Psychiatric Nurse

by Dan Ross

  Instead, she had discovered the highly rated hospital to be a fraud, and its chief medical officer a greedy mercenary who cared only for profits. So she had been forced to organize a small revolt within the hospital ranks and had found a collaborator in Dr. Ken Hastings. Whether she would ever be able to change the private hospital was extremely doubtful, but she was determined that Frank and Peggy should be rescued.

  That night it snowed again. And when Jean went over to the main buildings in the morning, it was still snowing lightly through the clouds.

  She was seated at one of the cafeteria tables with her breakfast tray when Ken came striding in. He went to the counter and got himself a cup of black coffee, and then he came directly to her.

  Seating himself across from her, he said, "Well, we have another crisis."

  She stared at him. "With our other ones still not resolved!"

  "You're far too right," he sighed, and took a mouthful of the hot liquid.

  "Don't keep me in suspense!"

  His expression was grave as he put his cup down. "Morton was badly beaten last night."

  "Oh, no!"

  "Yes. He's in the infirmary, in pretty bad shape. He isn't sure who tackled him, but he's named a suspect."

  "Who?"

  "Frank Burns."

  "Frank Burns?"

  "I'm afraid so," Ken said with a frown. "You'll recall that they had a run-in on the stage of the assembly hall because Morton tampered with Frank's guitar."

  "That was days ago!"

  "Still, Frank was very upset about it, and, according to Morton, he's been threatening him ever since."

  "Frank wouldn't do such a thing," Jean protested.

  "Morton believes he would," Ken said gravely. "The attack took place when Morton was making his rounds after midnight. He was walking through the darkened assembly room when someone came up from behind him and began beating him up."

  "Not Frank!"

  "Morton thinks it was. But he didn't get a good look at him."

  "This will please Dr. Werner," she said bitterly. "He's desperate to get something more on Frank. Maybe he can twist this one around."

  "He'll probably try," Ken agreed.

  "I'm positive it wasn't Frank," she went on. "So it had to be someone else. Who do you think it might be?"

  "We have nearly fifty patients," Ken told her. "And I don't think Morton has a single friend among them."

  "So any of the patients could have done it," she said, realizing with despair how large their suspect list was.

  He shrugged. "That's about it."

  "But there must be some among them who would have a more likely chance of being guilty," she insisted.

  "I dislike talking about it," he said.

  "It has to be faced."

  "We can narrow it down to the male patients," he said. "And the one I most wonder about is Steve Abrams. He came out of the violent cell again only yesterday. He could be responsible. And if he did it during one of his spells, he'd have no memory of it."

  She brightened. "It could well be Steve!"

  "Don't decide too quickly," was the young doctor's warning. "Frank also has a bad temper. And he is upset about Peggy and wants out of here himself."

  "Beating up Morton would only harm his chances of getting out."

  "Not if they aren't able to prove he did it."

  Her eyebrows raised. "You think there is some small possibility that Frank is the culprit?"

  "Even though you don't."

  She was bewildered. "I can't make up my mind what to think."

  "Be sure that Werner is going to raise a riot over this new violence," Ken assured her.

  Jean sighed. "It isn't going to be pleasant, I know."

  But at that time, she had no idea how unpleasant it was going to be. Dr. Werner was incensed over the incident, and went from one end of the hospital to the other, questioning in his harsh way and whiplashing nearly everyone. Jean came in for her share, too.

  Dr. Werner came to her office instead of inviting her to his. His eyes burned with anger as he dismissed Head Nurse Moore from the room and began his third-degreeing of Jean.

  "I realize you are one of those who don't see eye to eye with me on discipline, Miss Shannon," was his beginning remark. "But you must admit that it is a sorry business when one of the guards is beaten as severely as Morton was."

  "Surely I don't hold with that kind of violence," she said firmly.

