Stone Haven

by Holly Fox Vellekoop

  Danville Medical Hospital's staff cared for the needs of Montour County citizens until 1932, when the hospital just couldn't survive those rough times of an economy in shambles. Mr. Ashman was pleased to be out from under the burden when it was eventually scaled down to accommodate only the twenty-six patients left in residence. Accepting no new admissions, the hospital continued providing care for each one until the last expired in 1939.

  Wealthy Elizabeth Hastings Stone, attorney Louis Garfield Stone's wife and the mother of Dr. Lesley Stone, then purchased the property for a mere $25,000. She hadn't a clue what she was going to do with it, but bought it anyway. Mrs. Stone had no way of knowing that her acquisition would, many years later, become Stone Haven, a refuge for the mentally ill. She made the purchase because she adored the grounds and the architecture. She enjoyed spending her money.

  Elizabeth was a highly respected philanthropist whose interests ranged from the local library that family friend Thomas Beaver had built for Danville citizens, to the high school her sons Lesley and Samuel attended. A religious woman, she also gave large sums of money to missionaries.

  Stone Haven's Victorian effect was not lost on Sheski. Knowing it was a center for the mentally ill, he imagined a multitude of bizarre crazies drooling and relieving themselves on the tile and parquet flooring. His imaginings were far from the reality of present-day life there.

  At any given time, only ten to twenty private-paying clients from America's wealthiest families find respite on the first floor of the building. They are meticulously cared for and rarely seen by outsiders.

  Stone Haven's caseload not in residence arrives under a cloak of privacy at conveniently scheduled times of the day for sessions with psychiatrists Dr. Lesley Stone or Dr. Richard Burns. Clients also receive services from a social worker, dietician, nurse, and other professionals hired to meet the patient's individual needs.

  Dr. Stone founded the private hospital for the east coast's wealthy in 1976, in memory of his deceased brother Samuel. According to the local police report to Sheski, both Lesley and Samuel had inherited the property in July 1968 from their mother. Attorney Louis Stone, their father, had already been dead for two years from a heart attack.

  Sheski read in the police background report that Lesley and Samuel's mother's untimely death occurred in a car accident on the convoluted back road to Catawissa while on her way to an appointment with her interior decorator. Long black skid marks at the accident scene led officers to conclude that Elizabeth Stone had braked and swerved to avoid hitting someone or something that had wandered onto the black macadam road. With no guardrails to prevent what happened next, the attractive, wealthy, middle-aged woman perished as her Rolls Royce impacted on the railroad tracks below. She died at the scene.

  The hospital property became Lesley's exactly one year later when his bachelor brother Samuel, a manicdepressive taking the newly-introduced Lithium, acci dentally drowned. He reportedly had wandered naked down Ferry Street during a late-night manic episode and walked into the Susquehanna River, murky from recent upriver rainfall. Samuel was often noncompliant with his med regimen, resulting in some brushes with the law. This time there were dire consequences when his blood level dipped below the narrow range of therapeutic efficacy. His drowning left Lesley as the sole heir to the immense Stone family fortune. Sheski reflected on the many disastrous happenings in Dr. Stone's family.

  Stone Haven bears no resemblance to early psychiatric hospitals where the patients spent their time wailing or responding to unseen stimuli and receiving more primitive treatments. This facility takes pride in providing, for an undisclosed fee, well-staffed private treatment for those who can afford it. Inpatient clients stay in immaculate individual small apartments equipped with antique furniture, high-tech entertainment equipment, and, when permitted, kitchenettes. Only the best of medical and psychiatric care, therapies, and dining options are provided. Rumor has it that a few wives and behavior-problem offspring of statesmen, performers, and powerful men are in residence. They are mentally ill, depressed, or have eating disorders or compulsions, and are said to be spending their lives carefully and expensively tucked away in Stone Haven suites. Staff persons are forbidden to discuss their clients' identities, so the rumors go unsubstantiated. They know that they would face immediate dismissal from their positions should an indiscretion occur. Anonymity and excellent care have kept the census up and a long waiting list intact.

