“Yes,” Albert confessed, “but not before allowing that evil being to…die,” he finished in a guilt-stricken voice. “I allowed infection to swallow the last bit of strength his body possessed and claimed innocence. Without proof, those who wanted that evil being alive were forced to believe me and let me be.” Albert shook his head in shame. “My job was to save lives, yet I let an evil being die not because he deserved to die but because I wanted his…loot. And his loot, my loves, I took.”
“Golly,” Betty gasped. “Mary, are you hearing this?”
Mary nodded. “Go on, Uncle Albert.”
“I didn’t let an evil being who was creating deadly experimental gas die to relieve the world of him,” Albert continued, “I let an evil being die because I was very bitter and very broken.” Albert finally raised his eyes. “My sweet Erin was dead. My hands were stained with the blood of countless young men screaming in pain. Three years I reached inside of broken bodies struggling to repair them, only to lose most to death. Three years of agony…of heavy drinking…of anger. And then,” Albert said in a very bitter voice, “on a cold and rainy night, four traitors brought me a wounded German officer who was half out of his mind with pain and infection.” Albert squeezed his hands into two fists. “I spat on them and received a pistol beating in return. Finally, when I was threatened with death, I ordered the traitors out of the surgery and began…trying to save a miserable life.”
Mary glanced at the door. “And then what happened, Uncle Albert?”
“The evil being I was trying to save confessed a great deal to me,” Uncle Albert whispered. He slowly closed his eyes. “It was then, at that very moment, on that very night, that Albert Malone truly lost his sanity to the dark corners of the room he was standing in. It was on that night that I let a man die in order to steal his loot.” Albert kept his eyes closed. “I stole millions in gold…”
“Millions?” Betty gasped. “Oh my!”
Mary felt her mouth drop open. “Uncle Albert—”
“When I returned home from the war, I visited my sweet Erin’s grave…remembered my promise…” Albert raised his eyes and looked at Mary. “It was on that very day, at my wife’s grave, that I swore to fulfill my promise…even though I knew I was…insane.” Albert lowered his eyes and began playing a sad song on the piano. “I laugh because if I don’t, I’ll return to that cold, rainy night, standing over a dying man, memorizing his every word. I’ll remember deserting my position as a surgeon, claiming insanity, only to go steal millions in gold…leaving thousands to die.”
Mary began to speak but stopped. What could she say? Albert Malone, through all his jokes, pranks, and humor, was a tortured soul who was truly…well, insane. Mary quickly took Betty’s hand and walked her over to the door. “Honey, I think we should leave,” she whispered. “I think Uncle Albert is—”
“Nuts,” Betty whispered back.
Mary nodded her head. “I’m not convinced Uncle Albert is telling the truth, but even if he is, what can we do?” she asked. “I think we should leave him—”
Before Mary could finish speaking the door to the Music Room burst open. Greta appeared with a furious expression on her face. “Dr. Cappes is dead!” she screamed at Albert. “And this was found next to his body!” Greta held up a playing card…a three of hearts. “You killed him, you crazy old man! And now you’re going to suffer!”
Albert looked at Mary and Betty, sighed, and said in a sad voice: “I told you so.”
Mary stood in shock. Betty simply fainted. What a morning it was turning out to be.
3
Mary followed Greta into a large, roomy office located down a south hallway tucked into the far back of the hospital. The office smelled of peppermint and was very well organized. A large, glossy wooden desk sat under an oval window with a dark green curtain covering it; a crystal candy dish holding peppermint candy sat on the corner of the desk staring at two soft green sitting chairs standing on an old but very expensive hardwood floor. Soft green walls lined the office and held, to Mary’s surprise, paintings of the Old West instead of the classic artwork one might expect to find hanging in a doctor’s office. A tall cactus stood in the far corner next to a wooden bookshelf holding medical books and books full of old western stories. A wooden filing cabinet rested across the room next to the desk filled with private patient files.
But what caught Mary’s attention the most was the dead body sitting in a wooden chair slumped over the desk. The body had a knife stuck in its back. “Why do killers like to stab people in the back?” she whispered in a miserable voice.