  "That's very encouraging," the ugly head doctor said in his sarcastic way. "We have several ideas as to who did it. You're around the hospital a lot. I'd like to know if you have anything to offer that may help clear up the mystery."

  She sighed. "I wish I could help, but I honestly can't."

  He scowled. "You have no right to hold back information."

  "I'm not!"

  He took a deep breath and continued to glare at her. "You have taken more than a casual interest in our folk-singing friend, Frank Burns. Isn't that so?"

  Her heart was in her mouth as she wondered if Bertha had finally decided to tell the head doctor what had happened in the assembly room the night of the dance.

  "I've talked with Frank Burns," she said. "I don't know him that well."

  "I must be mistaken, then," Dr. Werner said coldly. "You may be aware that he is making an effort to have his mother change her mind about his commitment here."

  "I hadn't heard about it," she lied carefully.

  "I have some correspondence on my desk at this very moment," he declared. "And I'm strongly advising Mrs. Burns not to take her son out of Tranquility Place."

  "You consider him dangerous?" She asked him the blunt question to upset him.

  He swallowed hard. "I think he would be a serious problem for his family if he were allowed to go free. And I have an idea that he was the one who beat up Morton."

  "Why?"

  "They've had some bitter arguments, and I think Burns is doing this to harass me into agreeing to give him his liberty. It's part of a plan of his to create so much trouble here, I'll be eager to see him go."

  "Isn't that rather unlikely?" she asked. "If you were able to prove that he acted so violently, it would go hard against him. I can't see him taking the risk."

  "He's wild and reckless," Dr. Werner said harshly. "I'm almost sure he's the guilty one. And somehow I'm going to collect the necessary evidence. Any hint you can offer would be helpful."

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't think of anything to tell you."

  "Indeed?" His tone was cutting.

  "I hope you clear the mystery up and that there is no more trouble."

  "I will," the head doctor promised. "It seems that an unlikely romance has sprung up between Frank Burns and that epileptic girl. And they're both conspiring to evade further treatment at the same time. That girl must know something. With luck, she may soon talk."

  Jean listened as he said this, wondering if he were setting a trap for her by pretending to know more about the romance than he did, and expecting her to corroborate his information or add to it. She knew that the only safe course for her was to pretend to be innocent of any love affair between Frank and Peggy.

  She said, "I had no idea that there was anything between those two."

  "Then you must be either blind or a liar, Miss Shannon," the head doctor said angrily, and with a final scowl for her, he turned and strode out of her office.

  CHAPTER TEN

  There was no letup in the tensions that hung over Tranquility Place. It seemed to Jean that the name of the private mental hospital was especially ironic in view of all that had happened. Dr. Werner decided on a regime of austerity to replace the normally free and easy atmosphere of the daily routine. Orderlies were more in evidence, and the group social functions were cut down or canceled altogether.

  Jean met the ancient Victoria Wales in one of the recreation rooms one day. The old woman complained bitterly about the new regulations. Wearing a black dress with a stiff lace collar and lace trim at the sleev
es, she looked like a caricature that had stepped out of a cartoon of another era.

  In her aristocratic tones she told Jean, "Things are quite impossible here now. As a resort, it is a ghastly failure."

  "I know it's not nearly so pleasant," Jean agreed.

  A doleful look on her wrinkled face, Victoria Wales confided, "I have never been quite satisfied with Dr. Werner. After all, he is not one of us. And it has never been more evident that he is a socially inferior person. The very idea of canceling our dances!"

  "When he finds out who attacked Morton, he may relax the new rules," Jean suggested.

  "Morton!" the old woman said with an indignant sniff. "I really prefer not to discuss that boor!"

  "It's unfortunate he made so many enemies," Jean said, wondering if the ancient society leader might have some clue to the guilty person without being aware of it.

  "None of the really nice people here cared for him," Victoria Wales said at once.

  "True. And some actually hated him."

  The old woman pointed a skinny forefinger at Jean. "That is so true! I for one always turned my back on the boor!"

