The Imposter (24 page)

It
was late afternoon and Alex was frantic.  She could not find Monique anywhere. 
She had called the Pavilion before she had left the hospital, and the staff had
assured her that Dr. Desmonde was not there.  Alex, feeling increasingly
apprehensive and useless at work, called Martin's cab, dropped Angie's cross at
her jewelry store over on Magazine Street, and went home.  Even Martin's humor
and jokes had not been able to cheer her up on her way home.   She was worried
and just had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her fearful.

She
glanced at her kitchen clock for the tenth time since getting home.  It was
almost 7 o'clock in the evening.  She again phoned Monique and left a voice
mail.   The charge nurse at the Pavilion told her that Dr.  Desmonde had turned
over call to the senior psychiatric resident at 6 o'clock that evening.  Alex,
her frustration mounting, tried to reach Jack.  When he didn't answer his cell
or text, she called police headquarters and was told that Commander
Françoise
 was
unavailable.  Alex pressed the watch officer for more information and declared
an emergency.  The officer finally admitted that the Commander was out of New
Orleans for the evening, working on a case somewhere either in Mississippi or
Alabama.  He wasn't sure.  The man offered to put Alex in contact with someone
else, but she refused. 

After
the phone call, she chided herself, thinking that Monique and Jack were
spending a quiet evening alone -- out of New Orleans, probably in an isolated
hideaway on the Gulf Coast.  That kept her satisfied for a few minutes.  If
they were together and she was this worried, she would probably murder them
herself for not answering her frantic messages and texts.  

Time
wore on.  Alex didn't like what she was feeling.  She was so unsettled, she
poured herself a second glass of wine and sat on the sofa in her living room. 
As her mind clicked through the events of the day, she kept refocusing on the
look that Whitset had given Monique in the executive committee meeting.  His
behavior toward the psychiatrist had chilled her to the bone.  It terrified
her.  It was evident that he was enraged with her.  Monique had the power to
essentially put Whitset out of work and, more than likely, Whitset knew that as
well.   This concerned Alex because she didn't think Whitset was normal or
rational.   His behavior with the Smithsons had been unnerving, particularly
that singsong routine she had witnessed.  Oh, if only she could reach either
Jack or Monique, she would feel so much better.  Besides, she knew Monique had
found something in Whitset's office and her curiosity was killing her.

She
jumped up when she heard a knock at her door.  She ran from the living room to
the foyer and felt a twinge of disappointment when she saw Robert on her
porch.  Well, not disappointment, but she had hoped it was Monique.  She opened
the door, smiling.   Robert looked great.  He was impeccably dressed, clean
shaven, and his eyes sparkled at the sight of her.   He truly was a hot guy,
she thought to herself.

"Hey,
what a surprise!  What's up?  Have you heard from Monique or Jack?"  Her
voice sounded strained and she looked stressed.

Robert
looked surprised at her greeting.  "No, Alex, why? What's happened?  Has
something else happened?"

"Nothing. 
Nothing really.  At least, nothing I know of.   I've been trying to reach
Monique since right after the meeting this afternoon and I can't find her.  The
hospital said she turned over call.  She doesn't answer her home phone or her
cell and ...." Alex paused for a moment and continued in a concerned
voice, "Oh, Robert, I guess I'm frightened for her.  I'm afraid Whitset
might go after her.  He was so angry!”

Robert
nodded in agreement, his face also showing concern.  "Yeah, that he was.  
Have you been able to locate Jack?"

"No,
I've tried.  I pressed the watch officer at NOPD.  He said Jack was out of the
state,  that he was investigating over in Alabama or Mississippi.  I would
think his cell phone would work over there, wouldn't you?" Alex paused for
a moment, thinking.  "I bet he found something out on Whitset.  He said he
was going to run a check on him in Alabama!"  Alex was breathless for a
moment, then her face fell.

"What's
the matter, Alex?  If he found something out on Whitset, that's good, isn't
it?"  Robert looked at her intently.

