Alex pondered Joanne's remarks for a few seconds. She looked at the commander who nodded his head. Jack also believed Joanne's story. Alex turned her gaze to Whitset and asked him coldly, "Why were you here so late, Mr. Whitset?"
Lester gave Alex a placating smile. "I frequently work late, Alex. I make it a point to be on the unit at different times during the day and night so I can evaluate the quality of care the patients are receiving. It's my own system of quality management, you see. I'm a clinical and administrative manager. Besides, I love being here at night. It’s quiet and I can get so much more work done than during the daylight hours." His voice was soft and smooth, even sensuous.
Alex found herself once again mesmerized by the man’s voice.
He continued to smile at Alex the entire time he was talking. Then Whitset added, "Besides, I don't like imposters working at my hospital. I oversee all operations, clinical and administrative.”
Alex was confused. "Imposters? What do you mean, imposters?" Alex questioned.
Whitset hesitated for a second and said, "Imposters, people that pretend to care for patients, but who don't know how. People who aren't in tune with patient needs and don't understand them are imposters. Many psychiatric staff are actually imposters – they pretend to be someone they aren't.”
Alex nodded her head slowly. "Did you happen to hear or see anything that made you suspicious before you left?" Alex guessed that Jack had asked the same questions earlier. She glanced at the commander out of the corner of her eye and saw he was listening intently, his notebook open in front of him.
Whitset glared at Alex steadily, with a lewd look in his eyes. His eyes dropped to Alex's breasts and stayed there for several moments before looking back up into her face.
Alex could swear he was leering at her.
"No, not a thing, Ms. Destephano. I checked the situation on the prison unit, headed for my car, and went out for coffee." He continued to stare moodily at Alex, his eyes wandering over her body suggestively.
Alex stared back at Whitset. Her gaze wandered over his rumpled shirt and pants. It was pretty clear to her that he hadn't been to bed. Perhaps he had napped in his office because he was a mess.
Lester continued to gawk at her, his eyes wandering over her body as if trying to catch her off guard, daring her to say something that questioned his story.
Alex said softly, "Sorry you were awakened from your slumber, Lester. You must have been napping on your sofa in your office. That must be why your clothes are so wrinkled." She gave the administrator a sweet smile. "I guess we were all awakened abruptly."
"No problem, Alex. I'm a light sleeper. I'm used to rising for any occasion. Any occasion. You remember that." Whitset gave Alex an indecent look. His eyes were half closed and his mouth was open as he looked at her. A little bit of spittle had gathered at one corner of his mouth.
Alex flashed a look at Jack, who nodded his head, a nod that was imperceptible to anyone else in the room.
Montgomery was glowering at her. He said, "Alex, have you finished your inquisition? If you have, I'd like to hear more from Françoise about his buddy that murdered dear Mrs. Santa Claus." Montgomery's eyes glittered rudely at Alex and Jack.
Dr. Desmonde interrupted Don. "Mr. Montgomery, her name was Mrs. Smithson and her son and his wife are waiting for you downstairs. I suggest you learn her name before you meet with them." Monique's voice was sharp and she was clearly annoyed and irritated with him.
"I'll be damned if I'm seeing them. That's your job, Desmonde. You're the shrink and this travesty is your fault." Montgomery gave the psychiatrist an ugly look. "Are you out of your mind? I have no intention of ever seeing them or associating myself with anything that has happened or will happen over here in this insane asylum. You should have given them more pills to knock them out. Damn situations such as these. I just don't have time for this," Don added, as he slammed his fist on the conference table.
Monique was livid, but held her tongue and remained aloof.
Alex, clearly incensed, resisted an impulse to rail out at Don Montgomery. She could feel Françoise's body tense up beside her. He was so angry his body was radiating heat. She touched Jack's leg and said in a steady voice, "Really, Don, as CEO you and I both need to see the Smithsons. This is a terrible crime and we need to—”
Don interrupted her, his voice piercing her brain. "You just don't get it, do you? You don't know just how gruesome this crime is, Alex. Tell her, Captain Mighty Mouse," Montgomery said as he glanced at the New Orleans Police Commander, refusing to acknowledge his new title.
