Asylum Heights

by Austin R. Moody

The Marshall spoke with considerable restraint, “This is Marshall Furland Winters. Is this Mrs. Silver, the mother of Johnnie Silver?”

  She replied excitedly, “Yes, have you found him?”

  The Marshall answered slowly meting out his words, “I certainly hope not, Mrs. Silver, but I think that I might have.”

  She said, “I don't understand. You are being rather strange in your answer to my question.”

  The Marshall said, “Right now I’m not sure, but we are going to know if it is him very shortly, and that is all that I can tell you right now. I will call you just as soon as I know, rest assured.”

  The lady gave him a very weak, “Thank you.”

  The Marshall concluded with, “I will not keep you in the dark over this a minute longer than I have to, Mrs. Silver.” That said, he hung up the receiver and called the morgue, “I think we have the identity of our mystery victim in the Souinlovey murder as well as the perpetrator. I will collect all of the information needed to identify the victim and will have it in your hands by tomorrow afternoon.”

  The next afternoon he made all of the connections, and it was confirmed that the Souinlovey Creek murder victim was indeed Johnnie Silver. His next chore was to call his mother and tell her that her son was dead, murdered, and that he had knowledge of who did it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  THE HALLUCINATION

  Glen had a very bad experience. On January 15, 1934, he felt alternately chilled, then feverish and weak. The following late afternoon he was outside the service station when he suddenly saw Ma Hailes standing beside the gas pumps. She was beckoning to him to come to her. He was totally mystified and felt sure that some other old lady who looked like his long dead grandmother had happened to be there. He hurried to the spot where she was, but just before he got to her she literally disappeared, actually dissolved before his eyes. There was no one at the place where he had seen her. This disturbed him very deeply. He didn’t know what was happening to him.

  He found Petrous Porter in the back of the station and asked him, “Petrous, do you find anything wrong with me?”

  “No boss, you look just fine to me, why do you ask?” He replied.

  “You don’t want to know.” Glen answered because he didn’t know how to describe what he had seen. With that he went to his room and packed a bag. He still had the weakness and he continued, “I’m going home to talk with my father, I don’t know exactly when I will get back, but I will call you as soon as I know.” He had the same malaise that he had the day before. He first went to the cafe and called his boss and friend, Salvatore Palermo. He told him the whole story and asked if he knew a good doctor in New Orleans who might be able to give him a thorough checkup to determine if, and if so, what it was that was wrong with him.

  Sal said, “I’ll call my doctor right away and advise him that you are going to call him and make an appointment. He is one of the best physicians in the entire Southeastern United States in the specialty of internal medicine. If anyone can get to the bottom of all this, he’ll be the man. When will you be coming to New Orleans?”

  Glen said, “I want to go to see my parents and tell them what is happening to me, I’ll not be more than a couple days. I will certainly call you as soon as I know the date that I will arrive. In fact, I’d like for you to contact the doctor for me when I advise you when I will be there. I also will need a reservation at the Chartreuse Hotel at the same time.”

  Sal told him, “I will take care of it. I just want you to know that I am very concerned about you, we all have a pretty big investment in you and want you well.”

  Glen kept the joke alive by saying, “I thought that I was a true friend of yours, but now I see that is all a sham. You are much more interested in my performance to keep the organization intact than a paisano that is your brother. I feel tawdry and used.”

  “We’ll talk about this when you get to New Orleans. I didn’t know you were so sensitive and got your feelings hurt so easily. We won’t let that come between us, however, I’ll think of something to salve your hurts when you get here.”

