Malpractice in Maggody (13 page)

“That doesn’t mean she’s not a brat,” said Brenda. “I have her on a free-form amino acid complex, L-cysteine, three thousand milligrams of glutathione to reduce the cravings, pantothenic acid for detox, gamma-aminobutyric acid to prevent anxiety, alfalfa, burdock root, dandelion root and milk thistle extract, and valerian root at bedtime. She’s lost six pounds this week.”

“She’ll work out for a while,” said Walter, “but then she insists on soaking in the hot tub. This morning she…uh, tried to get personal. She kept rubbing her breasts against me and making suggestions about what we could do in the sauna. I didn’t know what to do.”

Randall shrugged. “You can’t bluntly reject her. She’s already stressed about being here. As she entered adolescence, she realized that she was no longer considered darling and adorable. She’s very conflicted.”

“So I’m supposed to screw her in the sauna to boost her self-esteem?”

“No, none of that,” Vincent said, clearly alarmed. “No one on the staff should have anything more than a strictly professional relationship with the patients.” He paused to think. “Walter, arrange for a maid or orderly to be in the exercise room whenever Dawn is there. I’ll make a point of stopping by to encourage Dawn in her efforts. That should suffice.”

Walter gave him a limp salute. “Yes, sir.”

Vincent glared at him, then said, “Are there any other issues to be discussed? Any complaints about the maids and orderlies? No? Well, then, I’ll see all of you in the morning.” He picked up the champagne bottle and left.

Molly stood up. “I guess I’ll run along home. Y’all have a nice night.”

Walter winked at Randall, then followed Molly out of the room.

“Why did you hire him?” Randall demanded, his lip curled. “He smokes pot every night in his room; I can smell it next door. He probably does other drugs, too.”

Brenda carefully closed the files and made a neat pile of them. “I owed him a favor. Besides, he’s very good at what he does. I know I couldn’t persuade Dibbins to lift a pinkie, much less do any exercises.”

“What’s his background?” Randall persisted. “Is he really a licensed physical trainer? Where was he certified?”

“You’ll have to read his résumé. I’m sure Miss Foss will be happy to find it for you. She seems to be an obliging young woman with a heart of gold. It’s unfortunate that her office skills are less glittery. I told Vincent months ago that I knew someone who could fill the position, but he hired her without consulting me. I suppose she must have done something to impress him, although not behind a desk. Under it is more likely.”

“You’re not implying they’ve had sex, are you? She’s married, for pity’s sake.”

“Your naïveté underwhelms me, Randall.” Brenda gathered up the files and went to the door. “I’ll be in my office should you care to discuss this further. Good night.”

Randall remained in the room for a long while, thinking about what Brenda had said. She was plainly jealous of Molly’s attractiveness and innocent charm. Randall was certainly not oblivious to them. Molly deserved to be admired, and even cherished. The idea of Brenda belittling her made Randall very, very angry.

He was not the only inhabitant of the Stonebridge Foundation who was harboring dark thoughts that night.

When the phone rang on Friday morning, I stared at it as if it were a coiled rattlesnake. It could have been Ruby Bee, demanding that I hustle over to the bar & grill so she could lecture me about my failings as a daughter, a police officer, or a potential breeder whose biological clock was beginning to hiccup. Or Jack, calling to say that we’d have to cancel our plans for the weekend, or even Mrs. Jim Bob, squawking about speeders in front of her house or kids playing in the creek at the back of her yard. Or Sheriff Harvey Dorfer, with some icky assignment that none of his deputies would touch with a twenty-foot pole.

I finally picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”

Alas, it was Harve, perpetual purveyor of ill tidings. “I reckon we got us a problem, Arly,” he began genially.

“What do you mean ‘we,’ kemo sabe?”

“You gettin’ your jokes out of old issues of
Reader’s Digest
? This is serious stuff. A woman was killed last night out at that Stonebridge place.”

“That’s a damn shame, Harve,” I said, “but it’s not my jurisdiction. I hope this won’t spoil your weekend.”

“It ain’t gonna spoil
my
weekend. Do you want to do this over the telephone, or here in my office? The coffee’s worse than pond water, but the doughnuts are fresh—or at least they were on Wednesday.”

I put my feet on the corner of my desk, rocked back, and in a less than amiable voice said, “What happened?”

“Hard to say. We got a call shortly after four this morning. The night guard, a Mexican fellow, found the woman’s body on the grounds—in a fountain, to be precise. McBeen said it looked like she drowned, but won’t swear to it until he does a preliminary autopsy. He also said there weren’t any obvious signs she’d been sexually assaulted. Dr. Stonebridge was more agitated than a rabid ’coon, said we couldn’t disturb the patients or question anybody until this morning. I couldn’t see much point in it, either, so I left a couple of deputies to keep the scene secured. Now I’ve got a fistful of messages from the head of the county commission to keep this out of the media until we figure out what-all happened. Seems he has connections with everybody from the district prosecutor to the state attorney general. There’s a lot of money in play. Pity none of it’s coming my way. I’m thinking it’d be nice to buy a little cabin on one of the lakes for when I retire.”

“Anytime soon?” I asked optimistically.

“Don’t start planning to redecorate my office, missy. Raz Buchanon would get more votes than a girl in khaki britches, especially one who used to live in New York City. You want to wager on your chances or hear about this case?”

“Was the victim one of the patients?”

“I wish it was that easy.” Harve paused long enough to light a cigar, then went on. “A young gal from Starley City, name of Molly Foss. She was the receptionist. We notified her husband this morning. As soon as he identified the body at the morgue, he was all set to go out there with a shotgun. We talked him out it for the time being. That ain’t to say he’s gonna sit home with a hankie, at least not for long.”

