Malpractice in Maggody

by Joan Hess

  “So I’m supposed to screw her in the sauna to boost her self-esteem?”

  “No, none of that,” Vincent said, clearly alarmed. “No one on the staff should have anything more than a strictly professional relationship with the patients.” He paused to think. “Walter, arrange for a maid or orderly to be in the exercise room whenever Dawn is there. I’ll make a point of stopping by to encourage Dawn in her efforts. That should suffice.”

  Walter gave him a limp salute. “Yes, sir.”

  Vincent glared at him, then said, “Are there any other issues to be discussed? Any complaints about the maids and orderlies? No? Well, then, I’ll see all of you in the morning.” He picked up the champagne bottle and left.

  Molly stood up. “I guess I’ll run along home. Y’all have a nice night.”

  Walter winked at Randall, then followed Molly out of the room.

  “Why did you hire him?” Randall demanded, his lip curled. “He smokes pot every night in his room; I can smell it next door. He probably does other drugs, too.”

  Brenda carefully closed the files and made a neat pile of them. “I owed him a favor. Besides, he’s very good at what he does. I know I couldn’t persuade Dibbins to lift a pinkie, much less do any exercises.”

  “What’s his background?” Randall persisted. “Is he really a licensed physical trainer? Where was he certified?”

  “You’ll have to read his résumé. I’m sure Miss Foss will be happy to find it for you. She seems to be an obliging young woman with a heart of gold. It’s unfortunate that her office skills are less glittery. I told Vincent months ago that I knew someone who could fill the position, but he hired her without consulting me. I suppose she must have done something to impress him, although not behind a desk. Under it is more likely.”

  “You’re not implying they’ve had sex, are you? She’s married, for pity’s sake.”

  “Your naïveté underwhelms me, Randall.” Brenda gathered up the files and went to the door. “I’ll be in my office should you care to discuss this further. Good night.”

  Randall remained in the room for a long while, thinking about what Brenda had said. She was plainly jealous of Molly’s attractiveness and innocent charm. Randall was certainly not oblivious to them. Molly deserved to be admired, and even cherished. The idea of Brenda belittling her made Randall very, very angry.

  He was not the only inhabitant of the Stonebridge Foundation who was harboring dark thoughts that night.

  When the phone rang on Friday morning, I stared at it as if it were a coiled rattlesnake. It could have been Ruby Bee, demanding that I hustle over to the bar & grill so she could lecture me about my failings as a daughter, a police officer, or a potential breeder whose biological clock was beginning to hiccup. Or Jack, calling to say that we’d have to cancel our plans for the weekend, or even Mrs. Jim Bob, squawking about speeders in front of her house or kids playing in the creek at the back of her yard. Or Sheriff Harvey Dorfer, with some icky assignment that none of his deputies would touch with a twenty-foot pole.

  I finally picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”

  Alas, it was Harve, perpetual purveyor of ill tidings. “I reckon we got us a problem, Arly,” he began genially.

  “What do you mean ‘we,’ kemo sabe?”

  “You gettin’ your jokes out of old issues of Reader’s Digest? This is serious stuff. A woman was killed last night out at that Stonebridge place.”

  “That’s a damn shame, Harve,” I said, “but it’s not my jurisdiction. I hope this won’t spoil your weekend.”

  “It ain’t gonna spoil my weekend. Do you want to do this over the telephone, or here in my office? The coffee’s worse than pond water, but the doughnuts are fresh—or at least they were on Wednesday.”

  I put my feet on the corner of my desk, rocked back, and in a less than amiable voice said, “What happened?”

  “Hard to say. We got a call shortly after four this morning. The night guard, a Mexican fellow, found the woman’s body on the grounds—in a fountain, to be precise. McBeen said it looked like she drowned, but won’t swear to it until he does a preliminary autopsy. He also said there weren’t any obvious signs she’d been sexually assaulted. Dr. Stonebridge was more agitated than a rabid ’coon, said we couldn’t disturb the patients or question anybody until this morning. I couldn’t see much point in it, either, so I left a couple of deputies to keep the scene secured. Now I’ve got a fistful of messages from the head of the county commission to keep this out of the media until we figure out what-all happened. Seems he has connections with everybody from the district prosecutor to the state attorney general. There’s a lot of money in play. Pity none of it’s coming my way. I’m thinking it’d be nice to buy a little cabin on one of the lakes for when I retire.”

