Nutcase (3 page)

“Monday.”

“Oh, I’m sure I must’ve slept over the weekend, but I was mostly looking for gigs.”

“How did you get those bruises?” I asked, motioning to her arms.

She avoided eye contact. “I don’t remember.”

“Why don’t we talk in my office,” I said, feeling the need to sit down and take a deep breath. The woman was exhausting.

“I don’t have much time,” Marie said. “I need a list of your contacts so I can get moving.”

I did not think she would be safe on her own. “First, you need a solid business plan,” I said. “And you need to write out your short- and long-term goals. A clear plan will save you a lot of time, and it will assist me in helping you.”

She seemed to ponder it. “That makes sense. Now I know why Rusty sent me to you.”

I led her inside my office and invited her to sit. I grabbed a fresh legal pad and two pens from my coffee mug so that I would still have an even number left inside. I handed them to her. My plan was to keep her occupied until I could make arrangements to get her help, which, in her case, probably meant hospitalization. I’d seen enough manic highs in my life to recognize the symptoms. The flip side of mania is depression. I needed to make certain that Marie wasn’t sleeping in her car when she hit the emotional skids.

“Perhaps you’d like to list the reasons you’ve decided to reinvent yourself in the first place,” I said.

She nodded enthusiastically. “What an excellent idea!”

I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a release form that would give me a legal right to share information related to Marie. “I would like to be able to discuss your situation with a friend and colleague of mine,” I said. “He and I sometimes work together on cases. I trust his opinion.”

“No problem.” She signed the paper and handed it back to me. She was scribbling furiously on the legal pad as I left the room.

Mona was filing her nails. “That woman is off her rocker,” she said without looking up.

“Would you get Thad Glazer on the line? Try his cell phone first.”

“Uh-oh,” Mona said. “You know what happens every time you ask him for a favor.”

Dr. Thad Glazer was my ex-boyfriend, and the center of his own universe. He was also a psychiatrist to the wealthy, meaning he never worried about his patients’ checks bouncing. I’d broken it off with Thad some four and a half years ago when I caught him cheating. I’d later met and married Jay. Thad still believed I did it to get back at him. Now that I was officially divorced, he thought we should pick up where we’d left off. I did not share his opinion. But, despite it all, I could pretty much count on him to see my patients for medication therapy. In return, I took on his more troublesome patients for talk therapy, which is how I’d ended up with the major nutcases.

I was hoping Thad could get the commitment order drawn up more quickly than I could and, hopefully, find a spare bed in the psychiatric ward at the hospital we often used. He had a silver tongue that came in handy during crunch time.

Mona dialed Thad’s number and waited. “Hello, Thad,” Mona said. “Kate needs to speak with you. There’s some wacko here who thinks she’s Marie Osmond. I think Kate wants to throw her in the loony bin.” Mona held her hand over the receiver. “Thad wants to know if you’re naked.”

I didn’t bother with a response. In my line of work, there are certain ethical standards we are supposed to follow. Mona and Thad ignored them. But firing Mona was out of the question. Not only was she my best friend, she worked for free.

I held out my hand and Mona gave me the phone. “Thad, I’ve got a bipolar woman in my office who needs to be admitted to the hospital. She’s also going to require meds. Lots of meds,” I added.

Thad chuckled. “That sort of places you in the predicament of needing me,” he said.

“Yeah, okay.” It was easier to play along.

“Say the words, Kate.”

“I need you, Thad.”

Mona shook her head sadly.

“I’ll have to reschedule my tennis match,” he said. “I wish you’d called me yesterday when I had more time on my hands.”

I tried to sound sympathetic. “I’m sorry you’ll be forced to spend the afternoon practicing psychiatry instead of your backhand,” I said.

“You’re not sorry. Which brings me to the next question,” he said. “What’s in it for me?”

I’d been subconsciously waiting for Thad to say something inappropriate, because that’s what he usually did. He pushed my buttons, yanked my chain, and all of the above. As a professional, I knew I should try to rise above it. I seldom did.