“I don’t suppose she committed suicide,” I said.

“It’s darn near impossible to drown yourself in four inches of water. McBeen said there was some bruising on the back of her neck. Most likely she was held down.”

I had a foreboding about my weekend plans with Jack. His children were leaving that afternoon for a church trip to a theme park, and wouldn’t be home until Sunday. We’d already agreed on the menu, rental movies, CDs, and wine list. Scrabble was definitely on the schedule. “It’s not my jurisdiction,” I repeated (or bleated, to be more accurate). “I hope Mrs. Dorfer’s not too disappointed when you can’t take her to the arts and crafts fair in Mount Ida.”

Harve harrumphed. “She’s going with her sister. I’m going fishing with my brother-in-law. Afterward, we’re going to grill T-bone steaks and watch baseball. You, on the other hand, are going to look into this. If we don’t figure it out by Monday morning, the county commissioner is gonna serve my balls on a platter at the next meeting. I hear the patients out there are crazier than loons. It may not take you more than a hour or two to get a confession.”

“I have an hour or two, Harve, but ’long about three o’clock this afternoon, I’m putting away my badge and heading for the state line.”

“Then it’s settled. Dr. Stonebridge doesn’t want his patients and staff to get all upset, so wear civilian clothes. Les will be there in about ten minutes to drive you over. Go through the main gate and around to a parking lot in the back. The doctor’s waiting for you there.”

“Ten minutes? Sounds as though you’ve got this all figured out, you conniving bastard. What were you going to do if I was over in Belle Star, stalking lowly fish-nappers?”

“I would have tracked you down, sooner or later.”

He hung up before I could respond. I replaced the receiver, took off my badge and tossed it into a drawer, and went into the back room to unplug the coffeemaker. At least I’d find out what was going on inside the Stonebridge Foundation, I thought as I headed outside to wait for Les. And I had every intention of keeping my date in Springfield, even if it meant the victim had to spend a few extra days in the morgue.

When Les arrived, I got into his car and said, “Tell me what you know.”

He shrugged. “Not much. Sheriff Dorfer called me at four-fifteen and told me to pick him up at his house. I don’t think he was real happy about being dragged out of bed, but neither was I. When we got to the place, a guard was waiting at the gate. We followed him around to the back, where there’s a big garden with benches and paths and that kind of shit. Some guy named Stonebridge was waiting for us.”

“Anybody else?”

“A woman, kinda bulky and with a scowl that could turn a freight train up a dirt road. Stonebridge was skittery, but she was cool, considering there was a dead body lying on the grass. McBeen and his boys showed up, made the official call, and had the body removed. Woman, early twenties, blond, not more than five-four, hundred and twenty pounds max, big boobs, probably a cheerleader in high school. You know the kind.”

“I wasn’t a cheerleader,” I said.

“Neither was I,” Les said with a smirk. “Anyway, I mostly stood around while the sheriff, Stonebridge, and the woman conferred out of earshot. Eventually they came to some kind of agreement, and Sheriff Dorfer told me and Palsy to stay there the rest of the night. He called me on my cell a few minutes ago and told me to come pick you up. That’s about it.”

“So the body had been pulled out of the fountain before you got there?” I asked. “Was anybody else around? Lights on inside the place?”

“Just a few in the part of the building where the doctors have their bedrooms and offices. The patients’ rooms are in the front, so I’d be surprised if they knew anything had happened.” He paused. “Except for maybe one of them.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “Any idea why they’re there?”

“Nobody told me much of anything, Arly.” He stopped at the gate and pushed the button on the box. After he’d identified himself, the gate swung open and we drove around back to a small parking lot. There were a couple of nondescript cars, an aged Volkswagen camper adorned with bumper stickers and dents, and two dusty vans. At the far side was a fenced pen restraining the dog I’d met earlier. “Dr. Stonebridge said he’ll be waiting for you by the fountain. I’m going home to get some sleep.”

“You’re just going to drop me off and leave?”

“Sheriff’s orders. You got a problem with that, call him at your own risk.”

I watched Les drive away, then went though a small gate. The new additions matched the exterior of the old building. What had been neglected pasture a month earlier was now an elaborate green space, with manicured grass, pines and flowering trees, brick paths, and beds of bright flowers. Although I was sadly ignorant of the cost of landscaping, I could see that big bucks had been spent. I wondered if the birds and butterflies had been purchased, or just leased for the summer.

The only person I could see was a man skimming the pool with a long-handled net. Doubting that the exalted doctor stooped to such pedestrian chores, I went down a path. After a bit of meandering, I spotted a silver-haired man sitting on a bench near a fountain. I couldn’t tell if he was mourning, thinking, or napping, so I approached quietly and waited until he looked up.

“Dr. Stonebridge? I’m Arly Hanks,” I said, “the chief of police in Maggody.”

“Ah, yes,” he murmured. “Sheriff Dorfer said you were coming. A dreadful business, this. Miss Foss was a charming young woman. We are all deeply distressed by her unfortunate death.”

“I understand it was a bit more than unfortunate.”

He stood up and came over to me. His complexion was almost gray, either from grief or exhaustion, but I noted that he had found time to shave and put on a freshly pressed white medical coat. He studied my face as he clasped my hand and squeezed it with avuncular tenderness. “I do hope you were told about the necessity of protecting our patients from undue alarm. They are all quite sensitive at this stage in their rehabilitation, and I cannot allow them to be upset by any sort of unnecessary intrusion.”