One Dead Under the Cuckoo's Nest (31 page)

Damn. What a guy.

I gave her a hug and kiss, and then whispered, “I'll be fine, Mother.”

Goldie held me for several minutes while Miles stood silently by.

I slapped both of them on the arm. “Stop it, you guys. I'm only going to work. Not the gallows!” I laughed.

They did too, but theirs seemed forced.

Then again, they knew where I was working.

Jagger had stopped at a filling station so I could change into my Burberry outfit. I'd missed lunch and dinner by the time he'd sneaked me back into the Cortona Institute of Life. I wondered if Mason thought I'd stood him and Margaret up. Maybe he'd lost faith in me. Once in my room, I slumped on my bed just in time before Sister Janet made rounds to check on me.

I almost mentioned seeing her picture in Mary's book, but caught myself. Then I touched my shoulder to make sure the key Jagger had given me was still taped on the inside of my top. Hopefully, no one would ever know about it—and more important: hopefully, I'd never need it.

I hurried out to find Margaret and Mason, but when I passed the “wet pack” room, I heard sobbing. Through the glass window I could see Margaret, wrapped in the sheets with Sister Liz at her side. Fighting the urge to yank open the door and free Margaret, I clenched my fists and turned toward the dayroom.

When I walked around the corner, I noticed Spike sitting on his chair by the door. He grinned at me. What the hell?

I think he liked intimidating me. So, I smiled back, nodded and flopped down on the couch. Joanna and her Barbie doll had the TV controls. Well, Barbie had the controls. Shoot. Guess I'd have to watch whatever the inanimate object chose, because no way was I going to argue with her.

Suddenly the door from the tunnel between the buildings opened. Sister Dolores, looking very serious, walked in followed by two men in suits.

Lieutenant Shatley!

Jagger's friend and a local detective.

Before I knew it, they were talking to Spike and walking him out the door! I jumped up and went to the door. Through the tiny window, I could see them putting handcuffs on Spike.

Yes!

They'd arrested him for his part. Now I felt safer. I slumped into a chair near the doorway and started to laugh. Novitiate Lalli came hurrying out of the nurses' station as if I were having some kind of fit.

“Keep it down, Pauline,” she ordered.

“Um, where'd those men take Spike?”

She looked at me for several seconds. “Where
they all
belong.”

Yikes!

I needed to share Novitiate Lalli's comments with Jagger. Not wanting her to get suspicious if I suddenly asked to see my doctor, I merely smiled and tried to think of what I could do to find him.

She wrinkled her forehead at me and I think she growled. The woman had no love lost for me and vice versa.
She and Spike are two of a kind
, I thought.

Without a word, she walked away and headed toward the nurses' station. I walked down the hallway, turned into my room and entered the bathroom. I looked around to make sure no one had come by, and then stuck my hand under my robe and pajama top to pull out the key.

My heart raced at the thought of using it—and getting caught. I stuck the key in the pocket of my robe, walked to the door, and looked both ways down the hallway.

Cautiously, I walked out. At the dayroom door I stopped. Joanna and Barbie Doll (the plastic one) were arguing over the choice of television shows. I watched from the sidelines and could only stand at the ready in case the doll came flying. Before Joanna noticed me, I eased past a few patients and went by the nurses' station.

At the alcove, I decided to turn toward the stairs leading to the tunnel. After I looked over my shoulder, I touched the key. The cold metal sent a chill up my arm, but I grasped it and took it out. Checking once more to see that no one was around, I stuck it into the lock, turned, heard the click and opened the door. On the other side now, I shut the door, leaned against it and let out my breath.

I listened for any footsteps or voices. After sticking the key back into my pocket, I gingerly walked down the stairs. At the bottom was an alcove with a set of windows and a door to the outside, which looked like the one Jagger had taken me out of.

To the right was the tunnel leading under the buildings. Surrounded by beige walls and, above my head, pipes that occasionally gurgled, I didn't relish the idea of traveling through the tunnel and getting lost. So I decided to look out the window first.