“The sheriff has been called,” Greta announced in a furious voice. “No one leaves the hospital until he arrives.”
Betty scooted close to Mary. “Golly, Betty,” she whispered, “Uncle Albert was telling the truth.”
Mary nodded. “Seems that way,” Mary whispered back, carefully watching Greta approach the desk. “What are you doing?” Mary asked.
Greta ignored Mary, snatched a piece of peppermint candy from the candy dish, shoved it into her mouth, and turned around. “Albert is locked in his room. All the patients are locked in their rooms,” she said in a hard voice. “You two are to go to the front lobby and stay there.”
“Then why did you bring us to this office?” Mary asked, daring to look at the dead body.
“Because,” Greta told Mary, “I needed a witness. You two see the body?”
“Of course we do,” Mary said, feeling anger touch her cheeks, “we’re not blind.”
Greta snapped her arms together. “Dr. Cappes was stabbed in the back.”
“That’s obvious,” Mary told Greta. “But that doesn’t mean Uncle Albert killed him.”
“I found Albert’s playing card. The three of hearts was missing from the deck of cards he has up in his room,” Greta told Mary, struggling to wrap a rope around Albert’s neck before he could stand a fair trial.
“Anyone could have placed that card in this office,” Mary told Greta and then realized a horrible truth. Greta was testing Mary. Greta didn’t bring her into the office to be a witness. No, Greta wanted—needed—to discover who Mary truly was and what Albert Malone honestly meant to her.
“You’d defend a killer?” Greta asked.
“I’d defend a man until he’s proven guilty,” Mary corrected.
Greta pointed to the phone sitting on Dr. Cappes’s desk. “I will call the sheriff and demand he question you more at his office. I want you two to leave the hospital and its grounds immediately. I will not have anyone upsetting the patients by defending a killer.”
Mary shook her head no. “A murder has taken place and we’re not going anywhere until the sheriff arrives,” Mary informed Greta.
“I can have you removed by force.”
“Go ahead,” Mary told Greta. “My husband owns a newspaper. I’m running the newspaper for him while he’s away fighting in the war. If I am illegally removed from a murder scene by force before the sheriff arrives, I will smear this murder story all over Tennessee and then call every contact I have and make sure they smear the story across their own states.”
“Newspaper?” Greta asked.
Mary nodded her head and told Greta the name of the newspaper her husband owned. “Check it out for yourself,” she dared Greta, standing her ground. It was time to stop being bullied and get tough.
Greta stood in silence, chewing on her peppermint. She glanced back at Dr. Cappes and then said in an uncertain voice: “Albert Malone is a killer, but maybe it would be better if you two…did wait for the sheriff.”
“We think so,” Mary told Greta and locked her eyes on Dr. Cappes. “When did you discover the body?” she asked.
Greta narrowed her eyes. “I talk to the sheriff only,” she snapped at Mary and then added: “Do not ask the staff members any questions, either. I have sent most of the staff home except for the guard and Nurse Ellie.”
“Why?” Mary demanded.
“Too many people can make matters confusing,�
� Greta told Mary. “I’m the head nurse. I only answer to Dr. Cappes. Dr. Cappes is dead, and that puts me in complete control of this hospital. I have informed the sheriff of my new position and he understands.”
“But…a murder has taken place,” Mary said, struggling to remain calm. “You had no right to let anyone leave the hospital.” Mary put her hands onto her hips. “Does the sheriff know you sent some of the staff members home?”
“I am in charge,” Greta snapped. “I will explain to the sheriff the need to send my staff members home when he arrives. Now, leave this office and go to the front lobby at once.”
“I need to make a phone call,” Mary told Greta.
“Absolutely not,” Greta growled. “If you want to make a phone call you must leave the hospital grounds.”
“And leave poor Uncle Albert alone to be framed for a murder he didn’t commit? Absolutely not! I want to see Uncle Albert. You have no right to lock him in his room.”
“All patients will remain in their rooms until the sheriff arrives,” Greta told Mary in a voice filled with murderous rage. “Now, leave this office at once and go to the front lobby.”
Mary grabbed Betty’s hand, gave Greta a furious look, and walked out of the office. “That woman is colder and meaner than a rattlesnake,” she said.