Jack overlooked Montgomery's slur and looked contemplatively at Alex. "The scene's bad, Alex. Grizzly crime – one of the worst I've seen in my time and…"
Alex remembered the violent crimes earlier in the year. Nothing, nothing could be worse than those crime scenes. Nor could anything be worse than what had happened to Angela the night before … could it? Alex was uncertain and asked herself these questions as she turned to Jack.
"Jack," she interrupted, "Nothing could be worse than what happened in February. Those crimes were horrible." Alex still had nightmares about them, even six months later.
Jack sighed audibly. "This is a little different. It's different in another way." He paused for a moment as he saw Elizabeth Tippett enter the room.
The lovely, dark-haired Elizabeth looked strained. Dressed casually in jeans and a white shirt, Liz had opted to get to CCMC quickly. She looked stunning for 4:30 a.m., prepared to take command of the media fracas certain to erupt shortly. Apparently, she'd heard there had been a murder. She sat down opposite Don and Monique.
"Thanks for coming Elizabeth." Alex smiled hesitantly at her friend. Elizabeth's job as the director of media relations for the hospital was difficult, especially for a young woman who had only two years before received her Master’s degree in Communications. Elizabeth had earned her stripes via a baptism by fire earlier in the year, when the press had swooped down on CCMC like vultures, making mincemeat of the place and broadcasting the medical center's dirty laundry to the entire world. Elizabeth had stood her ground and represented the hospital well during those difficult times. As a result, she'd forged an excellent media network, which now worked to the hospital's advantage. She’d earned respect and admiration among her colleagues. She was incredibly well respected.
Alex continued, "We've had some trouble here, Liz. Apparently, one of the patients attacked and murdered another patient and Jack was—”
Liz gestured to Alex to stop. "I know, Alex. The policeman outside told me. Do you have any details?" Elizabeth looked around the group and immediately extended her hand and introduced herself to Whitset and Joanne Waters, the two people she didn't know at the table. Joanne murmured a greeting to the media director.
Whitset spoke, "Miss Tippett, I assume it's 'Miss'?"
Whitset drew out the 's' in ‘Miss’ until Alex wanted to throttle him.
Elizabeth nodded, but said nothing.
Whitset continued, "I am so delighted to meet you. I'm in charge of the Pavilion and very happy to be meeting all of you from the 'other side' of the medical center, particularly those of you who are beautiful." Once again, Alex felt mesmerized by the sound of his voice. It was melodious and comforting to her ears. His voice was directly opposed to his appearance, which Alex found repulsive.
If Elizabeth was surprised or appalled, she didn't show it. She gave a half smile and turned to Alex. She was all business and Alex loved it.
Whitset looked annoyed that she hadn't responded to his compliment. His eyebrows were arched in disapproval.
"Commander Françoise was just about to fill us in when you arrived. Would you continue, Commander?" Alex asked.
Commander Françoise gave Elizabeth a quick smile. He'd become friends with her earlier in the year. The commander was well acquainted with the administrative players at CCMC. He knew their strengths and weaknesses. Most of them he didn't respect at all. As a matter of fact, he detested them.
"Hi, Liz. It looks like one of the patients attacked and murdered an elderly woman, Mrs. Smithson, sometime after midnight. The crime scene's a bloody mess."
Elizabeth nodded. "I understand the patient was stabbed. Is that correct?" She looked around the table and was surprised to find Whitset smiling as Jack described the situation.
"Yeah, you're right. But this ain't no ordinary stabbing. Mrs. Smithson was stabbed repeatedly with a long, thin, instrument. Probably at least seventeen times, as best we can determine."
Don interrupted rudely. "It was her knitting needle, you idiot. Couldn't you tell?"
The commander gave the CEO a dark, murderous look, said nothing, and then continued, "The murder weapon has not been confirmed yet, at least not officially."
Jack glanced at Elizabeth and Alex staring at him. Both women were speechless. Joanne looked at her hands, and Monique was staring at an imaginary spot on the wall. All seemed to be trying to disassociate themselves from what the commander was about to say.