  Sheski pulled into a visitor's parking place, turned off the engine, took a deep breath, and said to Mike, "Let's get this over with." Their observant eyes scanned the grounds as they walked through the doors and crossed the tiled floors. Approaching the receptionist's desk, the lawmen flashed badges and identified themselves. Sheski asked the receptionist for directions to Dr. Stone's office.

  "Are you two carrying any weapons?" Sarah, the receptionist/secretary queried. "We don't permit weapons inside Stone Haven, not even on policemen. Policy, you know"

  Sheski observed Sarah as she talked. She was attractive with an average build and looked to be in her late twenties.

  Sarah expected opposition to relinquishing their weapons. She was accustomed to resistance from policemen when it came to the issue of their firearms, and braced herself for the refusal. None was forthcoming.

  The two men were prepared for this. Stone Haven had a reputation known to lawmen when it came to weapons. They rarely had to come here, but on those occasions it was expected that John Deadly, Stone Haven's security man, would confiscate whatever firearms they were carrying.

  Sarah paged John, who arrived quickly. Because of his name, John Deadly was something of a joke for those who had contact with him in security matters. The name Deadly did not seem to suit the diminutive 5'6" man. However, after just minutes in his presence, a person's initial view took a 180-degree turn. John Deadly, a retired army veteran, backed down from no one. His steely gaze, deep voice, and firm adherence to security procedures were unshakable.

  His only redeeming quality that acquaintances had discovered was a love of gardening and art. Upon engaging him in conversation regarding those topics, one would find that he became uncharacteristically obliging and animated.

  Deadly was wearing a blue uniform with a gold lettered shield above the left breast pocket. His gray hair fell just below the top of his ears and was crowned by a blue tam-'o-chanter, which was cocked to the right side of his head. A thick ring of keys of all shapes and sizes dangled noisily on his right groin area from a short chain attached to a thick black belt. In his early sixties, he was still quick, and wasted no time in relieving the two officers of their standard issue .40-caliber Glocks. After the weapons were locked inside the hospital vault, Deadly escorted the men to an elevator leading to Dr. Stone's second-floor office.

  Walking in front of the security man, both troopers were aware that he was watching them closely. Their attempts to engage him in conversation brought nothing more than a curt answer. Apparently he was not interested in small talk. At least not with them. They rode the elevator silently to the second floor.

  As they exited and went the short distance to Dr. Stone's office door, their escort broke his silence and grunted, "What brings State Police detectives here to Stone Haven? We don't see much of you guys. Is there a security issue I should be aware of?"

  Deadly was eyeing them suspiciously while he waited for their reply.

  "We need to talk with Dr. Stone at this time," Sheski stated evenly. "If you're to be included in our scope of interviews, we will certainly be getting back to you."

  From the petulant look on Deadly's face, he did not appreciate being left out of the loop. He replied unconvincingly, "I'll help in any way I can."

  Sheski knocked on the wood door, and the three men waited for the psychiatrist.

  Dr. Lesley Stone greeted the troopers at his office entrance and invited them in with firm handshakes, flashing his security man a wary look that neither officer could interpret. Deadly looked back and then ret
reated down the hall.

  Sheski displayed his badge, offered the psychiatrist their condolences, and waited for the shaken man to compose himself. He was glad someone had already phoned with the bad news.

  "Dr. Stone, we need to ask you some questions," Sheski began, hoping he could soon take a seat. It was now 6:15 P.M. and he was tired from the demands of his job. At the age of fifty-four, Sheski was burning out and he knew it. He was showing all the signs. Once this case is over, he thought, I'm gonna take a long vacation to somewhere the sun always shines, and far enough away that if people are murdered, I won't have to get involved.

  The psychiatrist stood near a chair behind his desk, dabbed at his eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief, and replied in a broken voice, "Of course I'll try to help all I can. I want to find the bastard who did this to Rose. Oh, God," he said mournfully, "she was so lovely, so perfect. There isn't another like her. She had everything a woman could want."

