Malpractice in Maggody

by Joan Hess

  She sat down on an arm of the sofa. “Oh, no, let’s talk right here.” She leaned over and flicked Toby’s ear with a manicured fingernail. “You want to know what happened between Molly and Toby the night she was killed?”

  Toby started to rise. “You stupid bitch, I ought to—”

  ”Wait just a minute!” I said loudly. I stood up and pointed at Toby. “Sit down and shut up, or I’ll call for Brenda to bring a hypodermic and shoot you full of Demerol.” I looked at Dawn. “And you either cut it out and sit over here, or I’ll grab a handful of your bleached blond hair and drag you out to the hall. What’s it going to be?”

  She moved over to the chair where I’d been sitting, and in a sullen voice, said, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are. If Dr. Stonebridge knew you’d spoken to me like that, he’d kick your ass out of here in no time flat.”

  “Why don’t you trot down to his office and lodge a complaint?”

  “Yeah,” said Toby. “The cop doesn’t want to listen to your lies.”

  Dawn glared at him. “She can decide for herself.”

  “An excellent idea,” I said, finally daring to relax a little bit. “So tell me.”

  “Well,” she began, still glaring at Toby, “I was in my suite at about nine, staring at the wall and counting the number of days I was stuck in this crappy place. I heard Molly giggling in the hall. I was kind of curious, since she usually leaves before dinner is served. Then I heard this conceited prick talking to her. They went into his suite and closed the door. I figured I could get them in big trouble, but I decided I didn’t want to get Molly fired. She was pretty good about allowing me to make phone calls when Brenda wasn’t around, as long as I paid her. I didn’t do anything for about an hour. That’s when I heard Molly come out in the hall, whimpering and hiccuping.”

  “I hope you’re not buying this shit,” said Toby.

  “At this point, I’m listening,” I said.

  Dawn was clearly having a fine time watching him squirm. “So I opened my door to see what was going on. Molly was leaning against the wall, her face all wet with tears and her hair tangled and ratty. I dragged her into my suite and asked what happened. She told me Toby tried to rape her.”

  “That is such a fuckin’ lie!” he snarled.

  “Why would she lie about something like that? She knew she’d get fired if she told any of the doctors. She was messed up so bad she could barely whisper. I tried to get her to stay until she calmed down, but she was afraid Toby would find her. I mean, she was really freaked out. I even offered her a Valium. She wouldn’t take it because she had to drive home.”

  Toby leaned forward, his elbows on his bare knees, and gave me what was supposed to be a very earnest look. “Molly was freaked out, yeah, but it wasn’t my fault. She told me earlier in the day that she was staying late for some kind of meeting, and would drop by for a visit when it was over. It was all her idea, not mine. She showed up, and we went into my room. I put on some music and we stayed on the sofa for a while. She was the one who suggested we go in the bedroom. I wasn’t about to turn her down. We got to rolling around on the bed, and she got her hands all over me—and I mean all over me. I start to unbutton her blouse, and all of a sudden she panicked and told me to stop. I thought she was kidding. Maybe I tried a little harder to persuade her that she didn’t really want me to stop, but she slapped the holy shit out of me, jumped up, and left. I sure as hell didn’t force the little bitch into doing anything she didn’t want to do. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had been scheming all along so she could sue me for big bucks. For all I know, her husband put her up to it.”

  “Poor baby,” cooed Dawn. “It’s not your fault you’re so rich and pretty that women are after your money. You must feel awfully insecure.”

  “Not nearly as insecure as you. At least I’m not a failure.”

  “Okay,” I snapped, “enough of this. Dawn, what did Molly do after she left your suite?”

  “She didn’t want to risk running into Brenda, so she went out the door at the far end of the hall. After that, I guess she decided to sit in the garden until she was calm enough to drive herself home.”

  “What about you?”

  “Nothing,” she said, blinking in surprise. “It wasn’t like we were close friends or anything like that. I forgot about it and went to bed. Shouldn’t you be asking Toby what he did?”

