Psychiatric Nurse

by Dan Ross

  "I plead innocent to both charges," she said.

  He smiled coldly. "I expected you would. And I do know that Dr. Breton is inclined to put things off. Still, you have no right to be abusive toward him."

  "I wasn't."

  "He says you were," the senior doctor said smoothly. "But in view of all our other unfortunate problems of the moment, I'm going to let this pass. I'll merely warn you that it is important that the members of our staff get along together."

  "The trouble is Dr. Breton's slipshod method of keeping records," she insisted.

  "I have also spoken to him about this failing," Dr. Werner said. "He'll have the charts on your desk before you leave this afternoon."

  "That means I'll have to remain late to take care of them," she pointed out.

  "And I've asked him to have them sent to you before noon in the future."

  "I doubt that he will."

  Dr. Werner looked annoyed. "We shall see. You can inform me if he doesn't. But do not quarrel with him about it. Bring the problem to me."

  "Very well," she said.

  He eyed her sharply. "You know about the unfortunate attack on Nurse Fraser?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm sure you'll be interested to learn that I've placed the blame for the attack on Frank Burns. He and Miss Fraser had a quarrel the other night. There seems no doubt that he is the one who beat up both Morton and this girl."

  She listened with disbelief. "How can you say it was Frank Burns?"

  "Circumstantial evidence," he said coolly. "For the time being, I have placed him in confinement in our violent cell. Later, I'll decide what kind of treatment he needs."

  She couldn't help blurting out, "But you must know you're blaming the wrong man!"

  "Why do you say that?" Dr. Werner snapped the question.

  "I just know it!"

  He rose with a cynical smile. "I know the deep sympathy you feel for that young man. But I can tell you that you've allowed yourself to be unduly influenced by a patient."

  "I don't feel that way."

  "I do. So please don't bother me any more with your protests as to Burns's innocence. I have made up my mind. Also, I have decided to have extra guard duty in the hospital, at least until the excitement has died down. You and a number of the other nurses will be required to give some extra time in supervising the patients. I'll let you know your hours of additional work later."

  It was another of his curt dismissals, she realized, and with a heavy heart she left his office.

  Instead of going back to her own desk, she sought out Ken. He was in the therapy room talking to the nurse in charge. Steve Abrams sat at a bench doing some simple woodwork. The youth glanced up when Jean came into the room, and smiled at her. She returned his smile, noting that he usually didn't pay attention to anyone unless he was spoken to. He seemed much more alert than usual.

  When Ken finished his discussion with the other nurse, Jean took him aside and told him about her discussion with Dr. Werner. He listened gravely.

  "He's in a panic," she said. "It's hard to say what drastic measures he'll take. Putting Frank Burns in the violent cell is certainly bad judgment. He has left himself open to censure."

  "Maybe it will work to our advantage," Ken said, his brow furrowed. "Frank's mother and Peggy Chase's father will be here the first of the week. Any foolish moves Werner makes will count against him."

  "But suppose something awful happens in the meantime?" she fretted. "Being treated this way could push Frank over the edge. Especially as he's worried about Peggy. And she's had a second seizure in a very short period of time."

  "That's suspicious," Ken said. "I wonder if they were actual seizures or some sort of chemical reaction. Peggy is terrified of seizures, and would be quick to interpret any similar illness as one."

  "I hadn't thought of that," Jean admitted.

  "I'll manage to see both Frank and Peggy and talk to them. In the meantime, be careful of what you say to Werner. I think he knows that we're quietly working against him."

  "He suggested that just now."

  "Let him suggest it as much as he likes, but show no reaction," was Ken's advice.

  "I'll be careful," she said. She looked over at the bench where Steve Abrams was still at work. "He seems much better than before," she said. "He even smiled at me when I came in here just now."

  Ken raised his eyebrows. "I didn't notice."

  "Do you suppose it's a true improvement?"

  "I hope so," the handsome doctor said. "At least it is a change in his condition. I'll chat with him after you leave, and see how well he manages to keep up a conversation."

  Her eyes met his in a troubled glance. "We did suspect him above anyone else," she reminded him. "Do you think this odd alertness could be a clue that he is the guilty one?"

