by Judith Lucci
The man extended his hand." Oh, I should have known. I've heard about the beautiful, auburn-haired CCMC lawyer ever since I arrived. I am Lester Whitset, the onsite contract manager over the psych, oops, I mean behavioral health department here at CCMC. I'm surprised we haven't met before."
Alex accepted his hand. It was cold, so cold Alex likened it to a corpse. It had a clammy feeling and gave her the creeps. Lester Whitset was so white he looked positively dead. Ugh, she thought to herself, as she shivered slightly in disgust. There was something malevolent about him. He totally grossed her out.
"I believe I was out of town when your group took over the operation of the CCMC psychiatric services. That was in March, wasn't it?" Alex knew she was right. That was when she, Jack, and Robert Bonnet had spent three weeks in Virginia, resting up from Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
"Yes, it was. I've heard a lot about you, Ms. Destephano. The grapevine has it that you're a pretty good sleuth. Are you looking through the patient records so you can find our rapist?" Whitset eyed her carefully, a thin smile on his lips, his eyes cold and unwavering.
Alex was stunned by his question. "Actually, no. I witnessed a potential disaster here today, a fight between the patients, Mr. Whitset. I'm glad we've met each other. We have some work to do up here."
"Please, call me Lester. We're colleagues, are we not? I'd be pleased to call you Alex."
Alex was uncomfortable at the thought of Whitset being a colleague. "Yes, I guess we are. In a sense." She stammered her reply, caught off guard for a moment. The man repulsed her and she wasn't sure why. He gave her the chills. She began again. "Mr. Whitset, I'm concerned about the staffing levels here on the behavioral health units. I understand you cut staff 20% when you took over?”
Whitset glared at her and said nothing.
"I'm convinced that staff numbers aren't appropriate to provide safe care to patients or protect the staff. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure we're meeting a minimum standard of care." Alex continued to belabor her point, uncomfortable under his stare.
Whitset's look froze Alex in her tracks.
His voice was equally as cold. "I assure you, Alex, that safety and standards are being met here in psychiatry. My company was hired to reorganize the psych department and to make it fiscally sound. I've been successful in doing just that. We are experts in Behavioral Health and behavioral health care. Behavior Health at CCMC was a money loser before we took over. I've managed to put it back in the black in six short months -- an accomplishment greatly appreciated by your CEO, Donald Montgomery."
Alex was not to be bested. She gave Whitset a hard look. "Perhaps you have, but at what cost? I'm not so sure. I plan to assess the conditions here, do a risk assessment, and determine just what the care is like, from a risk management perspective, of course. I may hire a team of risk appraisers from outside of Louisiana to review our practices." Alex watched his face darken, suffused with anger, and then continued, "Furthermore, I'd like a copy of your management policies and documents to review as part of the investigation."
"Anything you want, Alex." Whitset's voice was controlled, and only the pulsing of his right carotid artery gave any indication of his rage. He continued, "My office is your office, any time." His eyes wandered over her body. "Anything else you need?" The man was positively leering at her and his intent was clear. His voice remained cold. He gave her a sly smile as he touched her hand.
Alex was startled by his touch and pulled her hand away. The man was positively vile. There was something about him that was malignant. "No, nothing. Please send your internal documents to my office ASAP." Alex turned away from him to continue her chart review.
Whitset persisted, "Alex, "I'll be happy to. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee in my office? It's a gourmet blend, one of Louisiana's finest."
"No, thank you. I'm leaving shortly." Alex didn't look at him. Her reply was short, to the point.
"Don't work your pretty little head too hard now. All work and no play makes Alex a very dull girl." Whitset's voice was hushed and Alex could feel the chill of his body behind her. Finally, he left the room, his heels clicking in a military-like fashion.
What a weird dude, Alex thought to herself. It took her several moments to relax after he left. Her heart was hammering so hard her chest wall was hurting. There was something about him that was repulsive, but she couldn't articulate it. She continued to think about him for a few minutes then returned to Jim McMurdie's chart.