  “Anytime soon?” I asked optimistically.

  “Don’t start planning to redecorate my office, missy. Raz Buchanon would get more votes than a girl in khaki britches, especially one who used to live in New York City. You want to wager on your chances or hear about this case?”

  “Was the victim one of the patients?”

  “I wish it was that easy.” Harve paused long enough to light a cigar, then went on. “A young gal from Starley City, name of Molly Foss. She was the receptionist. We notified her husband this morning. As soon as he identified the body at the morgue, he was all set to go out there with a shotgun. We talked him out it for the time being. That ain’t to say he’s gonna sit home with a hankie, at least not for long.”

  “I don’t suppose she committed suicide,” I said.

  “It’s darn near impossible to drown yourself in four inches of water. McBeen said there was some bruising on the back of her neck. Most likely she was held down.”

  I had a foreboding about my weekend plans with Jack. His children were leaving that afternoon for a church trip to a theme park, and wouldn’t be home until Sunday. We’d already agreed on the menu, rental movies, CDs, and wine list. Scrabble was definitely on the schedule. “It’s not my jurisdiction,” I repeated (or bleated, to be more accurate). “I hope Mrs. Dorfer’s not too disappointed when you can’t take her to the arts and crafts fair in Mount Ida.”

  Harve harrumphed. “She’s going with her sister. I’m going fishing with my brother-in-law. Afterward, we’re going to grill T-bone steaks and watch baseball. You, on the other hand, are going to look into this. If we don’t figure it out by Monday morning, the county commissioner is gonna serve my balls on a platter at the next meeting. I hear the patients out there are crazier than loons. It may not take you more than a hour or two to get a confession.”

  “I have an hour or two, Harve, but ’long about three o’clock this afternoon, I’m putting away my badge and heading for the state line.”

  “Then it’s settled. Dr. Stonebridge doesn’t want his patients and staff to get all upset, so wear civilian clothes. Les will be there in about ten minutes to drive you over. Go through the main gate and around to a parking lot in the back. The doctor’s waiting for you there.”

  “Ten minutes? Sounds as though you’ve got this all figured out, you conniving bastard. What were you going to do if I was over in Belle Star, stalking lowly fish-nappers?”

  “I would have tracked you down, sooner or later.”

  He hung up before I could respond. I replaced the receiver, took off my badge and tossed it into a drawer, and went into the back room to unplug the coffeemaker. At least I’d find out what was going on inside the Stonebridge Foundation, I thought as I headed outside to wait for Les. And I had every intention of keeping my date in Springfield, even if it meant the victim had to spend a few extra days in the morgue.

  When Les arrived, I got into his car and said, “Tell me what you know.”

  He shrugged. “Not much. Sheriff Dorfer called me at four-fifteen and told me to pick him up at his house. I don’t think he was real happy about being dragged out of bed, but neither was I. When we got to the place, a guard was waiting at the gate. We followed
him around to the back, where there’s a big garden with benches and paths and that kind of shit. Some guy named Stonebridge was waiting for us.”

  “Anybody else?”

  “A woman, kinda bulky and with a scowl that could turn a freight train up a dirt road. Stonebridge was skittery, but she was cool, considering there was a dead body lying on the grass. McBeen and his boys showed up, made the official call, and had the body removed. Woman, early twenties, blond, not more than five-four, hundred and twenty pounds max, big boobs, probably a cheerleader in high school. You know the kind.”

  “I wasn’t a cheerleader,” I said.

  “Neither was I,” Les said with a smirk. “Anyway, I mostly stood around while the sheriff, Stonebridge, and the woman conferred out of earshot. Eventually they came to some kind of agreement, and Sheriff Dorfer told me and Palsy to stay there the rest of the night. He called me on my cell a few minutes ago and told me to come pick you up. That’s about it.”