  “You always know just how to make me feel better. I can hardly wait to see what you are talking about. I’ll be there in a few days,” Glen rejoined, and then hung up. He went to his car, put the bag in the trunk and filled up at the pump. He took the time to go into the service station and get his mother candy and a pocketknife for Papa Hailes. He drove along highway 84 toward Quitman and Hale. He wondered what was causing his hallucination and knew that he had to get to the bottom of this ominous thing that was creating so much chaos within his body. He could still see Ma Hailes motioning for him to come to her and the sudden way in which she departed. Two and a half hours later he pulled into the yard at the home place. Everything was perfectly still within the house. He entered the back of the place and went directly to his room and he didn’t go to the bathroom because he decided that might wake up his parents, so he opted to remove his clothes and rested on top of the sheets and covers.

  He woke up hearing the other occupants come to life in the other bedroom. He got up and went to the bathroom. He wasn’t sure if his parents knew that he had even returned. He certainly hoped so because his mother wouldn’t know to fix his breakfast. He called out to them. “Good morning, you have a guest in Glen’s bedroom.”

  Papa Hailes came to his room and embraced him, “Well, let me look at you.”

  “Do I look o.k., Papa? The reason that I ask is because I have something that is very wrong with me,” He related the Ma Hailes episode to his father then amended, “I just wanted to see you all and to let you know what was happening to your favorite child.”

  “But when will you come home to stay? We need you here to start getting ready for planting, and to help with the chores.”

  Glen said, “I will answer your questions in the order asked. First, I came home to see you because I haven’t been here for three months, and also I haven’t been feeling up to par. I am going to New Orleans in the morning to see a friend and his doctor. It’s probably nothing, but I want to know before I come back to help with the chores and help get ready for plowing. I haven’t talked with my boss yet on when he thinks I will be able to leave my job. I am sure you both agree that the money I have been making has been substantial, and we can’t afford for me to lose it, at least right now. The answer to question two is no, not right now. I think you can understand by my comment about my boss.” His mother was apparently placated by his answers so Glen ended it at that point. He said, “I am going to leave for New Orleans early in the morning.”

  Neither his father nor his mother were yet awake at that time, so he left them a note, got his valise and put it in the Studebaker. He left at 6:00 a.m. and at 11:30 he stopped at Slidell and ate a good breakfast.

  He then drove on and at 2:30 in the afternoon he pulled into the parking area at the Chartreuse Hotel in New Orleans. He immediately called Sal to inform him that he was in town, and to ask him if he could call his doctor for an appointment the next day. He told Sal he would call the following morning to find out the appointment time. He didn’t have any desire to know what Sal had planned for him with regard to what he had pledged during their last telephone conversation in Mississippi. He wanted to find out what was wrong with him before he could think of anything festive.

  The following morning Sal called to advise him that he was to see Doctor William Brennan at 2:00 that afternoon. He got there early to get all his paper work done in order to see the doctor at the appointed time.

  When this had been accomplished, he was greeted by one of his nurses. She took him to the examining room and told him her name was Conchita. She was old and dowdy, but pleasant.

  She took his blood pressure, pulse and respiration, and left the room. Suddenly the door opened and Doctor Brennan arrived. He was very professional and looked the part, with heavy glasses and a clean, crisp lab coat. He was followed shortly thereafter by another nurse who was much younger. The nurse’s name was R
ose. She had curly black hair and a beautiful face with black eyes to match her hair. She was neat, had generous breasts, and a broad derriere that had the look of stability. It didn’t take Glen long to see that the doctor and nurse had something more between them than a thermometer and a stethoscope. She had some fixation upon the doctor and Glen couldn’t figure what it was that made her so attracted to him. He thought of the lucky doctor, standing on the bridge of a vessel, tossed about by errant winds and waves breaking across the bow, but enjoying the stability that the beamy bottom of the boat provided.

  Glen promptly dismissed the whole thing and began concentrating on his reason for being there. He was, after all, a sick man and had to know what was wrong with him and Conchita’s boss could most likely tell him what it was.

  First, the doctor took an extensive history, and asked some very personal questions. He wanted to know what the reason was for Glen’s being there. Glen related all the symptoms, the weakness, fever, chills and unsteadiness of gait, and that it had become more frequent lately. He also told of the specter that had appeared from nowhere and left just as suddenly. The doctor asked if he had seen any other such apparitions before or since January 16, 1934.