“Tell me about it,” Betty replied, looking over her shoulder. She watched Greta step out into the hallway, slam the office door shut, lock it, and then enter the head nurse’s office across the way.
“She went into that office,” Betty told Mary and pointed to a door marked “Head Nurse.”
Mary stopped walking. She studied the closed door and then shook her head. “That woman sent everyone home except the people involved in the murder.” Mary looked around. “We haven’t met Nurse Ellie yet. Maybe it’s time we do.”
“What in the world for?” Betty begged.
“To let our noses sniff her out,” Mary explained. “Uncle Albert didn’t kill Dr. Cappes, Betty. But whoever did is going to use that poor man’s murder to force Uncle Albert to confess where the gold he stole is located.”
“You mean blackmail?” Betty gasped.
“Yes,” Mary said. “Only Uncle Albert knows that once he confesses the location of the gold the killer…or killers, which it seems to be in this case, are going to lock him away in a mental hospital for life.”
“Oh Mary, this is so awful,” Betty said, looking very upset. “I mean, I know what Uncle Albert did was wrong, but he’s a harmless old man who’s a bit…wacky. The poor guy. Just lost his marbles, that’s all.” Betty looked at the office door Greta was hiding behind. “Uncle Albert lost his wife, and then he had to go serve as a surgeon in a terrible war. Who can truly understand what really happened to his mind?”
“I know, honey,” Mary agreed. She bit down on her lower lip and hurried Betty back to the front lobby, where, to her surprise, she ran into a woman who had to be at least seventy years old. The woman was sitting behind the nurses’ desk stationed at the front door, staring off into empty air as if she were remembering a painful memory. “Uh…Nurse Ellie?” Mary asked, approaching the desk.
The woman glanced up at Mary and Betty. She quickly straightened the nurse’s uniform she was wearing, situated a white hat on top of her long gray hair, and stiffened her back. “Yes?” she asked in a voice that held fatigue and worry instead of vicious anger.
“Nurse Greta told us to come to the front lobby and wait for the sheriff to arrive,” Mary explained.
Ellie pointed to a wooden bench sitting across from her desk. “Please sit down,” she said. “The sheriff should be here soon.”
Mary took Betty’s hand, walked to the wooden bench, and sat down. “Do you see what I’m seeing?” she whispered to Betty.
Betty glanced down at the glossy hardwood floor and spotted her reflection. “My reflection?” she asked.
“No,” Mary whispered, “Nurse Ellie…look at her face, honey.”
Betty threw her eyes at Ellie. Ellie was staring at the front door, lost in thought again. “I see an old woman.”
“An old woman who favors Nurse Greta,” Mary whispered. “Betty, I think that woman is Nurse Greta’s mother.” Mary placed her hands down onto her lap. “Nurse Greta is about…forty-five to fifty years old. The age difference makes sense.”
Betty kept her eyes on Ellie. The more she studied the woman’s face, the more she saw certain features of Greta begin to appear. “Golly, you’re right,” she whispered. “I see Nurse Greta’s nose…chin…forehead…but not her eyes.”
Mary bit down on her lip. “I wonder if that creepy old man at the guard shack is Nurse Ellie’s husband,” Mary whispered. Mary stared at Ellie and then walked her mind back to the Music Room. “German officer…evil being…gold,” she whispered to herself.
“What?” Betty asked.
“German officer…evil being…gold…” Mary whispered and then added, “Uncle Albert was forced to try and save the life of an evil man by four traitors…”
“Mary, what are you whispering?” Betty pleaded.
Mary chewed on her lip. “German officer…stolen gold…dead doctor…”
“Are you having a breakdown?” Betty asked in a worried voice.
“No, honey, I’m only trying to put some clues together,” Mary whispered.
“Oh,” Betty said and let out a sigh of relief. “For a second I was worried you were having a breakdown. Mother said a person can have a breakdown at any time, without any warning.”
Mary glanced up at Ellie, who was still lost in thought. “Sit tight,” Mary whispered. She stood up and walked over to the nurses’ desk. “Hi,” she said to Ellie in a pleasant voice.
Ellie looked up at Mary. “Yes?”