  “So the body had been pulled out of the fountain before you got there?” I asked. “Was anybody else around? Lights on inside the place?”

  “Just a few in the part of the building where the doctors have their bedrooms and offices. The patients’ rooms are in the front, so I’d be surprised if they knew anything had happened.” He paused. “Except for maybe one of them.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “Any idea why they’re there?”

  “Nobody told me much of anything, Arly.” He stopped at the gate and pushed the button on the box. After he’d identified himself, the gate swung open and we drove around back to a small parking lot. There were a couple of nondescript cars, an aged Volkswagen camper adorned with bumper stickers and dents, and two dusty vans. At the far side was a fenced pen restraining the dog I’d met earlier. “Dr. Stonebridge said he’ll be waiting for you by the fountain. I’m going home to get some sleep.”

  “You’re just going to drop me off and leave?”

  “Sheriff’s orders. You got a problem with that, call him at your own risk.”

  I watched Les drive away, then went though a small gate. The new additions matched the exterior of the old building. What had been neglected pasture a month earlier was now an elaborate green space, with manicured grass, pines and flowering trees, brick paths, and beds of bright flowers. Although I was sadly ignorant of the cost of landscaping, I could see that big bucks had been spent. I wondered if the birds and butterflies had been purchased, or just leased for the summer.

  The only person I could see was a man skimming the pool with a long-handled net. Doubting that the exalted doctor stooped to such pedestrian chores, I went down a path. After a bit of meandering, I spotted a silver-haired man sitting on a bench near a fountain. I couldn’t tell if he was mourning, thinking, or napping, so I approached quietly and waited until he looked up.

  “Dr. Stonebridge? I’m Arly Hanks,” I said, “the chief of police in Maggody.”

  “Ah, yes,” he murmured. “Sheriff Dorfer said you were coming. A dreadful business, this. Miss Foss was a charming young woman. We are all deeply distressed by her unfortunate death.”

  “I understand it was a bit more than unfortunate.”

  He stood up and came over to me. His complexion was almost gray, either from grief or exhaustion, but I noted that he had found time to shave and put on a freshly pressed white medical coat. He studied my face as he clasped my hand and squeezed it with avuncular tenderness. “I do hope you were told about the necessity of protecting our patients from undue alarm. They are all quite sensitive at this stage in their rehabilitation, and I cannot allow them to be upset by any sort of unnecessary intrusion.”

  I forced myself to respond calmly. “There’s been a murder on the grounds, Dr. Stonebridge. We can’t ignore it for the sake of their therapy.” I gestured at the fountain, where a marble cherub clutched a vase of dribbling water. “Is this where Miss Foss’s body was found?”

  “Yes,” he said, gazing at it with a bleak smile. “The orderly on the night shift came out here to have a cigarette. None of the employees are supposed to smoke on the premises, but I find it best to be tolerant. As soon as he saw the body, he roused me. Once I saw what had happened, I called Sheriff Dorfer.”

  “I’ll need to speak to the orderly,” I said.

  “Of course, but you may find it a challenge unless you speak Spanish.”

  I didn’t care for the smugness with which he said this, and I didn’t much care for him, either. Presumably he had the required education and credentials, but the capped teeth, perfect hair, and condescending manner were a bit too much for me to swallow. “Is he Mexican?”

  “All of the employees are, with the exception of the chef and his crew. It’s a matter of economics. Very few people are willing to work for minimum wage these days. We supply free living arrangements and an allowance for food. That way, most of them are able to send money home to their families.”

  “How magnanimous of you,” I said drily. “I’ll need some information about Miss Foss, as well as everyone who works here and your patients.”

  Dr. Stonebridge shook his head. “Miss Foss, the employees, and the staff, certainly, but doctor-patient confidentiality must be protected. In any case, there’s no way any of the patients could have knowledge of what took place. They are sedated in the evening to ensure they get proper rest. The culprit is most likely to be someone local who breached security.”

  “What kind of security?”