  "It's hard to say," Ken said. "But I'll watch him."

  Jean left the main building at four and went across the lawn to her room. The snow had ended, but the sky looked as if another storm was on its way. She was still in her room at six o'clock when Muriel Evans stopped by.

  "I have a message for you," Muriel said.

  "Oh?"

  "You're to start your first extra night duty at eleven. Dr. Werner wants you to take a half shift from eleven to three. Then someone else will relieve you."

  "He threatened something like that," Jean said wearily. "Do you think it will do any good?"

  Muriel shrugged. "He seems to have the idea that security is the answer."

  "Why? I mean, why, if he really believes Frank Burns is responsible for the attacks. He has him locked up. What need is there for all this extra precaution?"

  "According to Dr. Breton, this sort of rebellion can be epidemic. It may spread to other patients."

  Jean offered her friend a bitter smile. "X suspect that Dr. Breton is more of an expert on bookies than he is on the care of the mentally ill."

  Muriel nodded. "I know."

  "How is Bertha Fraser?"

  "She's coming along well," Muriel said. "Most of the bruises on her face were superficial, so she won't have any permanent scars."

  "I'm glad of that," Jean said quietly. "You can tell Dr. Werner that I'll report for a second period of duty at eleven."

  Ken Hastings didn't appear at dinner. The atmosphere at the community table shared by the staff was tense and almost entirely silent. Dr. Werner wasn't on hand, either. The stout Dr. Breton looked glum, while Head Nurse Catherine Moore was in one of her frightened moods. All in all, it was a depressing assembly.

  Jean went back to her room and slept until ten-thirty. As soon as the alarm rang, she quickly got up and washed and put on her uniform. As she made her way across the lawn to the lighted main building, she noted that it had started to snow lightly again.

  Head Nurse Catherine Moore was on duty and told her, "I'd like you to take over at the cottage for the female patients."

  Jean went through the passageway to the cottage and found a friendly blonde girl already there. They chatted for a few moments and then began a regular patrol of the building, which contained about sixteen individual rooms.

  Once the senile Victoria Wales popped her head out of her room to smile at Jean and say, "I didn't know we were to have night maids on duty."

  Jean paused to tell her, "It's only for a short time."

  The old woman looked distressed. "I don't know what will happen here next. Things are completely topsy-turvy. If it keeps up, we'll have no social life at all."

  Jean said good night, and the old woman went back into her room. Later, Jean stopped by Peggy Chase's room, but she didn't talk to the petite, dark girl since Peggy was already asleep. At one o'clock, she left the cottage to take a ten-minute coffee break in the cafeteria. The cafeteria was a much different sort of place at this after-midnight hour. Only one elderly waitress was on duty, and most of the lights were out.

  She was surprised to find Ken Hastings seated at a table having coffee. When he saw her, he rose to greet her wit
h a tired smile. "So Werner did put you to work?"

  "Yes. Female cottage until three," she said. "How long will this travesty go on?"

  "Until Werner gets over his panic," Ken said. "I missed you at dinner."

  "I know," she said. She took her coffee over and they sat down together. "Anything new?"

  "No," he said. "I spent some time trying to probe Steve Abrams about what he thought of the attacks. I didn't get any sensible replies. He's still very confused in his thinking."

  "Or wants to make others believe he is," she said pointedly.

  He sighed. "I realize that possibility. I've worried about it ever since this afternoon."

  They talked for a little while longer, and then he walked part of the way back to the cottage with her. He went on to his own office.

  Jean hurried along the semidark corridor realizing that she had been away a little longer than she had expected. She was close to the entrance of the women's cottage when she smelled smoke, and a wave of alarm went through her. Before she had time to think about it, the other nurse on duty came running tearfully toward her.

  "Fire in the cottage!" she cried. "I must have dozed off for a moment. When I woke up, the corridor was full of smoke!"

  "The patients must be gotten out!" Jean exclaimed at the same instant that the fire-alarm system sounded a loud clamor. It was automatic, and connected with the sprinkler safety system. In theory, the buildings were fireproof, but Jean wasn't by any means convinced of this.

  They ran on ahead to the already smoke-filled cottage. Then began the nightmare task of moving the terrified patients to the adjoining cottage. Nurses and orderlies from other sections of the hospital came to help. Soon there was a line of patients in the corridor leading to the next cottage.