“I was just wondering,” Mary said, “your voice…do I detect an accent?” Even though Ellie’s voice sounded very American, Mary did detect a hidden German accent.
Ellie stared up at Mary with confused eyes. “My family came from the old country,” she told Mary in a strange voice. “I was born in Germany but became an American citizen many years ago.”
“Germany…amazing,” Mary said, pretending to be fascinated. “I have never been to Germany before.”
Ellie sighed. “The old country is very beautiful. It has been many years since I have seen my home. I wish to return there very soon before I am too old to remember.”
Mary saw a deep sadness scar Ellie’s tender face. Ellie’s face held warmth and compassion instead of the cold cruelness that covered Greta’s stone face. Mary saw a woman with a broken heart and a worried soul—a woman of innocence and not guilt. “I hope you get to go home someday,” she told Ellie in a loving voice.
Ellie looked up at Mary with confused eyes. “Why would you care about that?” she asked. What Mary didn’t know was that Ellie was used to being treated with a cruel hand by both her daughter and her husband. Kindness and compassion were strangers to Ellie. Anger and revenge were two enemies constantly forced on her—two enemies Ellie secretly despised even though she had to pretend to love them in front of two people who had no heart or soul to them. “I am a sixty-eight-year-old woman, old and tired.”
“Sixty-eight?” Mary asked. “Why, you’re Albert Malone’s age.”
Ellie clasped her wrinkled hands together. “Albert Malone,” she said in an upset voice, “why does that man’s name have to torment me so?”
“What?” Mary asked.
“What?” Ellie asked back.
“You mentioned Albert Malone’s name,” Mary told Ellie in a calm voice, trying not to be pushy.
“Did I?” Ellie asked. “I suppose I did.” Ellie looked toward the front door. “The sheriff should be here soon,” she told Mary in an uneasy voice.
“Forgive me for saying this,” Mary told Ellie, “but you seem…nervous.”
“A man is dead,” Ellie replied, “how should a woman feel?”
“I understand,” Mary said and returned to the wooden bench. “Nurse Ell
ie was born in Germany,” she whispered as she sat down.
“Germany…golly,” Betty whispered back.
Mary walked her mind back to the Music Room. “German officer…Ellie was born in Germany…World War One…gold…” Mary saw Albert smiling one minute and then wiping tears from his eyes another minute. “Fake smiles to cover deep pain…guilt created through bitter actions…”
“Mary?” Betty asked.
Mary kept her eyes on Uncle Albert. “Dr. Cappes…I wonder if he was becoming aware of the truth,” she said.
“Aware of what?” Betty asked.
Mary walked her mind back to the front lobby. “Honey, I think…the German officer Uncle Albert let die…I think that man is somehow related to Nurse Ellie. I think maybe that awful man is Greta’s father.”
“Golly,” Betty whispered with wide eyes, “do you honestly think that’s true?”
“I’m not sure,” Mary whispered back and nodded toward Ellie. Ellie was looking at the front door, staring into the past. “Only Nurse Ellie can tell me that, and somehow, honey, we have to get the truth out of her.”
Betty began to respond but heard the sound of shoes approaching. She raised her eyes and saw Greta walking toward the lobby with her usual cruel expression on her face. “Here she comes,” she whispered in a nervous voice.
Mary spotted Greta, prepared herself for a fight, and waited. When Greta walked into the lobby, she went straight to the front door, opened it, and let a large man built like a grizzly bear enter the hospital. The man shook rain off a thin brown jacket, removed a brown hat, and ran a large hand over a thick gray beard. “Okay, so what’s going on here?” he asked.
Greta closed and locked the front door. “Dr. Cappes has been killed.”
Sheriff Spencer Whitfield rubbed his eyes and slapped his hat back on. He looked down at Mary and Betty and said, “Yeah, well, I guess I better go see the body.”
Greta pointed at Mary and Betty. “I want you to tell these two women to leave first. They are interfering with hospital operations and being very disruptive.”
Mary looked at Betty with worried eyes. “Prepare for a fight,” she whispered to Betty and looked at Ellie. Ellie was still staring off into the past.
Finding a Killer Page 4