Alex decided she wouldn't be ruffled or perturbed by the administrator. She said clearly, with no room for argument, "Thank you, Mr. Whitset. I'll travel with Officer Bennett." She was straining to see the police officer's badge in the darkness. "The commander was kind enough to send me a ride, so I'll honor his kindness by accepting it. I'll see you later." Alex's voice was formal and remote. She locked the door and brushed by Whitset to walk with the uniformed policeman to his car. Usually, Alex was friendlier and not so curt, but Lester Whitset made her blood run cold.
"Are you all right, ma'am?" The policeman asked officiously. "That man didn't bother you, did he?"
"No, Officer Bennett. I just didn't expect him to come to my house at 3 o'clock in the morning. I didn't like seeing him here…." Her voice trailed off.
"It does seem a bit unusual that he took it upon himself to pick you up. I'm glad I pulled up behind him. The commander would skin me alive if I returned without you," the officer admitted.
Me, too, Alex thought. She smiled at the young policeman and inquired, "Do you know what's happened over at CCMC? The commander just called me and told me to come at once and that he was sending you to pick me up. Other than that, I'm clueless."
Officer Bennett stared at Alex's huge blue eyes, wide with anxiety. "I don't know, ma'am. I was the closest unit to your house and I haven't been over to CCMC yet. I guess there's been some kind of accident. They’re sending for the crime team again. I heard it on the radio."
Alex's heart sank. Her intuition told her it was patient related violence. She hoped in her heart that none of the staff or patients were injured badly. She had to do something about the staffing and security in the Pavilion. Don Montgomery, idiot that he was, would just have to listen to her.
As the bright lights of CCMC became visible in the darkness of the night, Alex quickly noted that the area around the Pavilion was blazing with activity. The blue and red sirens made her dizzy. When Officer Bennett dropped Alex off at the door, there were at least six NOPD cars and a dozen or so other cars parked in the circular drive in front of the main entrance. Alex saw Monique's Volvo in the group. She also noticed Don Montgomery's shiny, gold Porsche. Just seeing the CEO’s car convinced Alex that it was going to be a night, or morning, from hell.
The heavy Pavilion doors were guarded by members of the NOPD. Alex had to show her hospital ID to enter the building. On the drab grey bench, where Monique and Alex had talked just a few hours earlier, sat a handsome, well-dressed, middle-aged couple. The wife was trying to comfort her husband, a distinguished white-haired gentleman. The man was red-eyed, obviously upset. The couple looked at Alex curiously.
Alex wondered who they were and how they'd gotten past the police. She smiled at them as she waited for the elevator. They didn't give her a response. She guessed she'd know their identity soon enough. As she stood in the lobby, she was keenly aware that the couple was staring at her. She wanted to speak and offer some comfort, but decided against it. Instead, she smiled at them and nodded.
A police officer was operating the elevator. He also asked for her ID and then pushed the button for the second floor. The Unit was locked, but Alex was quickly admitted by a pale-faced psych tech.
Whitset came in within seconds of Alex. He touched her shoulder as he passed by her on the way to his office and said, "Have a pleasant ride, Alex? Sorry if I frightened you earlier." He gave her a smirking smile and disappeared.
Alex ignored him and looked around for Françoise and Monique.
The psych unit was electric with activity. There were three staff members talking with police in the nurse's station and Alex noticed several patients sitting in the day room. Two were catatonic and sat rigidly staring, without blinking, at the television set mounted high on the wall. One patient's body posture was grotesque. He was wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts. His legs looked like spaghetti noodles, wrapped around each other in a grotesquely contorted fashion. His arms were bent at the elbows and perpendicular to each other. His hands were fixed in a position that suggested he had just finished strangling somebody. His fingers were spaced apart and curved, just as though they would fit around someone's neck. His nails were long and untrimmed. Alex cringed at the contorted patient. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth and his eyes were bulging. He looked as though he had just finished killing his victim. He was even drooling. Her total body shuddered in disgust.
This place was horrible, she thought, as she continued to look around. Another patient was pacing frantically around the room, never slowing his pace. His face was so devoid of expression that it looked like a mask. His continual motion made Alex dizzy.