  “Two orderlies are on duty at night from eight o’clock until six in the morning. One is armed and uses a trained guard dog to patrol the grounds. The front gates are locked, and no one on the night shift is allowed to open them without consulting Dr. Skiller or me. No matter how carefully one prepares for every contingency, however, there is always a possibility that someone found a way inside.”

  “I’ll get a translator out here as soon as possible. Why don’t you tell me what happened last night? Did Miss Foss usually work late?”

  “Her hours were eight to five, with Saturday afternoons and Sundays off. Last night we had a staff meeting to evaluate our progress thus far, and I asked Molly—Miss Foss—to stay late in case she had anything to contribute. She and I had a light supper in my apartment before the meeting; I believe the others—”

  “The others being?” I interrupted, mainly to annoy him.

  “Dr. Zumi, our resident psychiatrist, and Dr. Skiller, who is a psychologist who specializes in nutrition and herbal remedies. I believe you’ve met them. Walter Kaiser is a personal trainer.”

  “And your specialty?”

  “I am a dermatological and plastic surgeon. I had a very lucrative practice in the Los Angeles area before coming here to open the Stonebridge Foundation.”

  I’d met a few of his ilk in Manhattan, and I hadn’t liked any of them. Dr. Stonebridge was no exception. “So why did you come here?”

  He began to pace slowly around the fountain, his fingers templed and his expression thoughtful. “This is the culmination of my dreams, Miss Hanks—or may I call you Arly?” When I shrugged, he smiled and continued. “Sadly, there are some well-known people who fall victim to various addictions. Because of their notoriety, they are fearful of seeking help. Here in this primitive backwoods, they know they are safe from unwanted media exposure. We offer a variety of therapies to suit each individual so that they can battle their inner demons and return to the public sphere.”

  “This is a charitable institution? Nonprofit?”

  He looked at me. “Not precisely. As you can see, we’ve invested a great deal of capital in the structure and grounds. Our staff-to-patient ratio is better than three to one, which you cannot find in a large, impersonal setting. Every patient has an exquisitely decorated suite and a therapy program based on their individual needs. This level of care is not inexpensive.”

  I would have bet the farm on that. “Please continue with last night. What happened after the staff meeting?”

  “I wish I knew. Miss Foss said she was
leaving, but it’s possible she decided to stay and catch up on paperwork. I myself retired to make phone calls, leaving the others in the day room. Later I put on a Bach CD, had a glass or two of brandy, and caught up on some medical journals. I believe it was about midnight when I went to bed.”

  “You didn’t see anyone after the meeting?”

  “Regrettably, I did not. As for the others, you’ll have to ask them. Dr. Skiller is waiting for you at the reception desk to show you what to do. You’ll have to question the others when you have a break.”

  “A break?” I said.

  “Didn’t Sheriff Dorfer explain? In order to avoid upsetting the patients, you will assume Miss Foss’s responsibilities. You can file, can’t you?”

  “I can file my nails, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Hardly,” he said with an amused look. “Have you never gone undercover before?”

  “No, and I never intend to.” This was not strictly true. I certainly intended to spend a good deal of the weekend under the covers.

  “My dear Arly,” he murmured. “It’s all been arranged with the good sheriff.”

  “The good sheriff can take his arrangements and put them where the sun don’t shine,” I said, lapsing into the local vernacular. “You just tell the other doctors and the personal trainer to meet me in this day room. After I’ve interviewed them, I’ll send for a translator and tackle the Mexican employees.”

  “We cannot disrupt the routine. Dr. Zumi has private counseling sessions throughout the day; in fact, he’s in one now. Dr. Skiller oversees the dietary concerns, orders, and deliveries, and does yoga and other alternative treatments. Walter is already in the gym with one of the patients. Physical fitness is a necessity to relieve stress and channel our patients’ energy in a more productive manner. If all of them were pulled away at one time, our patients would realize that something is going on and become quite agitated. Nor can the maids and orderlies fail to carry out their daily tasks. Bed linens must be changed, suites cleaned, hallways kept gleaming.”