The Lonely Lady (47 page)

“I’m probably just an old fool. The girl must have sent letters like that to everyone she knows.”

“It doesn’t matter, Daddy,” Susan had said. “She’s crying for help and you’re answering. That’s what matters.”

“Something in her letter got to me. I remember how frightened she was the day I met her.”

“Was she pretty?”

“In a way, I guess. Maybe underneath all that makeup she had on.”

“Were you attracted to her, Daddy?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Daddy.”

“Why does it always have to be something like that?” he said indignantly. “Stop acting like a romantic child.”

She laughed aloud and kissed his cheek again. “I’m not the romantic in the family, Daddy. You are.”

He stared at the frosting of snow outside the window. Maybe she was right after all. He was here, wasn’t he?

A white-uniformed nurse stopped in front of him. “Are you the visitor for Jane Randolph?”

He nodded, getting to his feet.

“Would you follow me, please. Dr. Sloan would like to see you.”

A young red-bearded man in a white coat rose from behind the desk and gripped his hand firmly. “I’m Dr. Sloan, Jane’s doctor.”

“Al Millstein.”

The doctor toyed with an unlit pipe. “Reception mentioned that you came in from California.”

Millstein nodded. “I hope I can see her. I’m sorry I didn’t know about the visiting hours.”

“That’s okay. Matter of fact I’m glad you came when you did. I might have missed you otherwise. Are you related to Jane?”

“No. Just a friend.”

“Oh. Have you known her a long while?”

“Not really. Just a few days.”

“I don’t understand. You knew each other only a few days and yet in all the time she’s been here you’re the only person she has written to or tried to get in touch with.”

“You knew about the letter?”

“We encouraged her to write. We thought we could get a line to her family that way.”

“You mean that no one’s come to visit, no friends, no family?”

“That’s right. As far as we know she’s completely alone in the world. Until she wrote you, we had no contact with anyone that she knew.”

“Jesus.”

“Since you’re here I must assume you want to help her. The first thing I have to know is exactly what your relationship with her was.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to shock you, Doctor.”

“You don’t understand, Mr. Millstein. In my profession one learns never to be shocked at anything. I already assumed that you had been lovers.”

Millstein laughed aloud. “I’m sorry but you’re wrong, Doctor. I only saw her twice and that was never part of it.” He saw the puzzled expression on the doctor’s face and continued. “I’m a detective with the Santa Monica police and the only contact I’ve had with her was as her arresting officer.”

“If that is all, why did you come?”

“I felt sorry for her. When I met her there was a very good chance they would send her to jail for something she didn’t do. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen. When I got her letter, I felt the same way. Something was happening to her that was beyond her control. I had to see what I could do to help.”

The doctor was silent as he filled and lit his pipe.

“She said in her letter that you were considering letting her out,” Millstein said.

“We have been. She’s really done very well since she’s been in here. But there were a few things still puzzling us. That’s why we’ve been hesitating.”

“What things?”

“Before we get to that, you should know why she is in here.”

Millstein nodded silently.

“She was committed here from the East Elmwood General Hospital last September to undergo detoxification. She had a severe problem of chemical drug abuse.”

“How bad was it?”

“She was suffering from paranoia and hallucinations resulting from the combined use of various drugs such as L.S.D. and amphetamines in addition to tranquilizers, barbiturates and marijuana. Before being sent here she had a record of three arrests, two for prostitution and soliciting, one for physically attacking a man she claimed had been following and annoying her, which was, of course, not true, but a typical symptom of drug-induced psychosis. In addition she had twice attempted suicide. The first time she tried to throw herself in front of a subway car but was saved by the alertness of a subway patrolman. The second time she took an overdose of barbiturates, which was pumped from her stomach by a fire department rescue squad. It was the last arrest which led to her being here. The man she had attacked dropped the criminal charges against her but she was still hallucinating and she was committed to Creedmore by the examining panel at East Elmwood.”

Millstein was silent.

