Malpractice in Maggody (14 page)

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.”

“What exactly do you do all day?”

“I am in the process of determining what surgical procedures will best benefit our patients at various stages of their gradual progress. A positive self-image is vital to complete recovery.”

He was annoying the hell out of me, and I knew I was doing a poor job of hiding it. Somehow, I didn’t much care. “You mean nose jobs? Face lifts?”

He winced. “I prefer to use the approved medical terminology, but in essence, yes. Now why don’t you run along and find Dr. Skiller? I need to call my attorney to discuss potential liability.”

I stood up. “I’ll use the opportunity to question her about what took place after the meeting. I am under no circumstances going undercover, Dr. Stonebridge. If you need a replacement for Miss Foss, I suggest you try a temp agency.”

Fuming, I left him by the fountain and headed for the pool area to find an entrance. The man who’d been cleaning the pool had vanished. Now a muscular young man with gleaming blond hair was swimming laps as if he were training for the Olympics. A patient, I surmised, but if he was all that famous, it escaped me. Then again, I don’t have cable and I rarely make it to the movies in Farberville. Maybe he’d won an Oscar or an Emmy or whatever people won these days. Probably not the Kentucky Derby.

I opened French doors and went down a corridor in the direction of the front of the building. A uniformed maid carrying an armload of towels hurried by without acknowledging me. I recognized the man who’d been guarding the gate during construction. He was now clad in neat white pants and a shirt, and when he saw me, disappeared around a corner. No one was crying or howling in a distant room. No bedpans clattered to the floor; no querulous voices complained. It was all very civilized for a loony bin, if that’s what it was.

When I arrived in the reception room, the desk was unattended. More maids were moving about in one of the wings, presumably where the patients were battling demons in their exquisitely decorated suites. I drummed my fingers on the desk while I tried to decide what to do—which would not include filing or busywork. I already had a job, and more importantly, a date later in the day. What’s more, I suspected that if I called Harve to squawk, I’d be told that he’d gone fishing for the weekend.

I was considering giving it a shot when Dr. Skiller appeared from an office behind the desk.

“So it’s you,” she said flatly.

Nothing like a warm greeting to liven up my day.

R
uby Bee was keeping an eye on Tekeella Buchanon, who was draped all over a potbellied truck driver in one of the booths. As long as they didn’t start fooling around with buttons and zippers, she had no call to interfere. ’Course it might get interesting if Tekeella’s boyfriend showed up, but last she’d heard, he was doing thirty days at the county jail for assault. She couldn’t remember when she’d heard it, though.

She felt a flicker of alarm as the door opened and sunlight splashed onto the dance floor. Her alarm turned to disdain as Estelle wobbled in on four-inch heels, all gussied up like she was going to church. However, she held her tongue as Estelle sat down on her customary stool and took a Tupperware container out of a plastic bag.

They looked at each other for an uncomfortable minute, then Rudy Bee broke down and said, “You want something?”

“I made a batch of guacamole dip for your guests out back,” said Estelle. “I just happened to have some avocados that were getting mushy.”

Ruby Bee sniffed. “Oh, really? Last time I looked, the SuperSaver didn’t have any avocados.”

“I was shopping in Farberville, if you must know. Kmart was having a sale on purses, and I’ve been looking for a new one to go with my navy dress. Afterward, I stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few things.”

“Like avocados,” Ruby Bee said, nodding sagely.

Estelle chewed on her lip. “That’s right. I found a recipe in a magazine for a chicken dish that called for avocados and black olives and salsa. The SuperSaver doesn’t carry fancy things like that.”

“So how did this chicken dish turn out?”

“I changed my mind about making it. I couldn’t think of anything else to do with the avocados, so I made some guacamole. Do I need your permission to take it out back?”

Ruby Bee moved down the bar and began to wash mugs in the sink. “Doesn’t matter to me, but I’m kinda surprised that you’d want to have anything to do with those foreigners. You want to leave your purse behind the bar in case they’re pickpockets and thieves?”

“I don’t know why you’d say such a thing, Rubella Belinda Hanks!”

“I’m sure they’ll be forever beholden to you for your Christian generosity. The pope’ll be impressed, too.”

“If you’d druther, I can just leave,” Estelle said, heating up.

“Pay no attention to me. Most likely they’ll be thrilled out of their skins to get a bowl of mushy avocados. I’m surprised you didn’t bring along a box of old underwear and rusty cans of tomato soup and pinto beans.”

Estelle quivered, then composed herself. “I don’t know what you want from me, Ruby Bee. I came here to make amends, but I ain’t gonna grovel.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna grovel, neither,” retorted Ruby Bee.