  Glen responded “No.”

  The doctor excused himself and left the room for a short time. He returned with the tools and instruments he would need to perform the examination. He proceeded by asking Glen to remove his clothing. The doctor asked him if he were cold and was pleased when Glen said he was comfortable. The doctor proceeded forthwith to perform a very exhaustive physical on Glen. At the end of it the doctor sat at the small desk within the room and took out the necessary forms to obtain the laboratory work and x-rays that would shed light on his problem. He gave Glen the necessary instructions regarding the various locations that he had to go in order to get the tests completed. His last instruction was to give him an appointment three days hence to see him there in the office again to get his answer.

  Glen asked him as he departed if the doctor had any idea what it was. The doctor said yes, but that he didn’t want to say until he had all his results. Glen said he could understand the doctor’s reticence before he had everything before him. With that they shook hands and Glen was free to go back to the hotel.

  The following morning he did not eat or drink anything per instructions on the papers that he was given by the doctor. He went to the lab first. He received further instructions from the technician, who gave him a little bottle for a specimen of urine. He went to a bathroom nearby and then returned with the sample. He went to the diener’s station and had a large volume of blood drawn. He thanked the tech for not hurting him then went to the x-ray department for the ordered films that he needed.

  He returned to the Chartreuse. He had nothing to do but wait until all of these tests were processed and he knew that would take two full days. He decided to call Sal and if he were available they could discuss the business in Dothan. He called his house, but no one answered the telephone. He had no one in all of New Orleans that he knew, except Claudine, and God only knew where to find her. He decided against another trip to Storeyville, so he took a little stroll around the French Quarter just to get out of the room, and who knows, she could be clicking her heels in the early evening among the shops and bars of the playground of the tourists to New Orleans. He left word at the desk to take any calls and went out along the streets that had become so familiar to him in the past couple years. He walked for about an hour and hadn’t found Claudine.

  He was tired and hungry, especially since he hadn’t eaten anything all day since his tests early that morning, and got himself a small snack to hold him over until dinner. He decided to spend that $100 that he had intended to give to Claudine on a sumptuous meal at Arnaud’s in the heart of the Quarter. First he went back to the hotel to clean up. He called from the hotel and made a reservation for one at the restaurant at 8:00 p.m., and arrived promptly at that hour. First, he ordered a martini and had a crab cocktail appetizer. Next, he ordered a dozen raw oysters on the half shell with a piquant red sauce counter balanced with a rich sauce tartare, washing them down with a sauterne. After he completed his first dozen, he ordered another. He thought to himself, “thank God this malady has not affected my appetite.”

  He took up the extensive menu; much of it was in French, but with English subtitles. He was able to read it fairly well. He decided that he would like the fish. They had a nice pompano cooked by the method of ‘en Papillae,’ that is in a parchment paper bag to hold all the juices and the flavor while it is baked. He ordered sides of asparagus, twice-fried potatoes, and baby glazed carrots. He finished the meal with a portion of tartan, i.e., an apple tart that is baked upside down, topped with French vanilla ice cream, and with a cup of freshly brewed chicory laced coffee. He was very satisfied when he completed this exceptional repast.

  Afterward he walked out into the warm evening of the vieux carre, taking in the sights and sounds of this most interesting city in the southern United States, if not of the entire country. He gravitated toward Jackson Square. The artists had not yet taken up their works nor put away their umbrellas. The place was a kaleidoscope of people in a variety of the reds, yellows, and blues of their dress, the green of the lawn, the grease paint, watercolors and charcoal. He mingled with them, walking among the variety of art and their creators and the handiwork of craftsmen. He was looking again for the little streetwalker, but she was nowhere to be found. He had just about given up and was ready to go back to the hotel when he felt a tug on his arm. He turned, expecting to see Claudine standing there, but another young lady was standing there in her stead.

