One Dead Under the Cuckoo's Nest (27 page)

Despite my hunger, I had to talk to Jagger.

I hurried to the nurses' station to see the usual staff on duty. Sister Liz was heading out the backdoor, most likely on dining-room watch. Sister Barbie stood with a tray of pills in her hand, Novitiate Lalli right beside her.

Not wanting them to see me and give me the Green Demon, I pulled back. I'd lost faith in my ability to not swallow after the sneeze incident.

They, too, walked out the backdoor. Nurse Melissa Lawson sat there, reading someone's chart. Hopefully not mine, although it was probably a doozie of a read.

“Excuse me, Nurse Lawson,” I whispered.

She looked up. “What's wrong with your voice, Pauline?”

“Oh. Nothing. Just, I don't want to wake anyone up.”

She looked at me as if I were either crazy or deaf, since the unit buzzed with noisy, hungry patients.

“I need my doctor. Now.”

“Why?”

Damn it. Couldn't these nurses just do as the patients requested? I couldn't come up with a quick enough lie.

She waved at me. “Go. Eat your breakfast. Dr. Plummer will be on his rounds soon. I'm sure it can wait.” She waved me off again.

Having avoided some ancient psychiatric punishment once already this morning, I told myself she was right and headed to the dining hall. I'd see Jagger soon enough.

Margaret was sitting next to Mason. Great. There wasn't a seat next to them, since Margaret was on the end and one of the “Jo's” sat next to her. Callie Jo was from New Orleans, I'd learned from her once.

I quickly got my tray of watery eggs, white toast and OJ, and then sat next to her. I wondered if she really was Callie Jo right now. Once Ruby had told me that Callie Jo had come here with the problem of thinking she was Patty Jo, Bobby Jo and Mavis Jo, whom I actually liked talking to, since she was an elderly Southern woman who'd been through the war—the Civil War. Patty Jo was only three years old and difficult to understand with her Southern drawl, and Bobby Jo was a teenage boy who didn't talk to adults. I wondered what the heck Callie Jo had been through in her life to cause her illness.

I sat next to her and looked at Margaret and Mason. “Hey. Good morning.”

They both nodded and Mason said, “We had the same van driver. Tall, very built and not too bright. First a nun led us to the van, but she didn't drive. He did.”

“Spike?” I asked in horror.

Margaret took a bite of toast. “We're not sure. He had on a white shirt and white pants. And a Red Sox baseball cap. I couldn't see his face and neither could Mason. But we agreed he acted very rudely.”

Spike for sure.

I took a giant bite of my toast, nearly choking. I had to talk to Jagger real soon. “Try to listen to Spike today. See if the voice, the tone of the voice sounds familiar.”

“If you can get him to talk,” Callie Jo said. Her voice was very rough, deep.

I looked at her. “Hey, Bobby Jo, is it?”

He or she nodded. I really didn't want to encourage Callie Jo's illness, but she'd interrupted—and might know something. The folks around here had heaps of time to observe what was going on.

I leaned near. “You know Spike?”

“I can take him, the shit.”

I had to smile. Callie had the teen attitude down pat. How sad when someone's mind split them into so many other personalities. “I'll bet you can. Did you ever see Spike in a Red Sox baseball cap?”

Callie started to shake. Her toast fell onto her dish.

I leaned over and patted her hand. “Never mind. You're all right.” I looked around to see if any of the staff noticed.

Spike stood guard by the doorway, watching.

God I hoped he couldn't read lips. Callie started to calm down when Margaret talked softly in her ear. A mother of a son. An expert.

Soon Callie Jo was eating peacefully. I'd lost my appetite. And Margaret and Mason stared at Callie Jo as if she held some deep secret.

Once the sharps were counted and everyone was released from the dining room, Callie Jo tugged at my arm. Before she said anything, she wiped her arm against her nose like a kid would do.

“That you, Bobby Jo?” I asked.

Spike came toward us.

Callie Jo said, “I saw him bring that man in the other day.”

“Did he have on his white uniform? And a Red Sox cap?” I asked before King Kong descended upon us. If he ushered me off to the wet packs, it'd be worth it to get some info that he was involved.