  “What the hell do you think I did?” he said angrily. “Follow her and kill her? Give me a fuckin’ break! So maybe I was annoyed with her on account of the way she pretended she was so hot for me and then left. I didn’t try to stop her, fercrissake! When I get out of this place, I’ll have more women than I can handle waiting outside the locker room. And a helluva lot classier ones than that little cock-teaser!”

  “So what did you do?” I asked.

  “I popped a pill and went to bed.”

  Dawn shook her head. “Oh, no, you didn’t. I heard your door open about five minutes later. You went down the hall and out the same door that Molly left through.” She looked at me. “You can ask Dibbins. He heard it all, too.”

  “I went outside,” said Toby. “Big goddamn deal. I needed some fresh air, that’s all. But I wasn’t following Molly. I thought she’d gone straight to her car and left. I just walked around until I calmed down, then came back and went to bed.”

  I wasn’t quite ready to buy his story. “Did your walk take you into the garden?”

  “Hell, no,” he muttered. “The last thing I wanted to do was run into her and have her start screeching.”

  “You said you assumed she left immediately,” I pointed out. “How could she have been in the garden?”

  “I don’t know. You’re getting me confused. Maybe I wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be in the garden. I sat by the pool for an hour or so, then came back here. That’s when I popped the pill.”

  “Did you see anyone?” I asked.

  “You mean, did anyone see me? How the fuck should I know? I was too busy kicking myself for letting her in my room in the first place. I should have known she was setting me up so I’d have to pay her to keep her big mouth shut. Another accusation of rape, and I might as well skip the trial and check into a cell.”

  “It sounds like a motive to me,” Dawn said smugly.

  Toby’s face turned red. He started to stand up, then caught my stare and sank back down. “Okay, while I was by the pool, Walter came by and asked me if I wanted to smoke a little weed. We went out to his van and stayed there until about midnight, smoking and drinking wine. I don’t want to get him in trouble, so don’t ask him in front of Stonebridge or Brenda. They’d both shit in their pants if they knew.”

  That much I believed. “Was Molly’s car still there?”

  “I don’t know. It was dark. There were some cars and vans, but I don’t know what she drove. One of them could have been hers. Look, I can’t afford to get booted out of here. The judge ordered a ninety-day psych evaluation, and I’ll be in contempt if I don’t cooperate. I’m already missing training camp on account of this stupid lawsuit, and we’ve got exhibition games coming up at the end of the summer. I owe it to the team and my fans to get through this and back on the field.”

  Dawn wiggled a finger at him. “Don’t forget your corporate sponsors.”

  “Them, too,” he muttered.

  I would have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t been such a jerk. “All right,” I said, “I’ll have a private word with Walter and see if he confirms your story. In the meantime, I suggest the two of you keep a civilized distance. That means stay away from each other. I’ll be back later this afternoon.”

  “You’re not going to arrest The Man?” Dawn said, feigning disappointment.

  “No, I’m not. Did either of you see Senator Swayze earlier today?”

  They both said no. I ordered Dawn to go back to her suite and then went down the hall to the door that led outside, thinking about what I’d just heard. Toby was more of a dumb jock than I’d assumed
if he believed Walter would lie for him. But if Toby’s story was true, Walter might not be eager to admit it and risk losing his job. All I could do was ask Walter and hope I could tell if he was lying. He was glib, though, and probably had no qualms about saying whatever was in his best interest.

  As I walked toward the back of the building, I glanced into the apartments that housed the doctors and Walter. I could see pearl gray walls and framed artwork, but no signs of the inhabitants. I wondered if there was any way to talk Roy into springing for a can of paint so I could add a little class to my own apartment, which was currently a sort of muddy beige. The only thing hanging on the wall was a calendar from the early 1990s that I’d left to cover a hole in the wallboard.

  Deputy Quivers was seated by the pool. When he saw me, he leapt to his feet and sucked in his gut. “I searched the garden, ma’am,” he said. “I crawled under the bushes and examined the flower beds for footprints. I didn’t find nothing.”

  Before I could congratulate him on his dedication, Brenda came out of her office and beckoned to me. “Could we have a word in private?”