Alex looked out of the corner of her eye.
Whitset was gazing intently at Françoise. Whitset's countenance was reverent, almost holy. He looked excited, practically orgasmic, as Jack uttered the next few words.
"Mrs. Smithson was stabbed at least seventeen times with what appears to be her blue knitting needle. She was stabbed repeatedly in the eyes, ears, and the nose and mouth areas. I'm sure the medical examiner will tell us that she died as a result of the murder weapon piercing her brain. It's as if the murderer wanted to totally disfigure her – to wipe out her face." After a pause lasting a few seconds, Jack added, "He did."
Alex felt the bile rising into her mouth. She was hot, so hot … and flushed all over. She felt ill again. She was afraid this time she'd be sick on the conference table for sure.
Jack reached towards her, thinking she would faint.
Elizabeth left the room, apparently to compose herself.
They could hear retching in the restroom down the hall.
Monique looked unwell, her pale face covered with a sheen of perspiration.
The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, each person caught up in their own thoughts about the brutal murder.
Alex prayed for composure and felt it gradually returning. Thank God, she thought.
Whitset looked pleased. Everyone else seemed in shock.
After several moments, Alex managed to ask, "Did Mrs. Smithson try to fight back? Did she cry for help?" She felt tears in her eyes rise as she imagined the horrible death the little, apple-cheeked lady had endured.
Jack looked steadily at Alex. "We don't know if she called for help. Most likely, she did at first. The M.E. will have to determine precisely what happened. Remember, only Joanne was on the unit. The psych techs were next door."
Alex thought Jack was being evasive. She asked again, "Did she fight back?" For some reason, this was important to Alex. She didn't know why, but she needed to know if Mrs. Smithson had an opportunity to fight for her life.
Françoise held Alex's eyes to his and said, "No, Alex. She didn't appear to fight back. She couldn't. Her hands were tied to the bed. She had on wrist restraints. As a matter of fact, she had on four-point restraints. Her hands and her feet were tied down." Jack's voice sounded dead and weary as he told her.
"But why? Why?" Alex demanded loudly. Her voice was shrill, almost a screech. "She didn't look like a patient who needed to be restrained. Side rails, a Posey vest, maybe … but four-point restraints!" She looked wildly at Monique. "Why, Monique, would you order four-point restraints for a harmless, little, old lady."
Dr. Desmonde said softly, "We didn't tie her down, Alex. Her killer did."
Alex was so devastated by the insanity of the crime she could scarcely think. Her body felt weak, exhausted, and immovable. She felt faint. A look of dread crossed her face as her mind clicked through questions to ask. She was afraid to ask the question. She looked at the people around her. Monique and Jack were gazing steadily at her. Montgomery and Joanne were preoccupied with their own thoughts. Whitset was staring at her as well, his eyes unreadable. His cold eyes bore into her face. His mouth was curled upward in an eager, expectant smile. Her stomach again turned as she looked at him.
Alex continued to gather the strength to ask the next question. Her hands were pressed on the top of the conference table, the tips of her fingers bloodless due to the pressure she exerted against the table. She looked directly at Dr. Desmonde and Commander Françoise.
Her voice was low, breathless. It came in small, short gasps. "Was she … Mrs. Smithson …" Alex couldn't say the words.
Monique looked in Alex's startled blue eyes with her clear gaze. She knew what Alex was trying to say and she replied, "Yes, Alex. We believe Mrs. Smithson was sexually assaulted, that she was raped and beaten. It's horrible, atrocious, and horrendous." Monique's voice broke and her eyes filled with tears.
The room was still, very still. Everyone was gaping at Alex. She finally looked around and said to Commander Françoise, "Jack, could you leave the crime scene undisturbed? I'd like to take a look at it in a little while. First, I need to do a little thinking."
"Sure, Alex. Sure. The CSI team is in there now. We've got some time. Ain't nobody going to touch nothing in there. Forensics arrived and will be in there for hours. Biggest problem we got, as I see it, is dealing with Mr. and Mrs. Smithson and figuring out who did this. He insists on seeing his mother's body. Nothing good is gonna come out of that." Françoise shook his head in anticipation of the event.