She was surprised to learn that Jim was a former New Orleans police detective. He was presently on disability from the department due to mental illness. The chart indicated that he had snapped when his wife of 12 years left him several months ago, taking along their six-year-old daughter. His wife had been pregnant with their second child at the time she left. An interview with Mrs. McMurdie revealed that Jim had become more and more aggressive in his behavior towards her. In fact, he had suddenly begun accusing her of having extramarital affairs when she was three months pregnant. It was documented that Mrs. McMurdie had become increasingly frightened of Jim and had gotten a restraining order against him. Jim had become so angry at this that he had tried to beat her, which is what had precipitated her filing for divorce. Jim's medical record indicated the treatment team was hopeful that he could control his rage, anger, and jealousy through psychotherapy and with psychotropic drugs. Alex was about to read the physician progress notes in the chart when Monique Desmonde tapped her on the shoulder.
Alex jumped at the touch.
"Good Lord, Alex. I did not mean to scare you! Are the charts making you nervous?" Monique laughed at her.
"No, Monique. I guess I was just so engrossed in Jim McMurdie's chart that you startled me. Let's go. I'm famished."
As Alex and Monique left the attending chart room, Alex was surprised to see Lester Whitset sitting in the day room talking with the patients. He was joking with Jim and Anthony, who were both still pretty doped up, but out of seclusion. Both patients were laughing uproariously with the administrator. Alex moved a little closer to the entrance of the day room and saw that the three were playing cards. Rose was looking at them disdainfully, in obvious disapproval. Mrs. Smithson was knitting a sweater and smiling benevolently at them.
Alex nudged Monique’s shoulder. "Is it usual for Whitset to converse with the patients? I think that's inappropriate."
Monique's eyes traveled to the day room. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in disapproval. "Yep, he comes in most every evening. The nurses hate it. They say he usually stays until after bedtime. Sometimes he's here all night. He's available in the late afternoons and evenings mostly. Angie told me several weeks ago that he seemed to upset the patients from time to time. I've asked him not to be so friendly, but he maintains it's part of his system of quality assurance."
"That's total BS. Can't you keep him out? It seems unprofessional to me that he should visit with them."
Monique shook her head. "I couldn't agree more, but the answer is no. I can't keep him out. I've asked him not to be so familiar with the patients, but he just smiles at me. He knows it makes me mad, so now I don't say much about it. Actually, most of the male psychiatrists disagree with me. They've heard positive things about him from their male patients. The female patients don't seem to like him. I can't garner enough support from my male colleagues to even complain to Don. The whole thing actually disgusts me. Some of the male psych attendings are such pissers," Monique said, obviously piqued by her male colleagues’ behavior.
Out of the blue, Alex retorted, "I don't like the man. He gives me the creeps. I just get an uneasy feeling from him. He's so cold. Yuck."
Monique looked at her curiously. "What do you mean cold? Why does he give you the creeps?"
Alex shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know for sure. I guess it's the way he looked at me. He pretty much undressed me with his eyes."
"Yeah, I know that feeling," Monica intoned. "You, me, and all the female staff. I agree. He is inapp
ropriate as hell, but how can you reprimand someone for looking at you, not that he comes under my review? All he ever does is look. He never says anything lewd or vulgar. I wish he would because I'd love to get him out of here on a sexual harassment charge," Monique replied. "That would make my day."
"I'd love to help you, but the guy is way too smart for that. My guess is that he plays it to the hilt without ever doing anything wrong. I just don't like him. And he is so cold." Alex shivered when she remembered her conversation with him.
"What do you mean 'cold'? You've said that twice now," Monique asked.
"Well," Alex thought a moment, "When he extended his hand in greeting and I accepted it, his hand felt cold, dead, like there was no blood running through it. You know, like somebody who's had a stroke or something. It was just gross, like touching a dead person." Alex shivered at the memory.
Monique nodded. "Not sure I noticed that. I try my best not to touch him. Thank goodness I don't see him much. He's mostly around when I'm not. By the way, Jack's going to eat with us. I didn't think you'd mind."
