“Miss Ballard, you’re an employee of the pharmacy, not this home or its corporation. I will not stand you interrogating me.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Lutz, but I’m bound by federal regulations.” She tried to maintain a tone of politeness, but his dismissal of her was irritating. It was also unprofessional. And she wondered if he’d dismiss one of the older staffers or male doctors like this.
“Maybe you just neglected to copy them properly.”
“That’s entirely possible, but I won’t know that until I see her charts.”
He made a move to usher her out the door, but she didn’t budge. “Dr. Carvahlo is my supervisor at CommCare. I’m sure he would like to hear your explanation. May I use your telephone?”
“No, you may not. The charts are being photocopied in the event they’re subpoenaed by the police. You can see them when they’re returned.”
“Thank you. Oh, another thing: Somebody other than her primary care physician is signing off on her sheets.”
The skin of his face appeared to tighten. “Ms. Ballard, why at a time like this are you bothering me with trivial details?” And he pressed her outside the office and closed the door. “Dr. Carr is her primary care physician. Good day.”
She watched him clop out the front door and into the parking lot, thinking that maybe she was being trivial, maybe even petty, the kind of things that drove Todd away.
After recomposing herself, she returned to the reception desk and asked the operator to page Dr. Carr.
Rene left the building and headed for her car, where she called Dr. Carr’s number from her cell phone. With the answering service she left her name and number, identifying herself. Just as she started the car, something shot through her brain like a dark premonition.
SHE WENT BACK INSIDE AND INTO the AD unit again. Bonnie was alone at the desk and paid her no attention.
Rene began at the far end of the west corridor and moved toward the nurses’ station, then down the north corridor. Most of the doors were left open, and those that were closed she tapped first, then entered. She went upstairs and followed the same route. At the nurse’s station she bumped into Alice. “You’re back.” It sounded like a reprimand.
“Yes.” She didn’t explain her return, but she could feel Alice’s eyes bore through the back of her head as she cut into the activities room, where patients sat around tables doing puzzles or pasting pictures to colored paper. She stopped here and there to compliment some of them.
“You’re beautiful,” one woman said to her. And she stuck the tip of her tongue out between her teeth the way a child does. She was doing a puzzle of a kitten. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Rene. And you’re beautiful, too.” The woman’s face was soft and powdery, like risen bread dough. Her eyes were watery blue and she wore rimless glasses. She looked like an aged nun. Her hands were dappled with liver spots, but they worked the puzzle pieces with methodical care in search of their mates.
“I’m going to pray to the Virgin Mary for you.”
“Thank you,” Rene said. “And what’s your name so I can say a prayer for you?”
“Ma-ry Cur-ley,” she said in a singsong voice. Then she wrinkled her face and stuck her tongue out again like a child.
Rene felt a small shock. There was no Mary Curley on her census. This woman officially was not on the ward. “I’m sorry, what is your name?”
“Ma-ry Cur-ley, and I have a dog named Jello.”
“Jello. What a wonderful name.” Rene felt as if she had entered an alternate universe.
Mary took Rene’s hand and made an odd tongue-sucking sound. Then she said. “I have a dog named Jello. And he’s out back asleep in his house.”
“Well, I’ll be sure not to wake him.” And she patted Mary on the shoulder.
On the way out of the dayroom Rene passed a room with its door open. Inside was a male patient sitting by the window wearing a khaki U.S. army cap with insignia. She stepped inside. The man looked up at her blankly.
“Hi, my name is Rene.”
The man said nothing.
“I like your hat.” The man still did not respond, but he kept staring at her. “And what is your name?”
Still no answer. On the bureau behind him were several framed photographs with labels. One colored shot, presumably of his wife and daughter, was labeled “Marie and Christine.” Another showed the same woman Christine with a young boy named “Steven,” probably the man’s grandson. Beside them was a large blowup in black-and-white showing two young men posing in army fatigues and helmets. Each was holding a weapon. The label under the photo read: “Louis Martinetti and Sam Swenson, 187th Airborne Regimental Combat Team, Hill 329, Sukchon, Korea, October 1950.” A gold star was pasted under one young man—a black-haired slender kid with the same eyes as the elderly man she was addressing.
“Are you Louis Martinetti?”
He looked at her with shock. “You’re Fuzzy Swenson’s sister.”
“Who?”
“Fuzzy Swenson.”
Rene looked back at the black-and-white blowup. “There’s a Sam Swenson in the photograph of you. Is that who you mean?”
He squinted at her to sharpen his focus. “You his sister, um … Rita?”
Rene stepped closer so he could see her better. “No, my name is Rene Ballard. I’m the consulting pharmacist here.” She wasn’t sure he understood but she put out her hand.
He did not take her hand but stared at her until he was convinced that she was not who he thought. “Just as well … what they did to him.” He winced as something sharp passed through his mind.
She would have liked to talk, curious about Fuzzy Swenson and hoping to bring Louis out more. But Alice was standing in the doorway staring at her through hard eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Martinetti,” Rene said. As she turned to leave, she noticed that on the bed was an army uniform neatly pressed and still on hangers. She stepped out of the room and looked at Alice who just glared at her. Rene flashed her a smile and said, “Well, see you tomorrow.”
Alice did not respond, but Rene could still feel the press of her gaze as she made her way down the hall to the exit.
She passed down the stairs and out into the parking lot to her car. According to the road atlas, Dudley, New Hampshire, was about an hour north of here. She had the day off and it was a beautiful late August morning and maybe during the ride things might start making sense to her.
Especially why she had counted four more patients on the Alzheimer’s disease unit than were listed on her census.
7
“MRS. CASSANDRA GOULD? MY NAME IS RENE Ballard. I called you from the road.”
“Yes, yes, I remember,” the woman said through the screen door. “I’m not the one with dementia. At least not yet. Come in, please.”