“You owe me, Thad. Does the name George Moss mean anything to you?” George was the patient who’d carried into my office the vial of nitroglycerin that had ultimately led to the explosion. Thad had referred him to me.

“That was not my fault,” Thad said. “You are the one who lost your temper and threw the vial against the wall and blew up your own office.”

“Maybe so, but you’re the one who told me George Moss was harmless and that the vial contained his insulin. You should have had it checked by a lab before sending him to my office. After all, he threatened to blow up your place as well.”

“He was histrionic, Kate. That’s what histrionics do. Why didn’t
you
have the vial checked out?”

Thad had a point. The truth was George had created such a frenzy of drama for himself and others that nobody, myself included, had taken him seriously.

“You can’t hold that over my head for the rest of my life,” Thad said.

“Yes, I can. It’s more fun that way. Now, the patient we’ll be consulting on goes by the name of Marie Osmond.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s who she thinks she is,” I said. “Personally, I would have chosen to be Celine Dion, but that’s just me.”

“Are we talking voluntary commitment here?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

He sighed. “Okay, I’ll get on it right away and have the hospital send an ambulance for her. Since my day is shot anyway, I can probably meet you over there in a couple of hours.”

“Thank you, Thad,” I said, meaning it.

“And, hey, we can go to dinner later and discuss our findings. It’ll give us a chance to talk about us.”

“There
is
no us, Thad.”

“Kate, Kate, Kate. I know you’ve been through a rough time, but you have to move on. I could help you forget Jay Rush ever existed.”

I knew Thad’s remedy for everything from stress to ingrown toenails was a pitcher of margaritas and a stint in his hot tub followed by all-night sex. But the only thing likely to make me forget Jay was a full frontal lobotomy.

“I have to go, Thad,” I said. “I’ll see you at the hospital.” I hung up and handed the phone to Mona.

“Did he try to talk you into having phone sex?” she asked.

“Not this time.”

chapter 2

Marie was still writing out her business plan when my next patient, Eddie Franks, arrived. He’d spent a few years in prison for swindling several old ladies out of their retirement. Since he’d invested a large portion of the money in the stock market, he had been able to make restitution, as ordered by the court; thus serving less time behind bars. Of course, Eddie, being the con he was, had tried to convince the judge he was simply trying to build the nice ladies’ savings. But the fact that he had tried—and failed—to cover his sly financial tracks by using an alias had “guilty” written all over him. The judge had thrown him in the slammer. Weekly therapy sessions were one of the conditions of Eddie’s parole.

In his late fifties, he was still handsome, impeccably dressed, and one of the smoothest-talking men I’d ever met. Except for Jay, who could charm a woman right out of her undies. But I didn’t want to think about Jay or what it was like to feel his mouth on me and his warm flesh against mine, since I had no idea where our relationship was headed.

I decided it was best not to disturb Marie by going into my office for Eddie’s file. I grabbed a legal tablet and pen from the supply room so that I could take notes. I pulled Mona aside. “Don’t let Marie leave this office,” I whispered to her.

“I’m on it,” Mona said.

I asked Eddie to follow me down the hall to my small kitchenette. I motioned for him to sit at the table, and I joined him. “I have a situation on my hands this morning,” I said, “so we’ll have to talk in here. We may be interrupted.” I had no idea how long it would take Thad to get commitment papers on Marie because each case was different.

Eddie shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Just as long as you tell my parole officer I was here,” he said and smiled. His teeth were too perfect to be his own, but he still had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, more salt than pepper.

“How was your week?” I asked quickly. Despite jail time, Eddie had been able to find a job in a prestigious menswear store and had made top salesman within the first couple of weeks.

“You’re looking at the new manager of the most elite menswear store in town,” he announced proudly.

I was impressed. “Congratulations!”

“I plan to have my own store one day.”

“Slow down, Eddie,” I said, although it was easy to get caught up in his enthusiasm. He was the kind of person people flocked to at a party. “You need to take it one day at a time and follow through with the conditions of your parole.” I did not want Eddie to backslide into his old habits.