“It’s just that…well, it’s complicated. If you don’t mind, I’ll pour myself a glass of sherry.” When Ruby Bee shrugged, she reached behind the bar and found her bottle. “The thing is, back when I was living in Little Rock and singing at the lounge, there was this Italian fellow. I don’t want to bore you with the details, so all I’m gonna say is that it didn’t work out. I ended up mistrusting foreigners. I know those folks out back ain’t Italians, but it’s hard for me to feel comfortable about them.”

Ruby Bee tossed the dishrag into the sink and went down to the end of the bar. “So tell me about him. Was he good-looking?”

“He had this really thick hair that was blacker than a mule skinner’s molar,” Estelle said dreamily. “He always brought me flowers on Saturday night. Not daisies, but big bouquets of roses tied with ribbons. I have to admit I was smitten with him, in spite of his annoying habit of sucking on his teeth. One night we drove out to a bluff overlooking the river and he told me all about his house in Italy and his wife, who’d died of some kind of mysterious ailment when she was only twenty-two.”

“And then…?” Ruby Bee prompted her.

The ensuing conversation managed to undo a week’s worth of animosity.

“I am not here as a replacement receptionist,” I said to Brenda Skiller. “This is a murder investigation. My understanding is that Molly Foss was drowned in a fountain out back. Would you please tell me what you did after the staff meeting was over?”

“Sheriff Dorfer, if that’s his name, agreed that you would ask your questions without causing undue alarm,” she said coolly. “You cannot do so if you insist on attempting to bully everyone. I suggest you take several deep, cleansing breaths before you continue.”

I couldn’t quite bring myself to drop into a lotus position and focus on my navel. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but we need to get it resolved quickly. What did you do after the staff meeting?”

She assessed me with no visible signs of warmth. “I agree with you that this must be dealt with expeditiously. After the meeting adjourned, I needed to pick up some invoices in the office. Miss Foss was here. I found what I needed and retired to my room. She and I did not speak.”

“Didn’t she announce at the end of the staff meeting that she was going home?”

“She did, but she lingered at her desk.”

“Do you have any idea why?” I asked.

“Why would I? She was vapid, silly, and keenly aware of the effect she had on all the males in a quarter-mile radius. She couldn’t master the computer or put files in the appropriate slots, but she could wiggle her ass and wink like a local beauty pageant queen. I found her behavior disgusting.”

It didn’t sound as if Brenda Skiller and Molly Foss shared tuna sandwiches and fashion tips at lunch. I tried again. “What time was this?”

“Eight-thirty or so. As I said, I took the invoices and left her here. I went to my office, did some work, and finished up at eleven. Dr. Stonebridge knocked on my door shortly after four o’clock this morning to tell me what happened. I dressed and waited with him in the garden for the authorities.”

I perched on the edge of the desk. “Could Molly have been meeting someone?”

“I have no idea. When I last saw her, she wasn’t really doing anything, just fiddling with the pens and paper clips. She seemed a little bit nervous. I did wonder briefly if she was waiting for Walter. He must have seemed exotic in comparison to her husband.”

“You’re quite sure it couldn’t have been a patient?” I asked, thinking of the blond hulk I’d seen swimming laps.

“Absolutely not. They are all sedated by nine each night. We cannot have them wandering around the facility. We would be liable if something happened to one of them. Randall—Dr. Zumi—will be happy to provide you with the details of their medication.”

I tossed this around for a moment. “Then you agree that either someone from outside managed to get over or under the fence, despite the guard and the dog, or that one of the employees is responsible?”

“I see no reason to speculate,” Brenda said. “My only concern is for our patients, who will be following their schedules for individual and small group therapy, physical activity, meditation, and meals. Although I suspect you’re no more competent than Miss Foss, you must assume her duties in order not to alarm them.”

“Your cash cows,” I said.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. You’ll find a white coat in the office. Please wear it while you’re here.” She picked up a clipboard and thrust it at me. “Here is a list of those expected to require admittance during the day. They must identify themselves before you push the button to open the gate. Do not attempt to file anything or use the computer. Miss Foss left a muddle that will take me days to undo. If any of the patients ask about her, tell them she was called away for a family crisis.”

“Wait a minute,” I said as she headed down the hall. She did not look back as she disappeared. I was not pleased with her assumption that I would put on a white coat and guard the gate, but I realized I might have an opportunity to find out something about what was happening inside the compound. Thus far it was creepy, to put it mildly. The two doctors I’d encountered were more worried about maintaining a tranquil setting than they were about the brutal death of Molly Foss. Dr. Stonebridge was on the phone to his lawyer to discuss liability. Dr. Skiller was no doubt making sure the latest delivery of fresh vegetables was one hundred percent organic. Clearly, I needed to talk to Dr. Zumi and the personal trainer before I tackled the patients and the terrified staff of Mexicans—none of whom spoke English. I wasn’t fond of the current proprietor of the Dairee Dee-Lishus, but I was very sorry he was not available to translate. Presuming he would.