  She said, “Are you looking for some companionship from someone in particular, or will I do?” She also spoke in the fluid mother tongue of the French and she was beautiful.

  Glen said, “I did have someone in mind, but she is not here. You remind me of her.”

  She replied, “Does she also speak French? Perhaps I know her.”

  A flicker of hope raced through Glen’s brain and he said. “Yes, she is also French, and her name is Claudine.”

  She thought for a moment, she remembered a Claudine who lived and worked on these streets. Then she spoke, “Yes I do know a girl who worked down here named Claudine, but she is no longer here. Had you availed yourself of her services, Monsieur?”

  He thought, “This young lady is rather forward and presumptuous, but after all she is in the same profession.” He answered aloud, “Yes, why do you ask?”

  She responded, “Then I cannot be with you. She was recently found to have a social disease that has affected her mind. She is now in the Louisiana State Mental hospital with a condition called tertiary syphilis. Her mind is completely gone, poor thing.” She continued, “So you see, when you have gone to the doctor and he tells you that you are alright, come back to see me again. Until that is the case, you had best not do anything with anyone else.” Thereupon she turned and walked away.

  Now it was even more important that he get the doctor’s report to be certain that this was the cause of his most unusual occurrences over the past month. He was now sure that his process was the same and that he had gotten it from Claudine. He went straight away to the hotel and the bed until his appointed time to see Dr. Brennan. This was Wednesday. On Friday he dressed and was at the doctor’s office a half hour before the appointment was scheduled. He took up a magazine and stared blankly at the page. His mind was racing when Conchita emerged and accompanied him to the treatment room.

  A few moments later Dr. Brennan appeared with Rose. He asked Glen how he had fared in the city with so much time on his hands. Glen said that he was glad his wait was over, but he had enjoyed the food and other amenities that helped to make it more bearable. Then he asked the doctor if he had received the reports. Dr. Brennan said, “I just got them in this morning. In fact, I haven’t had an opportunity to review the results yet myself.” He opened the chart and began studying the vital data that was on the pages. He develop
ed a look of concern on his face as he continued to read the laboratory reports. After several minutes, he closed the chart and sat there in silence for an interminable time, deep in thought.

  Finally, Glen said, “I perceive that the report is not a good one. We must play the hand we have been dealt, however, and so now I must look at the cards. Just what do they say?”

  Dr. Brennan answered, “You are very perceptive, Glen. It is not good, indeed. What you have is a venereal disease.”

  Before he could proceed, Glen interrupted, “Is it syphilis, tertiary syphilis?”

  “Yes it is. How did you know?” Dr. Brennan asked.

  Glen answered, “I had a friend who told me what it was and where I got it. Now I have to depend on you to help me get rid of it.”

  “Glen, this is not going to be easy for you.” Dr. Brennan said. “You will need to be in the hospital at first. The best such facility is the Louisiana or Mississippi State Hospital. You have such a facility in Meridian, not far from your home. I would recommend that I send you there where your family will be nearby and since you are a resident of that state.”

  “How much time do I have before I start the treatments?” Glen asked.

  Dr. Brennan answered, “The sooner the better.” He continued, “This is a very bad infectious disease that is working on your brain right now, destroying its cells which receive and transmit all the information that your body needs in order to function. If you don’t stop it soon, you won’t have any brain left.”

  “Alright, what do I do now? Can you give me a referral to the hospital in Meridian?” Glen asked.

  The doctor replied, “I can do better than that, I know a doctor at the hospital. We were in medical school together at Duke University in North Carolina. His name is Dr. Peter Moriarity, and he is very knowledgeable about this particular disease and its latest treatments. I’ll give him a call right away and tell him that you will be contacting him for admission and for treatment.” He wrote down the doctor in Mississippi’s name on a prescription pad, tore it from the other sheets, and handed it to Glen, then amended, “Oh, and by the way, you know you can’t have any sexual contacts until you get this corrected, right?”