“I'm a Yankee fan,” Bobby Jo said proudly.

Shoot.

“But what was Spike wearing—”

“Stop annoying her,” Spike ordered and grabbed my arm. “Come with me.”

I gulped.

Margaret and Mason looked on in horror.

And Bobby Jo spat at Spike, missing him and hitting Joanna's elephant with a gob of saliva. She screamed, and Sister Liz hurried over.

Amid the ruckus, Spike cursed at me for always making trouble and Bobby Jo said, “Yeah, he had them on.”

I yanked free of Spike's hold when Bobby Jo, the little sick darling, had confirmed my suspicions about Spike. Even though Bobby Jo was ill, I believed that she was correct. She wasn't as zonked out as some patients.

Spike must have picked up Margaret at the airport too.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, about ready to accuse him of fraud, but biting my lip instead.

He glared at me and this time it scared me. I stepped back. At least this place was crowded and he wouldn't pull anything now.

I touched my taser bracelet and figured old Spike didn't take psychiatric medication—so he damn well better watch out!

“Your doc is here,” he said and grabbed me again.

“I'm coming. You don't have to manhandle me. Besides, my doctor—”

Jagger stepped out of the alcove. “If I have to tell you again not to treat her like that, you'll be fired.”

Spike let go, mumbled something I think was a curse and stomped off.

Jagger gently took my arm and didn't let go until we were safely in the exam room with the door shut.

“You can't fire him.”

He shook his head. “
He
doesn't know that.”

“No, I mean. We don't want him fired. He's the one who brought Margaret
and
Mason here. He's in on the fraud, Jagger.”

I don't think I'll ever forget the look of pride in Jagger's eyes—or how my heart felt at that moment.

I, of course, had to explain it all in detail, as Jagger was not one, smartly I might add, to take my opinion without proof.

“Good job, Sherlock.” He sat on the stool, took out a toothpick and chewed.

I debated whether to tell him about Mary Louise. He might let me have it for sneaking into her room. It was a risky thing to do, and I wasn't sure if I wanted Jagger to holler at me right now.

“You what?” he shouted after I told him about my visit to Mary Louise. “They
should
lock you up on Ward 200B.”

I sat on the edge of the exam table and fumed. “I can handle myself, Jag, as evidenced by my still being here. And alive and kicking I might add.”

I liked that he didn't tell me not to call him “Jag.”

“Well, do you want me to finish telling you what I found out from Mary Louise before we were interrupted by Dumbo?”

Jagger shook his head—once.

“Okay. I'll skip the Dumbo part. Anyway, she knew. Mary Louise said she knew her brother was involved in the fraud around here.”

Jagger took his toothpick out of his mouth, snapped it in half between two fingers and said, “In your medical opinion, Pauline, do you think she'd make a credible witness?”

I started to say that she had probably been medicated very heavily and then realized his tone. Jagger was being sarcastic. “What's so wrong about me finding that out?”

He sighed. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe because she's a psych patient, a criminal and under the influence of drugs? She's barely useful to us, Sherlock, unless she knows whom Vito worked with. We need to find out who else is involved. Vito's death already had him implicated, and since Mason arrived after Vito was killed, the fraud is continuing.”

I chuckled. “Of course I already
knew
that.” My face burned yet again.

I also knew Jagger didn't believe me—but I was getting used to embarrassing myself in front of him.

Jagger walked me to the dayroom and said goodbye. After stifling a few sighs, I said I'd see him in the morning and wondered where the heck he went at night. My guess was some doctors' quarters around here. He never would go far, that much I knew.

Joanna came into the dayroom, this time with a Barbie Doll dressed as a nurse. How appropriate for this place. I laughed to myself but ignored her so she wouldn't have some kind of attack. There was no bread around to feed her doll, but I came to realize that anything could set off anyone around here.

I turned to watch the television and wondered where Margaret and Mason were. Since Ruby left, there weren't many patients that I talked with anymore. Too risky.

