Nutcase (7 page)

“Are they okay?” I asked.

“They’re in the back sleeping soundly, and I’m not.” He gave a weary smile.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you looked for a partner?”

“Not a bad idea,” he said. He glanced down at Mike. “Why don’t you plan on picking up your little princess at the end of the day?” he said. “We’ll give her the royal treatment.”

I arrived at my office twenty minutes later and came to a dead stop inside the reception room. Mona’s housekeeper, Mrs. Perez, was sitting in one of the chairs, a wad of tissue in one hand, a rosary in the other. It was obvious she’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“The worst possible thing has happened,” she said.

Our conversation was cut short when Mona appeared with a cup of coffee. She was wearing a starched white nurse’s uniform and white soft-soled shoes.

She glanced at me. “Bad news,” she said, handing the trembling woman her coffee. “Mrs. Perez’s grandson, Ricky, was picked up by the police as he was leaving for school this morning.”

“Oh no!” I said. I’d only met sixteen-year-old Ricky a couple of times, but Mrs. Perez had told me he was an honor student who dreamed of becoming a doctor. “What happened?” I asked.

“The police are idiots,” Mrs. Perez said, choking back a sob. “They’ve locked my grandson up like an animal.”

“For what?” I asked.

Mona looked at me. “The cops accused him of beating a priest with a baseball bat.”

“It’s a big fat lie!” Mrs. Perez said. “My grandson would never lay a hand on Father Demarco. Ricky idolizes him.”

I knew that Ricky and his family, as well as Mrs. Perez, were strict Catholics. “Did this Father Demarco actually say that Ricky beat him up?”

Mona shook her head. “He was unconscious when the EMTs arrived. He had to undergo emergency brain surgery, so he’s not talking. A nun who lives on the property found him. She claimed she saw Ricky running from the back of the church as she was dressing.”

Mrs. Perez pressed her lips together in irritation. “That nun is old and half blind.”

“It’s clearly a case of mistaken identity,” Mona said.

“It’s not fair,” Mrs. Perez said. “Ricky grew up in that church, and he does volunteer work. He taught Father Demarco how to use a computer.”

“Where is Ricky
now
?” I asked.

“He’s in the detention center,” Mona said. “I called my attorney. He’s on the way over.”

“My daughter, Mary-Margaret, is there waiting for the attorney to arrive,” Mrs. Perez said. “She told me not to come.”

“She didn’t want you to become even more upset,” Mona said. “Lewis will take care of everything.”

Lewis Barnes was Mona’s lawyer, and the best in town. He was also expensive. Since Mrs. Perez’s daughter was a single mother who barely made ends meet, I had to assume Mona was covering the costs. “Mr. Barnes is highly capable and has a lot of connections,” I said to Mrs. Perez. “I’m sure he’ll have Ricky out in no time.”

“I should be with my daughter,” Mrs. Perez said, weeping into her tissue. “She’s always had to do everything on her own.”

Mona had told me that Mary-Margaret had been wild and irresponsible as a teenager, bearing two children out of wedlock before she was twenty years old, and disgracing her family in the process. Finally, Mary-Margaret turned her life around. She was hard-working and had been taking college courses for years in hopes of earning a degree. She and her mother rented a duplex. Living next door, Mrs. Perez was able to help out with her grandchildren when necessary.

“The police need to open their eyes and see what’s happening to our neighborhood,” Mrs. Perez said. “A gang called the Thirty-Eight Specials has all but taken over. Two weeks ago they beat Ricky within an inch of his life.”

“Oh no!” I said.

She nodded. “He was just walking down the sidewalk minding his own business when a bunch of them jumped him. There were witnesses, but nobody, including Ricky, would tell the police anything because they’re scared to talk.”

“You’re going to move out of that neighborhood,” Mona said firmly.

Mrs. Perez looked sad. “It used to be a nice place to live. Everybody was close and looked out for each other.” She began weeping again. “My grandson is probably scared to death. He has never been in trouble. Who knows what they’ll do to him?” she added. “He can’t afford to let his grades slip, because he is counting on scholarship money.”

“Maybe you can talk to Ricky,” Mona said to me. “He’s going to need help getting through this.”

