Hideaway Hospital Murders

by Robert Burton Robinson

  “Jake, grab that bag and start handcuffing them,” said Carnie.

  “Is that really necessary? What if there’s a fire?” said Marcia.

  “Then you’re toast,” said Carnie.

  Jake picked up the bag, walked over to Carnie and talked softly to her with his back to the women. “Do we really need to handcuff them? They’re not going anywhere.”

  “Not as long as somebody’s holding a gun on them. But how about at 3:00 AM when you fall asleep?”

  Jake walked over to Betsy’s bed, set the bag down on her nightstand and pulled out a set of handcuffs. He cuffed her right wrist to the stainless steel bedrail and then went to Ellen’s bed.

  “Jake? Both hands,” said Carnie.

  “Ah, come on!” said Betsy.

  “I think you’ll find that your stay here will be more enjoyable if you learn speak to me in the proper tone of voice,” said Carnie.

  Jake had just handcuffed Betsy’s other wrist when Carnie walked over to her bed and slapped her hard in the face.

  It gave Betsy such an adrenalin rush, she tried yank the bedrails free and slam them together like crash cymbals against the sides of Carnie’s head. But the only thing she accomplished was to bruise her wrists.

  While Jake handcuffed the other women, Carnie walked to the table that had medical supplies sitting on top of it. She picked up four syringes and four vials. She walked to Betsy’s bed and prepared to give her an injection.

  As Carnie prepped Betsy’s arm for the shot, Betsy said, “What is that?”

  “Just something to help you rest,” said Carnie. “It won’t hurt you.”

  “How do you know? Are you a doctor?”

  “No. But I’m a Registered Nurse. Or at least I used to be,” said Carnie.

  “I need to pee before you put me to sleep,” said Ellen.

  “No, you don’t,” said Carnie. “I’m going to catheterize you.”

  Jake winced. He definitelywouldn’t be helping with that.

  **********

  Elmo and Macy spoke softly so they wouldn’t wake up Mallie Mae in the back seat. They were about an hour from home.

  “I can’t wait to tell Mom the good news,” said Elmo.

  “Hey—you called her Mom,” said Macy.

  “Yeah. I guess I’m already getting used to it,” said Elmo.

  “You can’t wait to tell her what? About breaking up with Carsie…or about us?”

  “Both. And I can’t remember the last time I was excited about sharing anything with her. She’s like the brat who pops your birthday balloons. She always finds a way to spoil your party. But this time I think it will be different. I really think she’ll be happy for me. For us.”

  “I think so too.” Macy wanted to scream with delight.

  “Just think about it, Macy—what it would be like to live in a house without tension. A house where we all love each other and we’re all happy.”

  “It would be wonderful,” said Macy.

  “Yes.” He smiled at her. “Wonderful.”

  Chapter28

  Greg had looked down every isle in Wal-Mart, but could not find Beverly. Cynthia was waiting near her mother’s car in case she showed up out there.

  Finally Greg went to customer service and asked that Beverly be paged. While he was waiting, he noticed a display of flashlights and decided to buy two large ones and some batteries.

  There was no response from the page.

  By the time he made it back to Beverly’s car, Cynthia was getting frantic. “Where could she be?”

  “I don’t know.” He handed Cynthia a flashlight and then clicked his on and began to shine it in and around the car. Then he checked underneath.

  “Oh. This is not good,” he said.

  “What?”

  “There’s a set a keys under here.”

  “Mom’skeys?”

  “I don’t know.” He stretched out on the pavement and reached under the car to retrieve the keys.

  “Are these hers?” He held them up.

  Cynthia reached down and took the keys and shined her flashlight on them.

  “Yes, these are her keys. Greg, she must have been kidnapped.”

  Greg stood up. “It kinda looks that way. But why would anyone kidnap her? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Cynthia walked over to one of the cops who were working the murder scene. Greg followed her.

  “Sir, can you please help me? I think my mother has been kidnapped,” said Cynthia.