  Jean continued to probe. "And there were others," she said with a knowing look.

  Victoria Wales smiled smugly. It was apparent that she was enjoying these few moments of gossip. "I remember it was just the same with President Harding. There were those who made a lot of him simply because he happened to be the president. But with those of us who were true society, it made no difference."

  "I'm sure of that."

  Victoria Wales tittered. "I remember telling a dear friend of mine, Rosalie Wells, that I simply would not entertain President Harding in the same rooms in which I had King Edward as my guest. I simply couldn't think of it!"

  "Of course you couldn't," Jean said, and steering the old woman back to the topic that mattered most, she added, "And many people here couldn't tolerate Morton after the way he treated poor old Mr. Maxwell."

  The old woman's wrinkled face showed sadness. She shook her head. "That was a pity. It shocked me! And, you know, Morton didn't get along that well with the staff, either. I heard Dr. Breton call him down in a most ugly fashion one day. They didn't know I was in the hallway listening."

  This caught Jean's attention. And the idea it planted came as a shock. Everyone assumed that it had been a patient who had attacked Morton. Yet there was no reason why it couldn't have been some member of the staff. The old woman's reference to Dr. Breton started Jean on a whole new train of thought.

  "What were they arguing about?" she asked.

  The old woman blinked. "It wasn't that clear to me, but I think it had to do with some errand. Dr. Breton had entrusted Morton with some money to do an errand. From their argument, it appeared that Morton had neglected to take care of it."

  "How interesting!"

  "Yes," Victoria Wales said. "It surely proves that Morton was disliked by everyone. And that he was not trustworthy."

  "True."

  "If there is one thing I ask for in a person, it is that he be trustworthy," the former society leader said. "My late husband drilled that into me. He would say, 'Victoria, don't make a friend of anyone you basically feel you can't trust. Instincts are stronger than intelligence!' And I have always felt that way."

  "It is probably very true," Jean said, catering to her.

  "Do try to see that the social program here is restored," Victoria Wales urged. "Otherwise I shall surely have to consider moving to some other more interesting place."

  "I'll do my best," Jean promised her as they parted.

  She made up her mind to question Ken Hastings about this as soon as possible. Perhaps there had been a more serious quarrel between the stout doctor and the orderly than anyone realized. She found it hard to believe that Dr. Breton would resort to violence, but one could never be sure.

  At the end of the day, she walked back to her quarters with Nurse Muriel Evans. Since she knew that Muriel had a lot to do with the care of the male patients, she questioned her about Steve Abrams. The conversation lasted for the short walk, and Muriel came to her room with her to finish their discussion.

  Seated by the window, Muriel said, "Steve is in very bad shape. If any of the youngsters who believe that taking drugs, especially LSD, is a lark, they should see him."

  "It's really bad, I know," Jean agreed from the edge of her bed where she had sat down. "That day he attacked me, I was frozen with fear."

  "And he's had other bad spells since," Muriel said. "Sometimes he has a relapse and begins to whimper like a terrified animal. It's pitiful to watch him crouch there trembling."

  "And during some of his other spells he becomes violent."

  "Just as he was the day he attacked you," Muriel agreed. "And worst of all, you can never tell when he's going to slip into one of those fits or how they'll affect him."

  Jean gave her a questioning look. "Do you think he might have attacked Morton during one of his fits?"

  "I've thought so from the beginning," Muriel said. "I don't know why Dr. Werner thinks it was Frank Burns—unless it's because it suits him."

  "That's very likely the reason," Jean agreed. "He's anxious to blacken Frank's record."

  "Something else will happen," was Muriel's prediction. "Mark my words, it's bound to. Everyone is so jumpy here."

  "I know."

  "And they'll probably catch Steve and find out it was he who caused the trouble all along."

  "I hope so."

  Muriel got up. "Have you seen Bertha lately?"

  "We've passed in the corridors," Jean said, also rising. "But we never speak."