Mrs. Perez turned pleading eyes to me.

“Of course I’ll talk to him,” I said; my heart grew heavy at the sight of her distress.

The phone rang and Mona picked it up. “It’s Lewis Barnes,” she said. She listened carefully and made notes. Finally, she hung up. “Ricky is being arraigned at two o’clock today,” she said. “Lewis promised to have him home in time for dinner.”

Mrs. Perez clasped her tissues to her heart. “Oh, thank God!”

“I could see him first thing tomorrow morning,” I said. Mrs. Perez nodded.

“It’s not over,” Mona said after a moment, her tone gentle. “The nun is sticking to her story.”

 

 

 

Mona sent Mrs. Perez home in a cab. I waited until we were alone before I confronted her about her wardrobe. “Okay, I give up. Why are you dressed as a nurse?”

Mona bopped herself on the forehead with the ball of her hand. “I completely forgot I was wearing it,” she said, “what with all the commotion. What do you think?” She turned around so I could get a full view. She even wore white hose.

“Back to my question,” I said.

“Well, I was lying in bed last night thinking about nursing school when I remembered the Halloween party Mr. Moneybags and I attended three years ago. We dressed as a doctor and nurse. Mr. Moneybags went as a gynecologist.” She smiled at the memory. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to find the dang thing. I searched the attic for two solid hours!”

“You
still
haven’t answered my question,” I said. “
Why
are you dressed as a nurse?”

Mona shrugged. “I thought it would be fun. This way I can see what it
feels
like being a nurse without actually being one.”

“Oh.” I’m sure there was some part of Mona that thought it made sense. “You’re not actually going to perform any, um, nursing duties, right?” I said.

“Of course not.” She sighed. “Do you have any idea of the sacrifices I’ll have to make in order to become a nurse? Nurses don’t wear fingernail polish.”

“I’m glad you’ve thought it through.”

The phone rang and Mona answered it. She offered it to me. “It’s Thad.”

I took the phone. “Edith Wright called,” he said. “Marie is being a real pain in the ass. Edith is threatening to drop-kick her from the window of the psychiatric ward if we don’t do something,” he added.

“Oh great,” I muttered. I could feel my stress meter overflowing, and I’d been at my office less than an hour.

“I’m on my way over now,” Thad said.

“I’ll meet you,” I said, knowing I would have to cancel my first appointment of the day.

 

 

 

I drove to the hospital, thankful that traffic was not bad at that hour. I found Thad and Edith standing in the hall. Edith wore a dark scowl. They glanced up as I approached.

“Marie has been a naughty girl,” Thad said.

“What has she done?” I asked.

Edith wasted no time. “Last night at dinner she claimed the food was filled with toxins and unfit for human consumption. She threw her tray on the floor.” Edith looked from me to Thad and back at me. “Good thing I wasn’t here.”

Thad and I exchanged looks.

“I’ve got a padded cell with her name on it,” Edith continued. “If she wants to act ugly, that’s going to be her new address. I don’t deal with ugly.”

“Where is Marie now?” I asked.

“She’s confined to her room. I’ve got Debra sitting outside her door.” Edith looked at me. “You’ve met Debra. Big black woman? Six foot three, two hundred and fifty pounds? Nobody gets by Debra.”

“I’ve increased the dosage on Marie’s Vistaril,” Thad said.

Edith checked her wristwatch. “I have a meeting,” she grumbled. “And here I was counting on having a good day.”

I watched her disappear down the hall. “I don’t think Edith is very happy with our patient
or
us,” I said.

Thad looked bewildered. “Which is surprising since I went out of the way to be especially charming,” he said.

“I’d better look in on Marie,” I said. “When I get back to the office I’m going to contact the police and see if a missing persons report has been filed with her description.”

“Good idea,” he said. He glanced at his watch. “I have back-to-back appointments. We’ll play catch-up later.” He started down the hall, then turned. “Have you given any more thought to my offer?”

“How soon can Mona and I move in?” I asked.

Thad reached into his pocket, pulled out a key, and tossed it to me. I caught it in one hand and prayed I wasn’t making a monumental mistake.