  The cop yelled over his shoulder, “Captain, we’ve got another one over here.”

  He turned back to Cynthia. “So, she came here by herself and her car’s still here, but you can’t find her?”

  “That’s right,” said Cynthia.

  “Was somebody else kidnapped too?” said Greg.

  “Marcia Cleggmore,” said the cop.

  Cynthia and Greg knew who that was. Everybody knew about the Cleggmores—the wealthiest family in town.

  “And somebody else is missing too,” said the cop.

  Is that what Beverly would be to the cops—just another somebody? Cynthia wondered.

  The officer took down the information, and told Cynthia they would be on the lookout for her mother, but she would need to go down to the station and fill out a formal missing persons report as well.

  Obviously, the cops would use every tool at their disposal to find Mrs. Cleggmore, Cynthia thought. After that, they might make an effort to find Beverly.

  “Sorry, ma’am, but I’ve got to get back,” said the cop. He turned and walked away.

  “Isn’t that the mayor?” said Greg.

  “Yes,” said Cynthia. “And look—that’s Alexander Cleggmore talking to him. The only chance of them finding Mom is if she’s with Marcia Cleggmore.”

  “Wait a second,” said Greg. “The woman who was murder was stabbed, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s what they said.”

  “Nancie Jo Gristel was stabbed to death.”

  “Right…”

  “What if it’s the same killer? It’s kind of similar.”

  “Yeah. These are older women, like Nancie Jo,” said Cynthia.

  “Remember that car I saw yesterday at the copy shop? The one with that bumper sticker I’d never seen before?”

  “The one you thought might be the murderer’s car because of what Nancie Jo’s neighbor said? But there’s something wrong with that man. He probably didn’t know what he was talking about.”

  “But what if he did? What if that wasthe murderer’s car?”

  “Even if it was, how does that help us find Mom?”

  “Maybe the killer paid with a credit card, or accidentally left something there, or threw something in the trash.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Sweetie, right now we don’t have anyclues. And they’renot doing anything to find her,” he said, nodding in the direction of the growing crowd of cops, city officials, and Cleggmores.

  Cynthia saw Alexander Cleggmore waving his arms and yelling at the police chief.

  “Okay, I guess it’s worth a shot,” said Cynthia. “But won’t the copy shop already be closed? It’s after 9:00.”

  **********

  Hadley and his brother were sitting on Horatio’s back porch staring across the moonlit yard. Occasionally, Horatio’s hunting dogs would start barking at something, and he would yell at them. The front and back doors were open. But the screened doors kept the mosquitoes out. The two had just enjoyed a delicious Catfish dinner prepared by Horatio’s wife, Alma. They could hear her in the kitchen washing the dishes.

  “So, you having fun yet, Ben?” said Horatio.

  Hadley’s family called him Ben. Only the Mobleys referred to him as Hadley, which was his lastname. When they were kids, he and Horatio were known as the Hadley brothers. Or sometimes, the Hadley hucksters, because they tried to sell everything from pine cones to skeeter hawks to naïve little kids.

  And this one here costs a dime because he
’s so colorful. Just look at him. He’ll fly around you everywhere you go, eating all the mosquitoes that try to get you. Don’t you hate it when you’re scratching all night from mosquito bites? Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore when you have one of these pretty mosquito eaters.

  “I’ll let you know when it starts being fun,” said Hadley with a sly grin.

  “You oughtto be fairly disappointed, I guess, since I out-fished you.”

  “What are you talking about? I caught more fish than youdid,” said Hadley.

  “But my fish outweighedyours.”

  “That don’t count, and you know it. We’ve never figured the weight. If we had, I would’ve beat you a lot more often.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. My fish have always been bigger.”

  “You turkey. The only reason you like to take me fishing is so you can tell everybody you beat me,” said Hadley.

  “Only when I beat you fair and square.”

  Hadley sat up in his chair and glared at Horatio. “Fair and square?”