"Of course not. How did that happen? Does he have any info about Angie or the rapist?"
Much to her surprise, Alex saw a faint blush crawl over Monique's pale face. Her friend looked a bit guilty, as if she had been found out.
"Well," she said with some hesitation, "Jack and I are pretty good friends."
"Yes, well Jack and I are pretty good friends, too, but I don't blush when I talk about him," Alex retorted, confused by Monique's response.
"Well, we sort of decided ... well, we're special ...." Monique rambled, stumbling for the best way to describe the change in her feelings for Jack.
Alex was losing patience. Then she slowly began to understand. "What! Great day, you and Jack!" She could hardly believe it. Commander Françoise and Dr. Desmonde! Jack and Monique! Two of her favorite people. They were an item! She hugged Monique in her excitement.
Monique couldn't stop smiling. She was ecstatic.
"I just can hardly believe this. What a surprise!" Alex smiled brightly at her friend, and the oppression of the Pavilion lifted for the moment. She continued, "Monique, tell, tell, tell. Are you and Jack seeing each other?" Monique didn't respond, so Alex continued to prod her. "Your non-verbals are telling on you, Dr. Desmond. Now, spit it out!"
Monique smiled and turned bright red. "It's not what you think, Alex. We're just good friends. We've had several dates. Well, I guess you would call them dates. Do people date at my age or is it called something else?"
"Of course you date. You can date when you are 90 years old. How did it happen! Oooh! This is the best thing I've heard in days. Tell me!" Alex retorted, unrestrained in her excitement.
"Shhhhh. I'll tell you downstairs. Way too many ears up here. Let's get the elevator." Monique hushed her as she eyed one of the psych techs staring at them.
As the unwieldy elevator labored up to the second floor and then down towards the lobby, the two women chatted excitedly. Taking a seat on a drab, grey bench located in the lobby of the Pavilion, Monique reached for her purse as her iPhone beeped a text message signal. She checked the text message and said, "It's him. He's gonna be late. I'm going to call him back and see when he thinks he can get here. I'm just going to step over here so I can hear a bit better." Monique walked away from the bench and stood near a large potted plant in the corner of the lobby.
As she examined Monique from the bench, Alex was mesmerized by her changing body language. Monique's erect posture relaxed, her speech became less calm and controlled, and she looked 10 years younger. Alex could have sworn she heard her giggle. Even her dark hair, pulled up into its everyday chignon, seemed to gleam brighter in the small stream of sunlight that broke through into the otherwise drab, grey lobby.
Alex was overjoyed. Wow, this is unbelievable. I'm loving it. She loves him. I am so happy for her. But, for just an instant, Alex felt a pang of jealousy. She reprimanded herself, bristling with self-anger at her jealously. She wished she had someone she could fall in love with, someone she could care for. She hadn't had a date since … well, since February, when her love life had once again ended tragically. She and Robert saw each other frequently for dinner, but that relationship was questionable and uncertain at best. It seemed unlikely that Alex and Dr. Robert Bonnet could rebuild their relationship. After all, they had been married for almost 5 years. She worked hard at keeping her depression at bay, refusing to let it overtake and engulf her.
Her thoughts returned to Robert. He had been a brilliant surgeon. Robert lived to heal, to put people back together after major trauma. A rising star at CCMC and in the medical community at large, Robert was a luminary to the local citizens of NOLA. But in Robert's mind he was a crippled surgeon and was totally useless. He suffered bouts of depression over his arm injury and potentially lost surgical career. When Alex had reminded him that all physicians were healers and that he could heal people medically, as well as surgically, Robert had become angry with her and shut her out. As a result, he was often depressed and moribund. She didn't know it, but Robert was seeing Monique professionally in an effort to rebuild his personal and professional life.
Robert had been the one who wanted the divorce, not her. She doubted she would ever recover from that rejection. It had destroyed her for a long time. Besides, it had been years since they had been together. They could be good friends now, but lovers …? Well, who knows, but she certainly doubted the possibility. Anyway, after the spring, Alex had decided to shut herself away from romance for a while.