“I can’t help being impatient,” he said. “I spent three years of my life behind bars.”

I nodded. I liked Eddie, but it bothered me that he was more focused on how his crimes had affected
him
. He spent very little time thinking about the women he’d cheated. I wanted to hear remorse. I wanted Eddie to be genuinely sorry for what he’d done.

Our session had just ended when Mona appeared in the doorway. “Your mom and aunt are here. They decided to surprise you and invite you to join them for an early lunch.”

“Did you tell them I had an emergency?”

“Like it would make a difference?” Mona said. “Oh, and Thad called. He’s still working on that little task you gave him.”

“I’m going to have to do something nice for him,” I said.

Mona crossed her eyes. It was a technique she had perfected since coming to work for me. “I’m sure he’ll come up with something.”

The three of us made our way to the reception area, where I found my mother and aunt thumbing through old magazines. It would have been hard to miss the Junk Sisters. My grandmother had chosen to name them Dixie and Trixie. “Good morning,” I said.

My mother looked at me. “You’re too thin.” She turned to my aunt Trixie. “Doesn’t Kate look thin?”

“I think she looks great,” my aunt said.

My aunt was the peacemaker and spent much of her time trying to smooth out the misunderstandings between my mother and me.

My mother looked annoyed. “How can you say Kate looks great when she’s practically skin and bones?” She turned to me. “Are you sick?”

I debated telling her that I had mad cow disease. “I’m fine,” I said instead. I couldn’t really blame her for being concerned about my weight, though. My separation and divorce had whittled me from a size ten to a six. Mona’s housekeeper, Mrs. Perez, had altered a lot of my clothes since I couldn’t afford to buy a new wardrobe.

“We’re here to take you to lunch,” Aunt Trixie said, changing the subject.

My mother nodded. “You’ll have to hurry, on account of we’re double-parked.”

I envisioned her monster pickup truck piled high with junk, blocking half the cars in the parking lot. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go,” I said. “I’ve got an emergency.” I noted Eddie eyeing them curiously, but I wasn’t surprised. People on the street often stopped and stared at them, too.

“How can you have an emergency?” my mother asked. “You’re not a real doctor.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Aunt Trixie told her.

“We’ve got a serious nutcase in the next room waiting to be transferred to the asylum,” Mona said. “Kate is under a lot of stress right now.”

I knew Mona was trying to help, so I didn’t bother to remind her that we didn’t refer to our patients as nutcases or that psychiatric wards were not called asylums.

My mother stepped closer. “I don’t know how you work with these crazies,” she whispered. “No wonder you’re so thin and depressed. I read in yesterday’s paper that the FDA just approved an antidepressant that was guaranteed not to interfere with your sex life. You should look into it.”

“I’m not depressed, Mom,” I whispered back. “Maybe we could have lunch another time.”

“Trixie and I could be dead and buried by the time you worked us into your schedule,” she said. “How would that make you feel?”

“I would feel terribly guilty,” I said and saw the look of satisfaction on her face. She had succeeded in doing her job for the day.

Eddie stepped forward. “Ladies, why don’t you allow me to escort you to lunch in Dr. Holly’s stead?”

I opened my mouth in protest, then closed it. I couldn’t warn my mom and aunt that Eddie was a shyster and an ex-con without losing my license.

“Who are you?” my mother blurted out.

“Edward Franks, at your service.” He gave a slight bow. “I’m a close, um, acquaintance of your daughter, and I would consider it an honor to take the two of you to lunch. It’ll be my treat.”

“Don’t you have to get back to work?” I asked Eddie hopefully.

“I have plenty of time,” he assured me, his tone as smooth and sugary as maple syrup.

Mona shot me a look. Since Eddie had confided in her, it was obvious she didn’t like the idea of him being alone with my mother and aunt any more than I did.

“I suppose it’ll be okay,” my mother finally said. My aunt nodded in agreement.

Eddie opened the door and motioned them through with a flourish while Mona and I watched, open-mouthed. Eddie gave me a hearty wink and followed them out.