"Yes,
of course it is! I had convinced myself that he and Monique were off on some
romantic interlude or something.  I guess I'm a hopeless romantic.  Heaven
knows, they certainly deserve it after today."

Robert
attempted to look cheerful.  "Well, maybe they are investigating
together.  Anyway, I'm sure they're fine.  Have you had any dinner?"

Alex
shook her head.  "No, … would you like for me to make something for us?  I
could whip us up something simple.  Salad or something."

"I’d
be glad to take you out, if you'd like?"

"No,
Robert, thanks.  I prefer to stay in.  I feel better here, particularly if the
phone rings and it's either Jack or Monique.  How about a fresh chicken salad
and a glass of  Pinot Noir?"

"Well,
you know they can reach you on your  cell, Alex.  But, that being said, chicken
salad and wine sounds great.   Are you sure I'm not imposing?  We could order
out," Robert ventured.

"No,
no.  It will get my mind off things to be busy in the kitchen.  I appreciate
the company.  I hate to be anxious alone.  Come on back to the kitchen."

Robert
and Alex retreated to Alex's newly renovated gourmet kitchen.  Robert looked
around, once again pleased at how beautifully Alex had renovated her New
Orleans home.  He reminded himself that he had never really appreciated her
talent and abilities when they were married.  He guessed he would be sorry for
that for the rest of his natural life.  He eyed the oak kitchen furniture
appreciably and said, "I still love this furniture."

Alex
smiled at him.  "Yes, it's beautiful.  One of our best purchases …." 
They both remembered the beautiful fall afternoon when they had purchased the
lovely antique oak furniture during a sojourn to the Virginia countryside. 
They had absolutely no money at that point in time.  Robert had been a resident
at the University of Virginia and she a staff nurse in the ICU at the
University hospital.  They had fallen in love with the honey colored oak
furniture and had purchased it on impulse.  Robert had worked three straight weekends
in the emergency department at Martha Jefferson Hospital and Alex had worked
many overtime shifts to pay for that extravagance.  It'd been worth it.  They
had dined on it during their marriage, and spent many evenings sitting around
it talking with good friends.  Additionally, the couple used the table as a
desk and spent many evenings studying around it together when they were
students.  The table, chairs, and sideboard were so large they had practically
taken up the entire student housing apartment. 

Alex
was again remembering their first meal together at the table and how it was
followed by a night of splendid and unparalleled passion in their marriage --
the night she  became pregnant with the child she later lost.  That seemed to
start the downward spiral of what she thought was a perfect marriage.  She
guessed Robert was remembering the same evening.   Suddenly, they were
interrupted by the shrill ringing of her telephone.

Alex
quickly picked up the receiver.  It was Donald Montgomery.  She winced at the
sound of his whiny voice.

"Destephano,
have you gotten Monique Desmonde straightened out?  This shit is bothering me. 
We can't have her blabbing to the press.  Not good for us.  Not good at
all."  Montgomery was whimpering into the phone.

Alex
gritted her teeth and mouthed to Robert that it was Don.  "No, Don.  I
haven't talked with Monique.  I've been calling her since right after our
meeting.  I don't know where she is."

"Shit,
she's probably at home writing her press release.  Fix this, Alex.  I mean it!
Your butt's on the line!"

Alex
could hear the irrational anger beginning to surface in the CEO's voice. 
"I'll do my best, Don.  Did you look at Whitset's contract?"  Alex
skillfully returned the ball to Montgomery's court.

"No. 
I had a cocktail party to go to.  I'll have it on your desk in the
morning."  Don was whining again.

"Good. 
Make sure you do.  Whitset's the major player here.  Make sure you can control
him.  I'm not your problem and neither is Monique."  Alex knew her voice
was condescending, but she didn't care.

"Dammit,
Alex! Desmonde is the problem, not Whitset!"

"Don,
you and I both know that there are a dozen Whitset's for every Monique
Desmonde.  You need to stand tall on this.  If you lose Dr.  Desmonde, you will
lose psychiatry at CCMC."