One of the men in red pajamas had the remote control and kept clicking through the channels. Joanna ignored it and told Barbie that she'd take her outside for a walk soon. Callie Jo sat talking to herself, and I wondered if she was able to communicate with her other “selves.” Interesting yet very sad. And a new woman remained silent on the couch.

Did she belong here?

I ignored the television and watched her. Several patients milled about, and she didn't seem to pay them much attention. By the expression on her face, she could be depressed or plain furious that she was here. I couldn't tell yet. I would have to talk to her.

I got up and headed toward her. When I got near, a shriek filled the unit. I realized it was from the new woman.

Novitiate Lalli was on my heels in seconds. “What did you say to her?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. I merely walked near her.”

She ignored me and stroked the woman's arm. “It's all right, Kathy. She won't hurt you. You are safe here.”

“What happened to her?” I asked, figuring the novitiate would say it was confidential, but I had to say something to show my concern. I was like some kind of “freak-out magnet.” Seemed I got a lot of these patients riled up without doing anything.

“Kathy was robbed in her own apartment, and he was still there, dressed in her clothes when she came home.”

I wondered why she associated me with the robber. I tried to give her a smile and softly said, “I won't hurt you, Kathy,” then walked back to my seat and flopped down. I should just go to my room. I was tired after the night I'd had but thought if I went to sleep too early, I'd start a bad habit and keep waking during the middle of the night.

One of the drugs kids took the remote away from Pajama Man and put on
CSI.
Great. Maybe I could learn

something and figure out the case before the actors did. That'd keep my mind busy. I yawned, curled up and watched.

My eyelids fluttered at the sound of talking. I slowly opened them to see I was still in the dayroom,
The Tonight Show
was on, and most of the patients were gone. I reached my arms up to stretch through a yawn and decided to go to bed.

I stood, and something fluttered to the floor from my lap. With my blurry vision, I bent and looked closer.

A straw from a broom.

My hands flew to my mouth so I wouldn't scream out. But who . . . how did it get there, on my lap?

And what did it mean?

There goes my night's sleep. With shaky fingers, I picked it up and stared at the damn thing as if it could tell me. Vinny sat on his perch near the doorway, reading a book. Good for him, but that didn't help me. I thought about asking him if he noticed anyone around me, but then wondered what I'd say if he asked why.

I waited a few minutes then walked toward the nurses' station. Sister Liz had the evening shift. Thank you, Saint Theresa. A cooperative staff member. “Hi,” I said through the window.

She rolled her chair over and slid the window aside. “Not sleepy tonight, child?”

Suddenly I missed my mother—and Goldie.

“Oh, well—” I chuckled. “I just took a long nap on the couch.”

She smiled. “So I noticed. I told Spike not to wake you before he left.”

Spike?

“Why . . . thank you.” I started to turn. “Why would he? Wake me, that is?”

She looked pensive. “I really don't know. It's just that I noticed him near you when I went to pass out the medication.” She shrugged. “No telling why Spike does things around here.”

She didn't much care for him. I could tell by her tone. Good. That tidbit might come in handy in the future. “Sister? Could I? . . . Have a nice night.”

She smiled again.

I needed to talk to Jagger but couldn't have the nurses keep calling him. So, I decided I'd look for him. Jagger was never too far. Where would he be that I could get to?

Ward 200B. Maybe he was talking to Mary Louise without me! I looked around to see that Vinny was engrossed in his book. The only word in the title that I could see from here was “Sex” so I guessed old Vin wouldn't pay any mind to me.

Operating under the theory that if you looked as if you belonged, you'd blend in, I walked down the corridor to Ward 200B, still holding the piece of straw. As I put my hand up to push the door, it swung at me, hitting me in the face.

“Ouch!” My hands flew up and the straw became airborne.

“Great. It's you.”

“Don't get so excited, Jag.” I touched my nose.

“Are you hurt?”

I looked at my hand as if it would be covered with blood. “No, I'm fine.” Even though my nose felt as if a train had rammed into me, I didn't want to make a big deal about it in front of him. “I need to talk to you.” I looked around for the straw. Nothing. Damn.