  Alma walked to the back screened door and said, “What are y’all arguing about now?”

  “Honey, tell Ben I’m right. My fish were bigger than his, weren’t they?”

  “How about both of you little boys just shut up about it.”

  Hadley and Horatio looked at each other. They broke out in laughter.

  Alma walked back into the kitchen shaking her head.

  “Hey, did you bring your shotgun?” said Horatio.

  “Yeah. It’s in my trunk. I figured I’d better bring it along just in case.”

  “Good. Let’s go get us some doves in the morning.”

  “I’m ready, Brother. But wait a minute. First we gotta set some ground rules. Are we counting the numberof birds or the total weight?” said Hadley.

  “Okay, fine. We’ll go by the number.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You’re mighty competitive, ain’t you, Boy.” said Horatio.

  “I’mcompetitive?”

  They argued until Alma broke it up.

  **********

  “They’re closed,” said Cynthia.

  “But there’s a light on. And I think I see somebody in there,” said Greg as they pulled up to Coreyville Copy Shop.

  They got out of the car and walked to the door, and Greg knocked.

  The man inside waved his arms and said, “Sorry—we’re closed.”

  “It’s an emergency,” yelled Greg.

  The man looked perturbed as he walked to the door. He unlocked it and opened it a few inches, and said, “So you think you have an emergency printing job?”

  “Well, it could be a matter of life or death,” said Greg.

  “Does this involve national security?” said the man, facetiously.

  “We’re really sorry to bother, Sir,” said Cynthia. “But my mother has just been kidnapped, and we think the person who did it might have made some copies here, or used one of your computers.”

  “When?”

  “Friday, between noon and 1:00,” said Greg. “And it looks like the kidnapper killeda woman tonight, and I think it might be the same one who killed Nancie Jo Gristel.”

  “Mrs. Gristel and my mother used to play canasta with a group of ladies every week when I was a kid,” said the man. “Come on in.”

  He let them in and locked the door behind them. “I’m not sure how much I can help. I don’t remember who came in around that time. And if they just made copies, I wouldn’t have any record of their documents,” said the man.

  “Could you check to see if somebody paid with a credit card?” said Greg.

  “Sure, I can do that.” He walked behind the counter to the computer and began typing and clicking. After a few minutes he said, “Let’s see, between 12:00 and 1:00… Nobody paid with a credit card during that period. Just a few cash payments.”

  “What if they printed documents from one of those computers?” said Greg, pointing to the four desktop computers along the back wall. “Are copies of those documents saved somewhere?”

  “Yeah. They’re saved on the print server for a week. I’ll check it.” He worked at the computer a few more minutes and then said, “Here’s something.”

  “Can I see it?” said Greg.

  “Yeah. Come around.”

  Greg and Cynthia walked behind the counter and looked over the man’s shoulders. The title of the document read:

  Informed Consent for Participation in a Clinical Trial

  It didn’t make sense to Greg. Why would the killer be involved in a clinical trial of experimental drugs for Alzheimer’s disease? Beverly didn’t have Alzheimer’s. But Nancie Jo Gristel did. Who else? He had just heard of somebody else who had Alzheimer’s. It was Mallie Mae Mobley. And her son had just taken a leave of absence from his medical practice.

  Then he remembered the nurse at the hospital the other day. She seemed to know the Mobleys better than she let on. Maybe he was just grasping at straws. But it might be a clue. And right now it was the only one they had.

  “Thanks. You’ve been a great help,” said Greg.

  “I have?” said the man.

  “Yes, you have.” He turned to Cynthia. “Let’s go.”

  As they got into the car, Cynthia said, “What’s going on? Where are we going?”

  “To see a nurse.”

  Chapter29

  Macy checked the clock on the instrument panel as Elmo pulled into the garage. It was 9:34 PM. Their day was about to end. And what an amazing day it had been. She wished it could go on until midnight, until tomorrow, until forever. But now she had to walk Mallie Mae to her room and get her ready for bed.

