The Imposter (16 page)

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 on 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 to have awakened you 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.   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 while 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 am, 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.

"Elizabeth,
thanks for coming." Alex smiled hesitantly at her friend.  As the director
of media relations for the hospital, Elizabeth's job was difficult, especially
for a young woman who had only two years before received her Masters 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 had 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 am 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 17 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 as Elizabeth and Alex stared 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 17 times with what appears to be her blue
knitting needle.  She was stabbed repeatedly in the eyes, in the ears, and in
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 toward 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 what precisely
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 wrist 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.