  She was already seated behind her desk when I got there. “Have you made any progress?” she demanded. “This needs to be cleared up immediately so that we can get our patients back on their schedules. They must have boundaries and structure. Right now we’re shorthanded, as you know. Vincent is on the phone, trying to find another psychiatrist who can take over Randall’s duties temporarily. The temp agencies are closed for the weekend, which means I had to assign one of the orderlies to the reception desk. I’ve coached him to say ‘Stonebridge Foundation’ and ‘Please hold’ if someone calls, but even that may be too much of a challenge for him.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask about Senator Swayze?”

  “Please tell me that she’s back in her suite. I don’t know how much more I can take. Vincent is so distraught he’s already drinking, and it’s not even noon.”

  “She’s nowhere in the building or on the grounds,” I said. “I found her journal and read a few entries. Are you aware she wasn’t taking her medications?”

  Brenda made a peculiar noise, something between a bleat and a gurgle of despair. “I’ve noticed she hasn’t been as cooperative lately, but I assumed she was going through a transitional stage. How bad is she?”

  “I’m not a shrink, but I’d say that she’s delusional and paranoid as hell.” I related the gist of Swayze’s conspiracy theory. “I can’t have her loose in Maggody. If she gets her hands on a weapon, we may end up with a bloodbath. The only thing I can think of to do is get a police officer with a dog out here as soon as possible.”

  “No! We cannot risk the media exposure. You have to go find her and bring her back with a minimum of fuss. I can promise you she’ll take her medications, if I have to sit on her chest and pry open her jaws with my bare hands.”

  I could easily envision it, which was disturbing in itself. “I’ll drive around town and ask people if they’ve seen her, but if I don’t get lucky, I’m going to have to alert the sheriff. She could be anywhere in the county by now.”

  “Oh, god, what if she calls Lloyd?”

  “Lloyd’s of London?”

  Brenda ran her fingers through her hair, leaving tufted rows that looked like withered stalks of wheat. “Her son, you idiot! Why are you sitting there? Go find her, and call me immediately. I need to talk to Vincent. Maybe we should call Lloyd first and warn him.” She hurried out the door, mumbling to herself.

  I sat for a minute in case she came storming back in, then left the office and went over to Deputy Quivers. “I’ve got to go into town for an hour or so. If you get hungry, ask one of the employees to bring you something to eat. The only people allowed to come and go are delivery men; they’ll use the back door of the kitchen. Just keep everybody else here until I get back, okay?”

  “You might should have told me that earlier,” he said, his eyes darting like minnows. “That guy with the ponytail left about half an hour ago. That van of his really needs a transmission job. I was thinking I’d tell him about my brother-in-law’s garage over in Hasty. He does good work and—”

  ”Did he say anything to you when he left?” I said.

  “He told me I looked like Barney Fife. Is that one of the deputies? I’m kinda new and haven’t met all the other fellows yet.”

  “Yes, Quivers, and I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. Don’t let anyone else leave, and I mean it. Do you understand?” Without waiting for a reply, I went out to my car and drove around to the gate. It was locked. I honked the horn until it slowly swung open. As I drove past the persimmon tree, I noticed it was unoccupied by Mrs. Jim Bob’s spies. Sighing, I headed for Ruby Bee’s Bar & Grill to find out if the grapevine was humming.

  Waiting for Old Faithful to erupt made Eileen think of Earl. He was regular as clockwork, too. Every single day he’d come in from the field or barn, grab the sports section of the newspaper, and lock himself in the bathroom for half an hour. He’d hardly ever missed a day except for the one time he had the flu and practically lived in the bathroom. She must have gone through a dozen cans of aerosol deodorizer, she thought fondly as she wiggled on the rock where she was sitting. Earl was her Old Faithful, dependable and predictable. She’d learned long ago not to expect any compliments when she’d made a special meal with all his favorites, or when she bought a new dress. Did he think it was gonna kill him to say something nice ever once in a while? Or, heaven forbid, offer to help with the dishes?

  Not once since they got married had he put his dirty underwear in the hamper or scraped the mud off his boots before he walked across the clean kitchen floor. Last Christmas he’d given her a vacuum cleaner attachment. On her birthday, he’d given her the same cologne he gave her every year. She had enough unopened bottles on the back shelf in the hall closet to open a shop, presuming anybody else’d be fool enough to buy the cheap stuff.