And if Sheriff Harvey Dorfer had been anywhere in the vicinity, I would have kicked his butt into kingdom come, and then some.

I was still sitting on the edge of the desk when a tall, thin woman with striking white hair and a grim expression came into the area. She wore a blue velour tracksuit and had a towel draped over one shoulder. She was striding with such intensity that she nearly crashed into me.

“Where’s Molly?” she demanded.

“She couldn’t work today,” I said truthfully.

“Who are you?”

“Arly Hanks,” I said. I studied her more carefully. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. “And you?”

“That is none of your concern. I need to make a telephone call. This is utterly ridiculous, this coerced isolation! Ridiculous! All this whispering and creeping about at night. People coming into my room without my permission. It’s a disgrace. I must call Lloyd right now!”

I frowned, trying to remember when and where I’d seen her. “Help yourself. There’s bound to be a phone around here somewhere.”

“Do stop staring at me like that. I am not a specimen under a microscope.” She went into the office behind me and slammed the door.

But she was a patient, I decided, and teetering on a very tall ladder. I had no idea what she would have done if I’d refused to give her access to a phone. And I was certain I’d seen her somewhere.

“Who are you?” asked a man who’d managed to come up silently behind me.

I turned around. As soon as I’d taken a good look at him, I realized he was Ruby Bee’s would-be psychotic killer. I could understand why she’d been alarmed by his long hair, now in a tidy ponytail, and dark eyes. He’d put on a white coat over a tie-dyed T-shirt, but it failed to give him a professional aura, since he was also wearing sandals and baggy shorts. His hairy legs were scarred as if he’d spent years tromping through sagebrush.

“You’re Walter Kaiser, the trainer?” I said, although it seemed equally possible he’d murdered Walter Kaiser and donned his coat. We were about the same height, but he loomed over me all the same.

Okay, so maybe I was sitting down.

His lips twitched. “My fame precedes me. Does yours?”

“I’m here because of Molly.”

“Yeah, what a bummer. Brenda told me what happened. Molly was one sweet chick. Clueless as the day she was born, which was probably in a log cabin with a midwife in attendance. She told me that the only time she’s ever been out of Arkansas was when her family went to Pensacola for a week. She thought the ocean was ‘really, really big.’ I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was looking at the friggin’ Gulf of Mexico.” He pushed aside a pile of papers and sat next to me. “So you’re investigating the murder?”

“For the moment,” I said. “Did you see Molly after the staff meeting last night?”

Walter grinned at me. “You’d make a fine lady cop on a TV show. You got any handcuffs in your back pocket?”

“After the staff meeting…?”

“I followed Molly here and tried to talk her into going out to a bar. She claimed she couldn’t because she was married. I told her that was a load of bullshit.” He hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Things sort of went downhill from there, and she ended up slapping me so hard that my eardrums damn near burst. I told her to save her piety for church and went back to my room. I fell asleep about midnight. Guess I missed all the excitement.”

“You were pretty pissed off at her, weren’t you?” I asked.

“Not really.” Walter stood up and peered down the hallway. “You seen a lady in a blue tracksuit? She was supposed to be in the gym ten minutes ago.”

I gestured at the office. “She said she needed to make a call. Who is she, Walter? I know I’ve seen her before.”

“You let her make a call? You’d better hope the top guns don’t find out. They have a very strict policy that forbids patients from communicating with the outside world.”

“Is she a journalist?”

“Something like that,” he said. “I’d better hustle her off to the gym before she gets caught. She’s a tough old bird, but I kinda like her. Be a shame if she got into trouble.”

I stared at him. “This isn’t exactly a boarding school for rambunctious adolescents. Aren’t the patients free to leave?”

“One of ’em is here under court order for a ninety-day psych evaluation, and another at a judge’s discretion. Technically, they could leave, although the repercussions would be nasty. The other two are here voluntarily, but under duress. And they know their addictions are life-threatening, even if they won’t admit it.”

“The woman in the office…?”

Walter shook his head. “I’ve said too much already. The last thing I want to do is get canned. Easy job, good pay, free room and board. The food’s lousy, since Brenda’s got this vegan mindset. Last night we had broiled falafel patties and a salad of free-range endive with toasted sesame seed dressing.” He gave me a mischievous smile. “You want to go to a steak house tonight, then take a long, lazy drive back here? We can stop somewhere and act out fantasies with your handcuffs.”