The third patient was restrained in a chair, clearly hallucinating. He was speaking directly to President Obama and God, asking them to have Michelle fix things. Alex watched him briefly as President Obama apparently answered him. She shook her head at the disorganized, incoherent thinking of the man. Suddenly, he burst into loud, silly laughter that had a surrealistic tone to it. How could Monique do this every day?
Alex again scanned the day room. Over in a corner, looking most uncomfortable, was a young New Orleans policeman named Josh Martin, whom she recognized as a protégé of Jack Françoise. Alex motioned and caught his eye. He finally saw her and waved.
Josh Martin was an attractive young man. He wore his uniform to perfection and approached Alex with crinkly eyes and a wide smile that stretched over a generous mouth.
"Ms. Destephano. I'm glad to see you. This place is incredible!" Josh scratched his head and looked around wildly. "Look at these people! I'm supposed to be guarding them!" He rolled his eyes and continued, “To tell the truth, I'd rather be in a shootout or chasing a burglar than sitting in here. In fact, I'd rather be losing the shootout!" Josh gave a short laugh, looking around nervously.
Alex smiled at the young man. "Yeah, they're pretty unique, aren't they?" Then Alex changed the subject and anxiously asked, "Josh, what's going on? Where's the commander and Dr. Desmonde?"
Josh gestured towards the North Hall and said, "They're down there. The bigwigs are meeting in the community room. Go on down. It's pretty safe. Most of the patients are either asleep, doped up, or in seclusion."
"Thanks, Josh. You okay here?"
Josh looked uncertain. "Yeah, I guess so … but what do I do if they go off? The commander told me I couldn't shoot them! Heck, he even threatened to take my gun away from me, just in case I was tempted."
Alex laughed. "They look pretty controlled at this point. Keep your eye on the pacer, though. He could be a problem."
Josh grimaced, wavered, and returned to his chair, continuing to watch the eerie threesome he was supposed to be guarding.
"Josh," Alex hissed at him, "Move your chair closer to the door. You never put yourself in a corner with a psychotic patient close by. You'll want to get out if the going gets rough. Don't let them block you in, ever."
"Yeah. Good idea. Thanks, Ms. Destephano." Josh couldn't move his chair quickly enough to get himself closer to the double doors of the day room.
Alex walked down the hall towards the community room, her heart again thudding in her chest. She knocked on the door and a grim-faced Don Montgomery admitted her.
Don's greeting was tinged with scorn. "It's about time. Where in the hell have you been? I can never find you when I need you. When I don't need or want to see you, you're hanging around my office!" Montgomery's normally grating voice had a caustic edge to it.
Alex ignored him. Sweeping feelings of déjà vu encompassed her. This is just like before, she thought. Just like February, right before Mardi Gras. Even the players were the same, she thought to herself as she looked at the group assembled around the table. Monique was sitting next to Jack, her face tear-streaked and pale.
Jack was fighting strong emotions not to overly comfort Monique, while working hard not to beat the hell out of the pompous CEO as he railed out at Alex.
Jack looked like hell. It was clear he hadn't been home at
all. He must have come here straight from the murder in the Quarter. A nurse was also present. Alex assumed it was the night shift charge nurse. Missing were Dr. John Ashley, the chief of medicine who was out of town, and Bette Farve. The other person in the room was Whitset, who waved and smiled benignly at Alex, greeting her as if she was his best friend. Monique hardly seemed to notice Alex’s entrance.
"What's happened?" Alex's voice was cool, but she was seething with anger at Don Montgomery’s disrespect.
Montgomery's voice was loud and testy. "We have a dead patient – a dead, whacko patient – that's what happened!" He looked around impatiently and continued, "A dead crazy, right here at CCMC. I just love it." Montgomery's voice dripped sarcasm as he peevishly added, "Where's Elizabeth? We've got to cover our asses on this one with the media. Where is she, Alex?" Don demanded, his face red with anger.
Alex shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know where Elizabeth is. I would imagine home in bed unless someone has called her. Did anyone call?" Alex looked around the room.
Everyone gestured in the negative. No one spoke.
Don's harsh voice broke in again. "Desmonde, you're the medical person here. Call Tippett and get her in here. Now! I can't expect anything from you physicians." Don glared at the psychiatrist.