"I certainly wouldn't recommend that, would you?" This statement came from Whitset. The group stared at him. His voice was high and he was laughing. "You can't even see her face – it's gone! He probably wouldn't even know that it is his mother. But, on second thought, perhaps it will help him deal with his loss." He looked around the group, gauging their response.
Monique and Alex glanced at each other, sharing a look that communicated their disgust with the man, as well as their questions about his inappropriate behavior.
Monique looked at him curiously. "No, Mr. Whitset. We'll discourage the Smithsons from seeing their mother. As a matter of fact, Ms. Destephano and I, hope Mr. Montgomery will see them shortly.”
Whitset interrupted Monique and said, "I'll be glad to see the family. After all, I am the administrator for psychiatric services here at Crescent City. Besides, Don, you don't need to be involved with this, particularly since you aren’t comfortable. Right?" Whitset gave Don an old boy, placating look and patted him on the back.
Montgomery gave a broad smile. "Hell, no. You go, Lester. I hate this kind of stuff. Makes me look bad. This one's going to hurt, too. Where the hell is Elizabeth? Hasn't she had enough time to puke her guts out?" Don glared angrily towards the door.
Alex spoke, "I'll bring Elizabeth up to date. We'll figure out a media strategy and pass it by you." Her voice was cold, and she stared at Don, disgusted again at his inability to deal with unpleasant situations. Of course, he was always available to claim the praise for everyone else's achievements and awards. What a bastard. She was finding it harder and harder to tolerate him.
"Okay." Don looked relieved. He looked at his watch. "I'm going home. It's only 5:00 a.m. I still have time for some shuteye. Don't bother me until noon. I'll be in sometime around then.”
Alex and Monique eyed each other with amazement as Donald Montgomery left the room. Joanne asked to be excused as well.
Jack was incensed by the chickenshit administrator's lack of interest and leadership. He uttered a string of profanities under his breath at the CEO’s behavior.
Monique stepped on his foot to shut him up.
Whitset had been watching them closely, enjoying their disillusionment with Don. He smiled at them and said in a cold, but smooth voice, "Mr. Montgomery doesn't need to be involved in this. I can handle it myself. No problem. When shall we meet with the family?" His eyes were clear and he was completely composed. He seemed eager to see th
e Smithson family and he was getting off on splitting staff between Don and his administration team. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
Alex reached across the table and offered the administrator her hand. "Later. Let's see them after lunch. Thank you, Whitset. We'll keep you posted." Alex's voice was low and throaty.
Monique and Jack met each other's eyes, questioning Alex's strategy as they rose to leave.
Whitset held on to Alex's hand just a little too long and then returned it to her, his eyes again raking her body. "I'll be waiting to hear from you, Alex," he said softly. He nodded to the others and left the room.
Alex shivered at his arctic cold touch and watched him leave.
Françoise spoke first and roared, "Let's get outta here. What the hell was that, Alex? That little pervert incites my killer instinct."
Monique nodded in agreement.
Alex didn't respond.
On their way down the hall, they ran into a pale and wan Elizabeth, who immediately started to apologize even though the three tried to wave her apologies away.
Alex said roughly, "Save it, Liz. I want to get outta here. Let's go to my office."
On the way out of the Pavilion, Françoise caught up with Josh Martin and told him to keep an eye on Ms. Tippett.
The police officer agreed and gave Elizabeth a concerned smile. He asked her, "Are you all right, Ms. Tippett?"
"Yes, thank you, Josh. It's been a little rough this morning." Elizabeth smiled brightly at the police officer.
"It's going to be a long day, Ms. Tippett. It's just a little after 5:00 a.m.," Josh said, gesturing to his watch. "Let me know if there is anything you need."
"Yes, I know. I'll make it. I've done it before." Elizabeth waved bye to Josh Martin and caught up with the others at the elevator.
Alex wondered if there was a new romance in the making. She turned to comment on this to Jack and Monique, but they were obviously tied up with each other. Once again, Alex felt loneliness engulf her.
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