I found Debra sitting outside Marie’s room reading
Jet
magazine. “I need to see my patient,” I whispered.

The woman didn’t look up from her magazine. “Okay, but if she starts singing about hound dogs and pickup trucks I’m going to throw her in a cold shower, clothes and all,” she added.

Marie was lying on her bed. Her eyelids were heavy, and she seemed to be struggling to stay awake. She did not look happy to see me. “I hate this place,” she said, her voice thick.

“You’d make things easier on yourself and everyone else if you’d settle down and give the medication time to get into your system.”

“They just want to drug me so I’ll be less trouble,” she managed. “I know how it works.”

“Who wanted to drug you in the past?” I asked.

She didn’t respond.

“We’re just trying to keep you calm until the new mood-stabilizing drug Dr. Glazer prescribed starts working. You should be feeling better in a couple of days.”

“Not as long at Attila the Hun is running the show,” she said and closed her eyes.

“You need to try to cooperate and not make trouble,” I said. “It’s best if you remain on Edith’s good side.”

“She has a good side?”

“I can’t swear to it.” Marie didn’t hear my response because she had drifted off.

 

 

 

My eleven o’clock patient, Alice Smithers, suffered from dissociative identity disorder, otherwise, and more traditionally, known as multiple personality disorder. There were more people living in her head than in most Italian households. Alice had sought my help when she began having problems at her last job, where she worked as an accountant. Accusations of affairs and skimming money had resulted, and she was given two weeks to find another job. To top it off, Alice’s new roommate, Liz Jones, was partying half the night with her boyfriend, trashing Alice’s condo, and had even stolen her credit card. It hadn’t occurred to me that Alice’s confusion, bewilderment, and poor memory were due to MPD until it was almost too late for both of us. Liz Jones was actually one of Alice’s alter personalities, and the abusive boyfriend had put Alice in the hospital and attacked me as well. We’d later discovered that Liz was skimming money, sleeping with Alice’s boss, and blackmailing him.

In the land of mental health, Alice was known as the host personality. She hid her good looks beneath clunky eyeglasses and ill-fitting clothes in shades of brown. It was Mona’s wildest dream that Alice would get well and gain some fashion sense in the process.

Liz Jones, on the other hand, dressed provocatively, slept around, and was a reckless spender, which is why Alice had cut up her credit cards.

I invited Alice to take a seat on the sofa in my office, and after grabbing her file, I took the chair next to her. “How’s our new senior accountant doing?” I asked, proud that Alice had not only landed a job with a prestigious firm but had climbed the ranks quickly.

She took a deep breath. “I like being challenged, but it can also be stressful. I’m constantly worried about losing time.”

Losing time, sort of like an alcoholic blacking out, usually meant the appearance of an alter personality. “You’re afraid Liz will show up and do something that will cause you to lose your job?” I asked.

“Yes. You know how she is.”

I’d seen very little of Liz since Thad and I had been consulting on Alice’s treatment plan. He’d prescribed a psychotropic drug and was seeing Alice every other week for med checks, but it was Liz Jones that showed up because she was hot for Thad. Since I served no purpose for her, she kept quiet during my sessions with Alice.

“What would Liz have to gain by getting you fired?” I asked. “It would create hardship for her as well.”

Alice seemed to think about it.

“As for the other personalities, they have proved helpful. I can’t see how they would pose a threat.”

“Since I haven’t met them, I have to take your word for it,” she said.

The other personalities knew about Alice and had listened to our conversations, but Alice knew nothing about them.

“Like I said, Emily is very personable. I think she was a great asset during your job interviews, especially when you felt so depressed. And Sue was the one who scanned the employment classifieds, wrote a kick-butt resume, and mailed it out to more than a dozen companies. They both have your best interests at heart.” Sue seemed to be the glue that held everything together when Alice became stressed and overwhelmed. Frankly, I wished I had someone like Sue in my life.

“I suppose I should feel relieved and appreciative that they are so eager to help me,” Alice said, “but as we both know, not everyone has my best interests at heart.”

We were back to Liz again. “I think you’re giving Liz more power by fearing her,” I said. “You’re turning her into the monster beneath the bed.”