Alex could feel Monique's fury and she saw the telltale blush of anger climbing her bruised and battered body.
After several moments, Monique stood, stared at Don, recovered herself, and said clearly, "Mr. Montgomery, I'll be happy to call Elizabeth Tippet. Generally, the unit administrator, who in this case would be Mr. Whitset, calls. But I gather that hasn't happened, so—”
Whitset jumped to his feet, his eyes flashing, and harshly interrupting Monique, said, "How dare you single me out in front of a group for a responsibility I never knew I had. I will get you for this—”
Monique didn't let him finish, "Don't threaten me, Mr. Whitset. We'll talk about this later." Then she turned to face Don, leaned over so she was inches from his face, and said, "As I was saying before Mr. Whitset interrupted me, I will call Elizabeth, but I won't respond to any more of your callous behavior or profanity. Is that clear to you?" Monique's voice was calm and cool and her intent was clear. She had regained her professional demeanor.
Alex telepathically cheered her on. That's my girl, she thought. Go Monique.
Alex noticed the ruthless look Whitset gave Monique and it sent shivers up her spine. The look was downright evil and Whitset had even bared his teeth. He was furious at her and Alex was afraid he would physically hurt her or sabotage her. She had to remind Monique to be careful and watch out. She turned to Jack and immediately knew that Jack had seen the look as well. His face revealed his anger and he looked like he wanted to strangle the administrator.
"Just get Tippet in here," Don roared. He glowered at Dr. Desmonde again and said, "I run this damned place, such as it is. I'll say whatever I want to, when I want to!" Montgomery pointed his finger in Monique's face and said, "Don't try to bully me, Desmonde, with your calculated, psychiatric bullshit. If you knew how to run a psychiatric service, we wouldn't have patients murdering each other."
Alex's heart was racing frantically, skipping beats. She felt hot all over. Murder! So that's what happened. It wasn’t just a dead patient, but one that had been murdered. On the psych unit at CCMC? Murder involving patients? Oh My God! Oh, no! This was worse than she'd expected. Her legal mind was boggled with the thoughts of it, not to mention the repercussions. A million thoughts were racing through her head all at once.
Monique continued standing, undeterred by Don's anger, ranting, and rudeness. She stated again, her voice firm, "Mr. Montgomery, I'll call Elizabeth, but I want you to guarantee that you will conduct yourself in an acceptable manner and cut the vulgarity and innuendos."
Don nodded his head and threw up his hands. "Just do it, Dr. Desmonde!" His voice was scathing and his emphasis on the word doctor was derogatory.
Monique left the room to call Elizabeth Tippet, the young woman in charge of media relations at CCMC.
Alex looked frantically at Jack Françoise. "What happened, Jack? Who was killed?"
Françoise was positively grey with fatigue. He looked at Alex and spoke softly. "An elderly patient, Mrs. Smithson, was found dead in her room about an hour and a half ago. She had been stabbed repeatedly. She’d only been dead for a short period of time. Her body was still warm."
Alex’s stomach lurched forward and she thought she would be sick on the large walnut conference table. She immediately remembered Mrs. Smithson from the day before. She was the little, white-haired lady who had been admitted with depression. Just yesterday, Alex had questioned Monique and Donna about the clinical judgment of placing an elderly, depressed woman on a unit with so many violent patients.
Her voice was hushed. She could hardly form her words. "Oh God, not Mrs. Smithson. That little, white-haired lady who was knitting yesterday in the community room? The one who looks like Mrs. Santa Claus? The little lady with the apple-red cheeks?"
Whitset was clearly loving Alex's reaction. His smile was inappropriate. He couldn't wait to respond. His voice was remarkably clear and sounded gleeful, "Yes, Alex dear, that's her. But she doesn't have apple cheeks anymore and the knitting needle is now stuck in her mouth.
Alex was stunned, her jaw dropped in shock.