  She felt a faint rumble and scrambled to her feet. Old Faithful was right on time.

  Jim Bob spotted Jeremiah McIlhaney looking at cans of chaw by one of the checkout counters. He went over and slapped Jeremiah on the back. “How ya doin’ these days?” he said genially.

  “Same as always,” Jeremiah said. “We could use some rain. The forecast don’t look good, though. ’Course, it being June, we’ll get some before too long.”

  Jim Bob nodded as if this were one of his major concerns. “You interested in playing a little poker?”

  “Might be.”

  “Yeah, sometimes it’s good to get out of the house, ain’t it? If Mrs. Jim Bob had her way, I’d be wearing a frilly apron and washing up the dishes every night. Us men got to make it clear that we can do what we damn well please after a hard day’s work.”

  Jeremiah gazed at him. “I hear tell you’re spending a lot of your evenings out at the Pot O’ Gold trailer park with some redheaded stripper.”

  “Hold it down, buddy. Those checkout girls have ears like elephants. Yeah, there’s a divorcée living out there, name of Divine. Sometimes I go by and screw in her lightbulbs, if you know what I mean. So how about a poker game tonight? You reckon your wife will let you if you ask nicely?”

  “I’ll play if I’ve a mind to.”

  Jim Bob slapped him on the back again. “Us men got to stick together, don’t we? No women are gonna tell us what we can and can’t do.”

  He strutted away, feeling pleased with himself. Mrs. Jim Bob would be in for a surprise if she was still plotting to run for mayor.

  When Estelle got home from the supermarket, she could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t like a burglar had been ransacking her house. As far as she could tell, nothing had been moved. The pink mohair sweater she’d left on the divan was right there. The magazines were in a tidy stack by the hair dryer, and the shampoo, conditioner, scissors, perm solutions, and manicure tools were in a tidy row on the shelf. Her living room smelled kinda funny, though it was hard to put her finger on it. Just kinda funny.

 
She went into the kitchen, still uneasy, and began to unload the bag of groceries. It was only when she opened the refrigerator that she knew for certain that someone had been there. Living alone, she kept an eye on her supplies and shopped only when she was down to a few slices of bread, a single egg, a little bit of bacon, and maybe a pork chop that she might cook for supper. Long about Saturday, she replenished what she needed for the week.

  But the heel of the bread was missing, along with the last slice of cheese. The mustard was on a low shelf, instead of next to the mayonnaise. The dill pickle jar was empty. What’s more, there was a butter knife in the sink.

  Estelle went back to the living room and sat down to think about it. It could be the foreigners had been in her house. No matter what Ruby Bee said, she knew better than to trust them. Her house wasn’t but half a mile from the Stonebridge Foundation, if you cut across the pasture in back of the Assembly Hall and crawled under a barbwire fence.

  She finally forced herself to put away the groceries before the ice cream melted and the celery started wilting. It was hard, though, to keep herself from peering over her shoulder every time a bird peeped or a truck drove past. She figured that Arly had too much on her plate to deal with stolen food, so there was no point in calling her. And if she so much as said a word to Ruby Bee about the foreigners, accusations would start flying like a swarm of hornets and they’d end up not speaking for another week. At least she had a gun in her bedside table—not much of a gun, but better than nothing.

  What’s more, she wasn’t absolutely sure she hadn’t eaten that pickle herself.

  14

  I suppose I should have stopped at the PD to check messages, but I was more interested in finding out if Senator Swayze had been spotted roaming the back roads. Well, that and having a nutritionally incorrect lunch. Although I’d had breakfast only a few hours earlier, I felt as though I’d left Springfield days, if not weeks, ago. Jack was probably still in his robe, washing wineglasses and deciding what to do with the rest of the weekend. All I could do was hope that he was staring out a window, missing me as much as I missed him. I wasn’t sure if it was the physical intimacy, the lazy cuddling, the conversation, or the increasingly comfortable companionship. Whatever it was, I was beginning to realize that for the last few years, I’d been content to do nothing more than watch spiders on the ceiling at the PD and sit alone in my apartment at night. Now I was feeling the urge to yank myself out of this self-imposed complacency, for better or worse.