With the outside security lights on, I could see the Cupid fountain through the branches of the trees. A taxicab pulled around the curved drive and stopped. I eased back from the window. A man dressed in a suit got out. Maybe a doctor. Maybe a visitor. Didn't matter to me right then. I looked past him to see the black Suburban in the physician's parking space.

Bingo.

At least I knew Jagger was on the grounds. After sucking in a breath, I stuck the key into the door's lock.

“Ha! He's a shit anyway.”

My hand froze at the sound of a female voice. Within seconds, I yanked the key out of the lock, stuck it back into my pocket and ducked into the alcove. I pressed myself as far back behind the wall that bordered the door as I could. Then I looked down to make sure my feet didn't stick out and pulled both back a bit more.

“Yeah, he sure is,” said another female voice, much closer now.

I held my breath as if getting an X-ray and waited and prayed.

The voices grew distant.

I let out all the air from my lungs and leaned a bit forward. One of the women was Nurse Lawson. The other didn't look familiar, but at least they were passing through the door and up the stairs. With a sigh, I ran out, unlocked the door, and was outside, relocking it before I could sigh again.

Looking around to make sure no one was about, I hid behind tree after tree until I was closer to the SUV. I also used up a few novenas hoping Jagger was inside. A long shot, but I figured, where else would he go?

When I got near the suburban, I could see a shadow in the driver's seat and smiled. Once at the door, I whispered, “Jagger,” and tapped on the window.

He quickly turned. “Damn it, Pauline. What the hell are you doing out here?”

Before I knew it, I was sitting on the passenger's side, saying, “They, Lieutenant Shatley that is, just arrested Spike.” I was so proud of myself.

Jagger took out a toothpick, unwrapped it, placed it between his teeth and remained silent for a few minutes.

Geez! “Did you hear me?”

He looked over. “Questioning. They took him in for questioning.”

“I . . . you . . . damn it! How did you? Why didn't you
tell
me?”

He broke the toothpick in two and threw it on the dashboard. “After I finished my coffee, I was going to do just that.”

I looked to see his half-empty cup in the holder between us.

“I'll bet you don't know what Novitiate Lalli just said about Spike.”

He remained quiet.

“Ha! See, you don't.” I sat there and started to twirl my thumbs.

“Of course I don't. So you are going to tell me.”

As if he had lassoed my tongue and pulled my words out, I babbled on what she'd said about Spike ending with, “Where
they all
belong! That's got to be a clue. Spike should go where they all belong.”

“Where
who
belong?”

“Um. I don't know that part, Jagger. But she knows something. I just feel it.”

“I trust your instincts, Sherlock.”

“You do?”

“That's why you're here.” He took his cup and polished off the rest of the coffee, opened his door and got out. “Let's get you back inside before you get caught.”

Getting back in was much easier with my “doctor.” A few nurses walked past us in the tunnel and didn't even pay attention to me. They did, of course, look at Jagger.

At the top of the stairs leading to my unit, he turned toward me. “Keep an eye on Novitiate Lalli. Try to find out who she's talking about—but don't be obvious. Find out where she thinks they all belong, too.”

I stood there still marveling at the words, “I trust your instincts, Sherlock.” I'm not too sure what he said after that, but it had to do with the case. Oh, yeah, me finding out more about what the novitiate had said.

How the hell was I going to do that?

I ended up safely in the dayroom, observing. Jagger had left and no one was the wiser. The unit bustled with its usual after-dinner activity. One red-pajama man slept on the chair by the door to the tunnel. Another sat arguing with Joanna and her Barbie doll about what he wanted to watch on television. And Kathy, the new patient, sat on a couch sniffling.

I sat down next to her. “Hi. I'm Pauline,” I said very softly, refraining from touching her in any way.

She turned to look at me.

“Hi,” I repeated. “Did you eat your dinner tonight?”

“I didn't see you there.” She kept looking at me.

I felt like a specimen under a microscope. “Oh, well, no. You are correct. I was with my doctor.”

“Even my doctor can't help me.
He
ruined everything.” A tear escaped her eye.