"I
don't give a damn about psychiatry! Let the wackos go! I just don't want any
bad press!"

"You'll
destroy our reputation as a world class hospital.  You must have a psychiatric
service to keep the world class designation.   You're going to get bad press if
you don't get Whitset in line.  After all, you are the CEO." Alex knew she
was venturing on the fringe, but she didn't care.  Don had already tried to
fire her once this year -- back in February.  Her appointment by the hospital
board of trustees made it impossible for Don to fire her without their
approval.   And, so far, they really liked her.

"All
right, all right.  Just fix Monique."  He was backing down and his voice
was contrite.

Alex
road her advantage home.  "Look, Don.  Think about it.  Your win-win
position is to keep Dr. Desmonde and psychiatry -- even if Whitset and his
management company have to go.  Think about that."

"Okay,
okay.  Just keep Desmonde away from the press, promise?"  Don's voice was
placating now, sugarcoated. 

Alex
was disgusted.  "I won't have to keep Monique from the press if you give
her what she needs to provide safe, reasonable, standard care.  Get the
picture, Don?" Alex 's voice was defiant.

"Yeah,
yeah.  I'll do what I can.  You do your part."  He clicked off the phone
without saying goodbye.

"Bye
to you too, you idiot!"  Alex slammed down the phone.  "I hate that
Mother Fucker," she grumbled to Robert.

Robert
laughed.  "Whoa!  That's rough talk for you Alex.  Can I assume your boss
hung up on you?"

"You
bet he did.  Slime ball!" Alex was quiet for a moment.  Then she said,
"Robert, I'm going to tell you the truth.  I don't know how much longer I
can stand working with him.  He's an absolute idiot, a model of incompetence. 
He's the Peter Principle personified.  I have a very interesting opportunity on
my desk at the hospital.  A large, managed care group is looking for a
corporate attorney.  Of course, I would have to leave New Orleans …." 
Alex demurred a bit.  "I'll never understand why the board keeps him
here."

Robert
gave her a matter of fact look and said, "Sure you do, Alex.  For all of
his faults, we all know why they keep Don around.   Montgomery is a financial
wizard.  Crescent City is one of the few hospitals in New Orleans that is
financially solvent.   No one cares that he is rude, inappropriate, and
non-appreciative of nurses, physicians, and other providers.  No one cares that
he is insensitive to needs of patients, staff, and families.  They only care
about money. 
We
are making money and that is ultimately what it's all
about -- the bottom line, like it or not.  CCMC has held together when other
hospitals have gone out of business or have been bought up by conglomerates. 
Don will skillfully maneuver CCMC through health care reform.  He understands
the health care portability act better than the politicians that wrote it. 
That, my dear, is very simply Mr. Montgomery’s strength."

Alex
sighed.  "Yeah, I know Robert.  But Don truthfully doesn't give a rip
about the care that patients receive.  He doesn't even know about clinical
care.  It seems unlikely that his success will continue."

Robert
shrugged his shoulders.  "Rest assured, it will continue as long as he
keeps giving the physicians the technology they crave and the raises they
deserve.  I hate to give the man any accolades, but he's doing a fairly good
job, all things considered.  Even the nursing salaries are competitive, I
hear."

"Yeah,
but the quality of care is dropping and the working conditions suck.   The
nurses have absolutely no support.  Betty Favre treats them like street
workers, not like professionals.  Money is important to nurses, but so is
professionalism, research, and continuing education -- important aspects of a
nurse’s role that Favre refuses to recognize.  Motivation and morale is almost
zilch at CCMC among nursing staff."  Alex shook her head, "It's
actually very sad because CCMC has some of the best nurses I have ever
seen."

"Yes,
a fact which the physician group is profoundly concerned about.   None of them
like Favre."  Robert paused for a moment and winked at her, "Don't
say anything to anyone, but I think Favre may take a fall in a few
months."

"Robert,"
Alex's voice was gleeful, "That's the best news I've heard." She ran
over and hugged him.