  Dr. Stone began to slow his speech. "I loved her so much."

  He slowly lowered his tall frame into the leather desk chair and covered his eyes with his hands. Dressed in an expensive dark suit, and dark shirt and tie, he was what men and women alike would call a good-looking man. Educated at Harvard, he had both a medical degree and an MBA. The masters degree, he correctly thought, would help him with Stone Haven's business demands.

  Sheski waited a few minutes for the doc to compose himself. He and Mike kept their eyes on him. They didn't get this far up the state police ladder by not being observant. Their subject made no sound. He just sat there, head in hands. So they waited.

  Sheski leaned against a mahogany sideboard that held a crystal decanter with eight small glasses, a bronze replica of the Medici horse, and some old hospital memorabilia in a locked, glass case. He shifted his gaze from the doctor and leaned over to view the artifacts that were identified by neatly-typed cards glued beneath each object. Once-tortuous trephining tools, three white porcelain feeding cups with Danville Medical Hospital hand-painted in gold leaf on the front, and a well-worn, eight-by-ten, leather-bound book completed the collection. The writing on the kid leather cover was illegible but its typed card identified it as the Journal of Oliver Pratt. Sheski raised an eyebrow and thought that it looked interesting.

  Above the sideboard, placed side by side, were two beautifully painted scenes of the Susquehanna river at the turn of the century. They were showcased in massive ornate gold frames. Sheski leaned closer and squinted to read the painter's signature. A single P with a little girl's face painted in the loop was discernible in the left lower corner of each picture. He nudged Mike to take a look, which he did. They then stood silently in front of Dr. Stone's desk and waited. Waiting quietly during an interrogation was an art, and, despite fatigue, Sheski was a master.

  The statie looked further around the office. Obviously the doc had done well for himself. Large picture windows overlooked a small bar and sideboard. Two couches and a fireplace provided a cozy nook for restful thought. Behind the massive desk, a filled bookcase wound around the room. It looked comfortable, yet practical.

  Dr. Stone lifted his head and asked in a quiet voice, "What do you want to know?"

  Sheski went first. "Well, for starters, where were you today between the hours of three P.M. and now?"

  The coroner had estimated the time of death to be about 4:10 P.M., shortly before Lana arrived at the Stones' residence. Somebody had a lot of nerve murdering this woman in broad daylight, thought Sheski. And psychiatrists usually have a lot of nerve. Sheski and Mike both knew that the spouse is always the main suspect at the beginning of a murder case. This one was no different. The doc had better have a good alibi.

  Dr. Stone slowly opened his schedule book and reviewed the day's planned events. He ran his finger down the page and said quietly, "Please sit down while I clear my head" Both officers thankfully seated themselves on an overstuffed couch and were surprised by its comfort.

  "I was having a private session with one of my clients," Dr. Stone went on. "I don't need to remind either of you that any patient's name is privileged information, but you can verify my story with my secretary"

  Sheski made a mental note to do just that.

  "Go on"

  "Well, the session began at three-thirty and continued for two hours. My client was scheduled for just a one-hour session, but we were making progress, so I permitted it to go longer than planned. My next client wasn't scheduled until now, so I had plenty of time."

  The doctor's face changed as he realized he had forgotten something. "Oh, excuse me, I must tell Sarah to cancel my six-thirty appointment." He hurriedly picked up his phone and made a call.

  The troopers waited patiently while Dr. Stone informed Sarah of the reason for the police visit, and asked her to make the cancellation. "Oh, yes," he said as an afterthought, "please notify Dr. Burns of Rose's death, too"

  Sarah must have told him the client was standing there waiting because the doctor became frustrated, and asked her to please handle the matter. He quickly placed the receiver on its base. Stone took a few moments to regain his composure and, leaning back on his chair, stared blankly at the detectives, waiting for their next question.