I wanted to give her a friendly hug, but knew better than to make contact. “Things will get better. You'll get better and go back home soon. Don't give him—don't give
anyone
—that much power over you. It'll take time.”

“You think so? Sometimes I feel so . . . like I really do
belong
here.” Suddenly her eyes widened as if she thought she'd just insulted me. “Sorry.”

“No need to be.” I smiled to lighten the mood. Kathy wasn't brought here like Mason or Margaret, but Kathy did need to be here. Only temporarily.

“Where'd they take that orderly?” she asked.

I looked toward the door to the tunnel and realized Kathy must have seen them take Spike in for questioning. Maybe she heard something.

“Gee, I don't know. Maybe they arrested him!” I laughed again.

“They arrested
him.
The one that did that to . . . me.”

I felt like a creep. “I'm so sorry, Kathy. I didn't mean to bring up—” I sighed. “He deserved to be arrested.”

She waved her hand. “There's no need to be sorry. I have to toughen up. That's what my psychiatrist says. I have to let go and be thankful that I am here. Alive, that is.”

“True. That sounds like good advice.”

She let out a sigh and touched my hand. I didn't pull back.

“I think you might be right about that orderly though,” Kathy said.

“Spike?”

She nodded.

Great. Now we were getting somewhere. “How do you know? Did you hear something?”

She looked around. Vinny had replaced Spike on the chair and was watching a DVD on a handheld screen. Good old Vinny. Couldn't trust him to watch the lot of us, but he was good as far as keeping his nose out of our business. I'd bet my next paycheck that his movie was X-rated.

She tightened her hold on my arm. “I heard what the men who took him said.”

I wanted to jump up and shake her but thought better. Seemed Kathy had to be handled very delicately. She'd been through quite an ordeal, and I didn't want to cause any more stress.

“He said he didn't do it and the man in the dark suit said they only wanted to talk to him.”

That much I knew.

She continued and finally released my arm. “Spike. That was his name?”

I nodded. “That'd be him.”

“Spike said he was not taking all the blame. He said he'd spill his guts to get back at . . . ”

I felt myself leaning closer and closer to Kathy, wishing that I had that imaginary lasso that Jagger always used on me. She couldn't have forgotten what she was going to say! What she heard!

“Go on,” I nudged.

She looked behind me. I turned to see Novitiate Lalli sweeping down the hallway like a tornado. As she got closer, I knew she didn't want me talking to Kathy.

But was it because Kathy had been traumatized? Or because Kathy had heard something?

It didn't matter what Kathy had been about to tell me, since Novitiate Lalli whisked her away, but not before she scolded me with, “Do not upset the patients, Pauline.”

As if I weren't a patient!

Well, I wasn't, but she didn't know that. Hopefully.

I got up and walked around the unit until I found Mason in the dayroom without the TV. Two men in red pajamas were sitting on the couch talking; the third was asleep. I had to laugh to myself. They were like a club, like the ladies of the Red Hat Society, with those outfits on. The fellow sleeping seemed to be the oldest and had been sleeping nearly every time I'd seen him.

“Hey, Mason.” I sat down opposite him at the table.

He was playing solitaire. “Hi, Pauline. Did you have a good day? I missed seeing you at the meals.”

“I did have a good day. Went out on a pass.” No need to fill him in on nakedness in a health spa, Mother's special hidden cookies, or Jagger's butt or chest or . . . no need.

He looked up sharply. “And you came back?”

Oops. I merely nodded. “The cops came and took Spike in for questioning.”

His eyes widened. “I'll be damned. Good. So, will I be out of here soon?”

“One can only hope. We need to know more about whom Spike worked with.” Or more likely for. “Did anything go on while I was gone?” I pictured Margaret in the wet sheets.

Mason set the cards down. “I had a nice lunch with Margaret. Her son sounds like a wonderful child. I have no children of my own, but I have a niece and nephew. Twins. About Kyle's age. That's Margaret's son.”

I nodded.

“Oh, she told you. Well, the woman with that fool doll—”

“Joanna.”

“Yes. Well, Joanna made a scene in the dining room yet again.”