Even Don looked surprised at the sound of Whitset's voice, but his surprise was short lived. To deflect attention from his administrator, Don moved closer to Alex, his face leering into hers. "Looked like Mrs. Santa Claus. You've got it, Alex," he said sarcastically. "Mrs. Santa Claus has been murdered at Crescent City Medical Center by her next-door neighbor, Mr. McMurdie, our inpatient member of the New Orleans Police Department on the wacko unit. Right, Commander Françoise?" Don Montgomery turned his sarcasm on Jack and glared at him.
Alex could see Jack struggle for control. Jack despised Montgomery, who he had disliked before the mayoral election. Now he had two sworn enemies.
The CEO continued, "One of your protégés wasn't he, Captain Françoise? NOPD’s finest. Great work!" Montgomery spit his words at the police commander.
"It's Commander Françoise now," Monique said automatically. “He is the highest ranking officer in this police district.”
"Well, whoop-de-do! Everyone knows the New Orleans police are all crooked, incompetent, or on the take," Don snarled, staring at Jack.
Alex placed her hand on Jack's arm as if to restrain him from knocking Montgomery senseless, a dream the commander had coveted for months. The blood was bad between the CEO and the police commander – very bad, in fact. Alex knew that the meeting could easily erupt into a free-for-all between the two men and that the commander would lose, not physically, but most assuredly politically. She also knew Don would be a bloody mess. There was nothing Don would like more than to get Françoise fired, or at least, reprimanded. Jack's judgment returned with a touch of Alex's hand. He sat down. Alex noted with some relief that Monique had returned to the room, her composure intact.
Françoise settled down and looked at Alex. His tone was grave. "It looks, at least from the preliminaries, that McMurdie is guilty. He was covered with Mrs. Smithson's blood."
Alex fought another visceral response and thought about how she could possibly keep herself from throwing up. It had been hours since she had eaten. "Who found Mrs. Smithson?" Alex questioned.
"I did," responded the nurse at the conference table.
Alex turned to look again at the nurse. She looked familiar, but Alex couldn't quite place her. She thought for several moments and then remembered her from the evening before. She was a nurse from an agency, who had been working evenings … the nurse who had admitted to Alex that she had no psychiatric nursing experience. This is just great, Alex thought to herself. A jury will love this. We’re fish bait on this one. This really sucks.
Alex spoke to the nurse. "Didn't we talk earlier? Weren't you on the evening shift? Sorry, I can'
t remember your name."
"I'm JoAnne Waters. Yes, we did talk and I was on evenings. The agency couldn't find anyone else to send for nights, so I volunteered. I guess the word's out around town about the nurse that was attacked and raped. Anyway, I agreed to stay over, you know, do a double. I didn't know I'd signed up for murder."
Alex noticed that Joanne was super pale and had tears in her eyes. "You were the one who found Mrs. Smithson?" Alex asked.
"Yes, I found her when I was making rounds at 2:00 a.m. She was dead. I immediately called security and they called the other people who are here. Mr. Whitset was already here, in his office, and came out when I was making the phone calls."
Whitset was here. What the hell was Whitset doing here on the night shift? "Did something happen on your shift that could’ve caused something like this to happen?" Alex looked speculatively at the tearful, frightened RN.
Joanne answered in a quavering voice, "No. Nothing. The evening was quiet. The patients were doing well. There was no trouble at all." At that point JoAnne turned to look at Lester and said, "Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Whitset? You were here until after midnight."
Whitset gave the nurse a sly smile. "Yes, it was quiet. I agree. I left shortly after midnight to grab a coffee and returned to my office to do some work." He looked around the group as if to be sure that everyone heard him.
"Anyway," Joanne continued, "On the night shift, shortly after Mr. Whitset left, there was a big ruckus on the prison unit next door. They called a stat page for help and I sent my two psych techs over. Apparently, several inmates were trying to attack a third man and my techs were tied up for some time. I was alone on this unit. There was a lot of noise and screaming that I could hear from the prison unit. The noise woke up several of our patients who became alarmed and frightened. One was a new admission. I medicated him, along with two others, and told them all to go back to sleep. I guess that was what I was doing when the murder occurred … I didn't hear anything. I promise you, if I had known this had happened or heard Mrs. Smithson's bell, I would have gone there immediately. She went to bed around 9:00 and was sleeping soundly at midnight. I had no idea ...." Joanne started crying softly into a tissue, deftly handed to her by Whitset.
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