  Elmo and Macy got out of the car, and Macy was about to open the back door to wake up Mallie Mae. But Elmo walked around to her and motioned for her to wait. He looked in the back seat. Mallie Mae was in a peaceful slumber.

  He took Macy in his arms and spoke softly. “This has been the most wonderful day.”

  Macy had so many things to say, but couldn’t manage to say any of them before Elmo began to lean in to give her a kiss. Earlier in the evening, when he had kissed her forehead on the dance floor she had overwhelmed with emotion. This time he was going for the lips. She wondered if she would literally faint in his arms.

  Realizing she was holding her breath, she tried to relax and inhale, which only served to fill her lungs with his marvelous scent and radiate quivers throughout her body. The few inches of movement from his lips to hers passed in slow motion—probably because her brain was processing a million thoughts a second. Every nerve ending stood waiting on high alert.

  But how could the real thing compare to her fantasies? What if it was a disappointment? Or worse yet, what if it was much better than her fantasies, but led nowhere? One exciting kiss wouldn’t guarantee a happy ever after.

  Quit thinking and just kiss him, Macy told herself.

  She was surprised at how natural it felt—as though their lips had been created by God as a complemental set. She was kissing the only man she had ever loved. And now she knew her fantasies had been but a superficial portrayal of this exquisite reality.

  When he gently pulled away and she came out of her trance, she had no idea how long it had lasted. But it was not long enough.

  “Better get Mom to bed,” said Elmo.

  “Okay.”

  Macy turned to open the back door.

  “And after you get her settled in, why don’t you come down for a while? I’ll be in my study,” said Elmo, smiling.

  “Okay, I will.” Macy wondered just how fast she could get Mallie Mae to bed.

  **********

  “Why are we going to see a nurse?” said Cynthia.

  “It’s just a hunch,” said Greg. “Wednesday morning I was at the hospital sitting with a church member whose husband was having back surgery.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “And we were talking about the Mobleys, and how Elmo was taking a leave from his medical practice b
ecause he had just discovered his mother had Alzheimer’s. And there was a nurse over at the computer who seemed to be taking quite an interest in the conversation. I felt guilty when I started to feel that we were gossiping. So, I went over to the nurse and apologized.”

  “Why did you apologize to her?”

  “I don’t know. I just had the impression she might be a close friend of the Mobley family, and that she might have been offended by what was being said.”

  “So, what did shesay?”

  “She told me it was okay. And she acted as though she was no more than a casual acquaintance. But I didn’t buy it. She definitely knew more than she was saying,” said Greg.

  He parked the Bonneville in the hospital parking lot and they got out and walked toward the main entrance.

  “What’s her name?” said Cynthia.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Well, then how are we going to find her?”

  “I doremember that it sounded Biblical. Her name sounded like a character from the Bible.”

  “Okay, this could take a while. Where do we start? Mary?”

  “Mary… I think it isMary.”

  “Mary who? Is her last name also Biblical?”

  “Actually…I don’t know. Maybe,” said Greg.

  “Mary Magdalene? Surely not.”

  “Wait—that’s close.”

  Cynthia looked at Greg in disbelief as they walked through the glass doors and into the lobby.

  “May I help you,” said the elderly woman at the information desk.

  “Yes,” said Greg. “I need to find a particular nurse, but I’m not sure about her name.”

  “Uh…” The woman had no idea how to respond.

  Cynthia knew what Greg was about to say. The poor woman would think they were both crazy.

  “It sounds Biblical. Mary something. Like Mary Magdalene,” said Greg.

  When the woman began to smile, Cynthia thought she looked a little scary. But it maybe it was because of the fact that the woman didn’t have any teeth.

  “Oh. I think I know who you’re looking for: Mary Magdely,” said the woman.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” said Greg.

  “She usually works days. But she couldbe pulling a double. If so, she’d be on the second floor.”

  “Thank you so much,” said Greg.