  Sheski had been thinking about the fees that the wealthy families were being charged for Stone Haven services. He didn't know what the cost was, but was sure it was more than his salary. He grimaced, thinking how a policeman puts his life on the line every day for five figures a year while others, whose only peril is awaiting the country club's approval to join, rake in the kind of dough required to live life at its best.

  It was at that moment that Dr. Stone's clear blue eyes enlarged, his mouth dropped open and he rose out of his chair, holding onto the desktop with white knuckles. "Oh, no," he said in a low voice, touching his right hand to his forehead, "has anyone told Karen yet?" He was referring to his and Rose's only child. He stared back and forth from one detective to the other and rapidly repeated his question.

  Sheski had been wondering why the doc was taking so long to think of her.

  "She will need me to be with her when she's told," the doctor said firmly. "Karen and her mother have not been very close these past months, and this will be a terrible shock to her."

  "We have someone trying to locate your daughter now. As soon as Karen is found, I'll be paged and we'll go talk to her. You're welcome to come along with us" He paused and then, looking Lesley directly in the eyes, asked, "Why were your wife and daughter estranged?"

  Dr. Stone's handsome face showed signs of strain as he remembered the difficulties they had with Karen. "She's thirty years old now. It's hard to believe that our little girl is grown and an accomplished artist." He sighed and looked away from the detectives before continuing his story.

  "Raised in a family of wealth, our daughter was accustomed to having anything and everything that she wanted," he explained. "She never took no for an answer, although `no' was something she rarely heard." He frowned at that disclosure. "Whenever we tried to set limits, it led to rebellion and tantrums. She would stay out all night or refuse to talk to us until we caved in." He went on to explain unapologetically, "which we usually did."

  The psychiatrist continued by explaining that they lavished expensive clothing and presents on their daughter from the time that she was born. "We knew," Lesley said quietly, "that Karen would be our only child. We were told the morning after our daughter's birth that, due to delivery complications, Rose could never conceive again. She took the news hard and plunged into a six-month postpartum depression. So deeply did she internalize her anger and sadness that she crawled into her bed and stayed there for the first two months of Karen's life, only getting up to use the adjoining powder room to take care of her personal needs"

  How fortunate for her to have a live-in psychiatrist, thought Sheski.

  As if reading his mind, Dr. Stone said, "Rose refused psychiatric therapy, but accepted an antidepressant. She began to improve and, four weeks later, got out of bed a
nd told me that she was headed to the Pocono mountains in northeastern Pennsylvania. She returned renewed from the exclusive Lincoln Spa north of Scranton, and began caring for Karen, who was already learning to sit up unaided."

  Sheski thought there must have been scant opportunity for the young mother and infant daughter to bond.

  "It was Karen's birthday when I presented Rose with the Darling Diamond ring," the doctor explained. "I was ecstatic about the birth, so I also had a matching one-carat ring made for Karen. Both were hand-crafted one-of-a-kinds by Hiram Goldblum, a New York City specialty goldsmith." Lesley enjoyed talking about his possessions and, momentarily pushing aside the reason for the interview, became engaging.

  "There are none like it anywhere. The one-carat stone was purchased on diamond row when I was in Manhattan. The nine-carat was part of an inheritance from my mother."

  The psychiatrist went on to proudly explain that his daughter received her ring on her tenth birthday, when other birthday girls her age were getting dolls.

  "Karen was the only student in grade school with her own diamond ring," he boasted. He told of how she regularly wore it to classes, making the faculty very nervous. When Karen's teacher approached her parents with the suggestion that, for safety's sake, the little girl not wear the ring to school, Rose and Dr. Stone threw their weight around and the suggestion was reluctantly withdrawn.

  Sheski's face did not betray the sick feeling he had about a kid sporting an expensive piece of jewelry at school. No wonder she gave them such a bad time, he thought, she had no boundaries placed on her.

  "Whoever stole my ring will have to take great care where they sell it," Dr. Stone said harshly. "The diamond has quite a provenance and is well known in the jewelry circles. It will be instantly recognized."