“Were they any signs of this problem when you knew her, Mr. Millstein?” the doctor asked.

“I don’t know, but then I’m not a doctor. What I did notice was that she was highly nervous and at one point very much afraid.”

“Do you know if she was on drugs then?”

“Not really. But in California we assume that all the young people are on something. If it’s not grass it’s pills. If they don’t overdo it we try to look the other way. Otherwise we wouldn’t have jails big enough to hold them all.”

“Well, anyway, I think we have the drug problem cured, at least temporarily. We cannot know what will happen when she gets outside again.”

“You’re going to release her then?”

“We’ll have to. She comes up for re-evaluations by the panel in another two weeks. She’ll clear it without any problems I’m sure.”

“But you’re still not satisfied, are you?”

“Frankly speaking, no. I feel that we haven’t gotten to the real problem, whatever it was that pushed her to this. That’s why I wanted to get in touch with her friends or family. I’d feel better if I knew she had someplace to go and people who cared about her. I would want her to go into therapy.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“She could slide back. The pressures would be the same as before.

Millstein reflected on what a fool he had been to think there was anything he could do. He should have sent the letter and forgotten about it. He wasn’t God. He couldn’t stop anyone from going to hell in their own way.

“Did she ever mention the name JeriLee to you?” the doctor asked.

“No, who was she?”

“She was Jane’s sister. Sort of an idol, I guess. The bright child in the family, the one that got all the attention. Jane loved and hated her at the same time—true sibling rivalry. Part of Jane’s problem was that she wanted to be JeriLee and couldn’t. By the time she realized that was what she wanted, she had gone too far in another direction and couldn’t get back.”

“Did you try to locate the sister?”

“The only way we could do that was through Jane and she said JeriLee was dead.” He looked at the detective. “We don’t have the facilities for personal investigation out here.”

“You mean you don’t believe her story?”

“I neither believe nor disbelieve it. I just don’t know.”

“I see.” Millstein nodded slowly. “May I see her now?”

“Of course.” He pressed a button on the desk. “Thank you for coming in and talking to me.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I just hope I have been of some help.”

“In my business, everything helps,” the doctor said as the nurse came into the room. “Would you please take Mr. Millstein to the visitors’ room and bring Jane to see him.

“One more thing, Mr. Millstein. Try not to express surprise when you see Jane. Remember that she’s just gone through chemical and electrical shock therapy, which tends to slow down reactions and create some temporary amnesia. The treatments have been halted now but the effects will not wear off for a few more days.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, Doctor.”

***

The visitors’ room was small but comfortable with gaily printed curtains at the windows.

She came into the room hesitantly, half hiding behind the nurse. “Jane, here is that nice Mr. Millstein come to see you,” the nurse said in a professionally jovial tone.

“Hello, Jane,” he said, forcing a smile. She was thin, much thinner than he had remembered. Her hair was long but brushed neatly and her eyes very large in her pinched face. “It’s nice to see you again.”

For a moment she looked at him without recognition. Then a light seemed to dawn in her eyes and she smiled hesitantly. “Detective Millstein.”

“Yes.”

“My friend, Detective Millstein. My friend.” She took a step toward him, the tears coming to her eyes. “My friend, Detective Millstein.”

“Yes, Jane. How are you?”

She took his hand and pressed it to her face. “You’ve come to take me out of this place? The way you did the last time?”

He felt the lump in his throat. “I hope so, Jane. But these things take time, you know.”

“I’m better now. You can see that, can’t you? I won’t do any of those foolish things anymore. I’m all cured.”

“I know that, Jane,” he said soothingly. “You’ll be out soon.”

She rested her head against his chest. “I hope so. I don’t like it here. They hurt you sometimes.”

He stroked her head slowly. “It was for your own good. You’ve been a very sick girl.”

“I know I was sick. But you don’t cure sick people by hurting them more.”

“It’s over now,” he said reassuringly. “Dr. Sloan told me the treatments are all finished.”