  "It's just as well to keep her at a distance," Muriel advised. "I wouldn't call her a friend of yours."

  "I know."

  "I wonder if she's dated Ken Hastings again. I'm sure she has her cap set for him."

  "Ken is level-headed enough to be aware of that," Jean said.

  "You're the one who is right for him," the other nurse said generously. "I hope you make up."

  Jean smiled and said nothing. She, too, hoped to see more of the young doctor.

  Muriel left her shortly afterward, and she quickly washed some small items she had been saving for a free moment. When she returned to the hospital later for her evening meal, she decided that the temperature must have dropped to zero or below.

  At the community table, she was surprised to find Dr. Werner seated with Dr. Breton and Head Nurse Catherine Moore. Jean took a vacant chair after exchanging greetings with them. Dr. Werner and the stout Dr. Breton were having a long-winded discussion of the qualities of various hockey teams. She found it boring and paid little attention to them.

  Head Nurse Moore also seemed left out of it. She gave Jean a sad smile and said, "I'll be glad when the winter is over. We seem so shut up here during this season."

  "I've never been here during the summer," Jean remarked as the waitress served her soup.

  "It's lovely," the head nurse said. "And we organize a number of extra activities for the patients."

  "What kind?"

  "We have picnics, and an annual lobster cook-out where relatives come as guests. And Dr. Breton takes on hikes some of the male patients who are well enough to go."

  "It certainly gives everyone a lot more freedom," Jean remarked.

  Dr. Werner apparently had overheard them, for he now spoke up, saying, "We try to make Tranquility Place unique in atmosphere. It is only lately that we've been faced with problems."

  "I'm sure they are only temporary," Jean said.

  "There is an element of uneasiness here that we didn't have before," Dr. Werner said, studying her coldly. "If I can search it out and eliminate it, we can return to our former pleasant state."

  Dr. Firth Breton now joined in ponderously. "We mustn't allow the unrest that is so prevalent in the outside world to manifest itself inside the hospital."

  Jean smiled derisively. "You can hardly compare that kind of unrest with what Dr. Werner is referring to, can you
?"

  "I don't see why not," the florid-faced doctor said. "It's as though there is a kind of virus in the air. A sickness of dissatisfaction and unrest that is almost epidemic. Why should even a mental hospital be able to escape from it?"

  "An interesting question," she mused. And she looked at the ugly Dr. Werner. "Is that what you had in mind?"

  "Not entirely," he said. "I feel that certain individuals are responsible for the trouble here. Eliminate the individuals and you eliminate the trouble."

  "But if the individuals happen to be patients, isn't it your duty to cure them rather than to remove them from the hospital?" Jean suggested.

  The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Ken Hastings, who brought news of a forthcoming convention, and the talk switched to that. When the meal ended, Ken Hastings managed to leave with Jean. Outside the dining room, they paused to have a few words in private.

  "Do you ski?" he wanted to know.

  "A little," she said, puzzled.

  "I have the afternoon off tomorrow," he said. "Why don't you get someone to work for you, and we'll go skiing and have dinner at Creighton's afterward. I'll drive us to the slopes in my car, and then we'll go to the restaurant when it gets dark."

  "I'll have to borrow skis from Muriel," she said. "And maybe she'll work in my place."

  "Ask her," Ken said.

  "I will," Jean told him with a smile. "I warn you, I'm a novice on skis."

  "You're probably as good as I am. At least it will get us out into the air and sunshine, and away from this place."

  "Anything new?"

  He gazed around cautiously, then said, "I think we'd better leave any discussions until tomorrow. I'll pick you up at the house at one o'clock."

  "I'll let you know if Muriel can't work for me," she promised.

  She questioned the telephone operator and was told that Muriel wasn't in her room. The friendly nurse had come over for dinner and remained in the main building. On discovering this, Jean began searching for her. She tried all the various public rooms, including the assembly room.