She was jerked back into reality from her musings when Monique rejoined her on the bench. Monique was positively effervescent after her call to Jack, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, and her spirit lifted.
"Jack wants us to meet him at the Palace Café. He wants to celebrate that someone knows about us. He's naturally pleased that it’s you. We were gonna tell you and Robert this weekend, but now that you know about us, can we go celebrate? Can you go? Should we call Robert and invite him for dinner?"
Alex hugged Monique again. "It's your call, Monique. It's your party. I'm up for anything, as long as it involves fun. We deserve some after today!"
"Yes," Monique agreed. "For sure. Today was a bomb. I think I will. Do you know Robert's number off-hand? Never mind, it's in my cell. Where's my brain?"
Monique saw Alex's hesitation and asked, "It is okay with you if Robert comes, isn't it?" Monique returned to her doctor mode and tried to detect Alex's emotions.
"Of course it is, you crazy fool! Call him." Alex watched happily while Monique fished her smart phone out of her purse and walked toward the window to call Robert. She could tell that Monique was leaving a message on his cell. Monique was breathless when she returned.
"I left a message. Can't get to his phone, I guess. I didn't tell him anything. I just asked him to join us. When we get to the Palace, we'll call and text him again. I'm so excited about sharing our secret. We're in the open! No more clandestine relationship. It feels so good. Come on."
Alex giggled to herself about Monique's being in the open remark. "Really, Monique, it's not like you and Jack have come out of the closet!" Monique laughed as they walked towards the parking garage. Alex noticed how dark it was already though it was only 7:00 in the evening. The trees, together with the moss that hung from them, blocked out any remaining daylight. Angie must have been so scared when she walked alone in the early hours last night. As the two women approached the crime scene, Monique squeezed her hand.
After they passed, Monique continued to chatter gaily. "You know, Alex, Jack and I have known each other for years. In fact, we lived in the same neighborhood. Of course, he's older, but we even dated a few times in college, when he was at Tulane and I was in pre-med at LSU. We were never really serious, but we really liked each other."
"Really! No, I didn't know that. What happened?"
"Nothing, really." Monique looked pensive. "I think we just eventually drifted apart. There was no precip
itating event, no argument or anything. I was in medical school. Jack went into the service, came home from the wars, and became a rookie with the NOPD. Later, of course, you know that I married -- a disastrous affair." Monique noted Alex's raised eyebrows at this piece of information.
"I never knew you'd been married, Monique. What happened? How long did it last?" Alex was curious.
"Oh, seven years. Seven very long years. I, for one, am a big believer in the theoretical seven-year itch. My husband was a stockbroker. He left me high and dry about 10 years ago for a very voluptuous blonde and a career on Wall Street. I call it the chick du jour experience, better known to my close friends and family as Tartlett. So much for forever after." Monique looked disgusted when she described her ex-husband and his affair.
"Great day! That was pretty awful. How tacky! Did it take you a long time to get over it? I'm being snoopy, I know. You don't have to answer if it makes you feel uncomfortable."
Monique looked thoughtful. "To be honest, I'm not sure I'll ever get over it! It felt like I'd been stabbed with a knife. It took a long time for the intense pain of betrayal to go away, but it finally did. The thing that remains is the sense of a loss of trust. I really trusted Jeff. I never would've expected him to do that. I thought we had the perfect, professional yuppie marriage -- minus the kids, of course." Monique was quiet for a moment. "I guess it sort of makes me afraid to love someone else, to make that kind of commitment. But, I do love having someone in my life to share things with."
Alex was nodding her head continually as Monique was speaking. "Yes, I certainly understand that … perfectly. I felt the same way with Robert. I knew we were growing apart, but I never thought he'd want to divorce me. I was devastated."
"I'm sure you were. I think Robert knows now he made a terrible mistake." Monique gave Alex a knowing look out of the corner of her eye.