white shirt and white pants. And a Red Sox baseball cap. I couldn’t see his face and neither could Mason. But we agreed he acted very rudely.”