“You got my letter?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You’re the only friend I have. There was no one else to write to.”

“What about JeriLee?”

A frightened look came into her eyes. “You know about her?” she whispered.

“Yes. Dr. Sloan told me about her. Why didn’t you write her?”

“Didn’t he tell you that she was dead?”

“Is she?”

She nodded.

“Was she nice?”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining. “She was beautiful. Everybody loved her. Everybody wanted to take care of her. And she was so bright she could do anything she wanted. When she was around, you couldn’t see anyone else. At one time we were very close, then we drifted apart and when I went looking for her it was too late. She was gone.”

“How did it happen?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

“She committed suicide,” she whispered.

“How?”

There was a tortured look on her face. “She took pills, fell in front of a train or jumped off a bridge,” she cried in a pain-filled voice. “What does it matter how she died? It only matters that she’s gone and I can’t get her back.”

He put his arms around her shoulders as she sobbed convulsively against his chest. He could feel the thin sharp bones through the cotton dress.

“I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”

“All right. We won’t talk about her anymore.”

“I have to get out of here,” she said. “If I don’t I will really go crazy. You don’t know what it’s like in here. They don’t let you do anything. It’s as if we’re less than animals.”

“You’ll be out soon.”

“I want to go back to work. When I get out I know an agent that will get me a job dancing again.”

He remembered the typewriter in her apartment and the scripts she told him the agent was returning to her. “How about your writing?” he asked.

“Writing?” she asked, a puzzled look in her eyes. “You must be mixed up. I wasn’t the writer. JeriLee was.”

Chapter 22

Policemen often spend their time walking backward through other people’s lives, retracing the steps from the grave to the cradle. It was a habit Millstein had fallen into over the years.

After his talk with Jane he had gone back to Sloan’s office. “I didn’t expect to see you, Mr. Millstein,” the doctor said in surprise.

“You said something about not being able to carry out a complete investigation of your patients, Dr. Sloan, and that you sometimes thought it would be very helpful.”

“Yes, I said that.”

“You thought that if you knew more about Jane perhaps you could do more to help her?”

“I think so.”

“I’ve got a week off. Would you object to my help?”

“I would be most grateful, Mr. Millstein. Almost anything you can find out will be more than we know. Do you have any ideas?”

“I have some, Doctor. But I’d prefer to wait and get something firm before I go shooting my mouth off.”

“Okay. What can I do?”

“You could let me read that commitment paper on her.”

“You’ve got it.”

Millstein read it quickly. There wasn’t much information. He looked at the doctor. “Where would I get the details behind this?”

“You’d have to go back to the source. In this case East Elmwood General. Back of them are the courts and the police, but you’d have to get that information from East Elmwood’s files.”

After leaving the hospital, he had gone back to his hotel and stretched out on the bed. The time change had finally caught up to him. When he awoke it was almost dinnertime. He looked at his watch. It would be after four o’clock in California. His daughter should be home from school by now.

Her voice was bright as she answered the phone. “Did you see her, Daddy?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How was she?”

He put it all in one word. “Sad.”

There was silence at her end.

“I don’t know if I can make myself clear, Susan, but it’s as if she split herself in two parts and one part of her is dead.”

“Poor thing. Is there anything you can do? Was she glad to see you?”

“I don’t know if I can do anything. And, yes, I think she was glad to see me. Do you know what she told me, Susan? She said that I was the only friend she had. Imagine that. And we scarcely knew each other.”

“I can’t imagine anyone being so alone. I hope you can do something for her, Daddy. You will try, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m very proud of you, Daddy,” she said.

***

The hospital was set apart from the rest of the buildings around it. Across the street was a small park, on the corner opposite a large diner was a sign advertising breakfast for sixty-five cents. He paused on the cement steps listening to the voices of the people making their way in and out of the hospital. Most of them were speaking Spanish. Not with the soft accent of the Mexican that he was used to, but still the language of the poor.