  Jean, holding a water-soaked hankie across her nose and mouth, had seen Peggy Chase and a half-dozen other patients out safely. Now she met the nurse who had been on duty with her in the phantomlike atmosphere of the smoke-clouded cottage.

  The other nurse made an agitated gesture and shouted, "Victoria Wales! She went back for something!"

  Jean gave her colleague a look of alarm. Then, without hesitation, she plunged once again into the thick smoke of the passageway. Groping in the near darkness, she found the open door of Victoria Wales's room, and in the next instant stumbled over the old woman's unconscious body on the floor. Grasping her under the arms, she began to pull her out into the corridor to safety.

  The effort made Jean breathe more deeply, and she could no longer protect her nose and mouth with the wet hankie. The stinging, acrid smoke began to smother her. She moved along more slowly, dragging her burden and groping to find the nearest exit.

  The smoke eased a little, and she almost felt she had managed to escape suffocation for herself and the old woman when she saw the door of a closet to her right slowly opening and someone coming out to block her way. She caught only a glimpse of the person who had been hiding in the closet—but it was enough to recognize Tom Crater. Then she knew!

  Tom Crater had not been lying as they had all thought! He was the one who had attacked both Morton and Bertha. And now he had maliciously started this fire! The suave young man must have realized what she was thinking, for he came toward her threateningly.

  "No!" she cried. And she let go of Victoria Wales and fell back against the wall as Tom Crater's hands reached out amid the clouds of smoke to grasp her by the throat.

  At that point, she collapsed.

  And when she came to, she was in Ken Hastings' office lying on a cot. The young doctor was bending over her.

  "It's all right," he said. "The fire is under control. Victoria was saved, as well as all the others. And we have Tom Crater safely under custody. He certainly didn't lie about his evil deeds in here!"

  She felt a deep relief coupled with her weakness. At least Frank Burns was vindicated. With a wan smile, she said, "A classic example to prove that patterns in cases do sometimes vary."

  "I can't argue about that," Ken said, looking grimly amused. "Now we only have to win the battle of Werner."

  Which didn't prove too difficult. The parents of Peggy and Frank arrived at the Portsmouth Hotel on a bleak Monday afternoon when the weather was below zero. Jean and Ken went there to hold a meeting with them. The young doctor spoke with emotion and produced statistics to show the mismanagement of Dr. Werner's handling of the hospital.

  The session ended with Peggy's father agreeing to remove her from the hospital at once, and Frank's mother promising to bring the matter of negligent administration before the board. Though both Jean and Ken felt that they had won a victory, they weren't positive about it until several weeks later, when a grim-faced Dr. Werner announced his resignation due to difficulty with the board in deciding on hospital policy. This was followed by the board's offering the post of director to Dr. Ken Hastings.

  All traces of the Maine winter had vanished, and it was a warm afternoon in late April when Frank Burns was officially discharged from the hospital. Peggy Chase was driving to Portsmouth to meet him at the hotel. And because Jean had been so interested in the fate of these two young people, Ken had invited her to his office to share in the good-byes.

  Jean smiled at the yellow-haired young millionaire. "I hope you don't try any more wild schemes as soon as you leave here."

  Frank's long, freckled face offered her a return smile. "Not this time," he said. "I've learned a lot in here. And one of the things is that happiness is something to be worked for and earned. Maybe I can use some of my money to provide that kind of opportunity for a few lost hippies like myself."

  "Sounds reasonably sensible," Ken Hastings agreed. "Good luck." He extended his hand to the young man. "Peggy will be waiting for you in Portsmouth."

  "Thanks," Frank said. "She'll be my main concern for a while." He turned to Jean. "Thank you, too. You were both great!"

  When he had gone and they were alone in the big mahogany-paneled office that Ken had inherited from Dr. Werner, the young doctor faced Jean with an expression of amused irony.

  "Well," he said, "we have Frank and Peggy on their way. It seems we've settled all our problems except one."

  Jean gazed at him tenderly. "We can concentrate on that one now."

  "I intend to," Ken said, and he took her in his arms for a long and meaningful kiss.