her Sibby Danielson is still in the hospital, because you checked and saw her. Now, how could she get out through security without having received a release form?”
“She couldn’t. There had to be a release form or she’d never get out the gate, but it isn’t where it should be.”
“Unless she maybe went out in a car trunk?”
“The staff parks in a fenced-in lot to the rear of the building, and it’s under constant surveillance. Standing policy is that every vehicle is searched when it leaves. No exceptions. They’ll search your car when you go out. You’ll see,” Veronica said.
“They searched Dr. LePointe’s car?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. Not always.”
“How much power did LePointe exercise here?”
“His mental health foundation gives a lot of research grant money to most of the doctors as well as the clinical psychologists, and it pays for continuing ed for nurses and orderlies. He’s Doctor Emeritus of River Run, and he’s the past chairman of the state’s mental health board. Half the people on the payroll get some form of financial subsidy from Dr. LePointe. He doesn’t have an office here anymore, but truth is, Dr. Whitfield only runs the place on paper, and he knows it. When Dr. LePointe calls, Whitfield trips over himself to put down his putter and grab the phone.”
“Do you think Dr. LePointe has reason to stay on top of what’s happening here?”
She shrugged. “He checks in with me like I’m still his secretary. Before he retired, he gave me a new Honda Accord Coupe. I think he worked here so long, he can’t let go-hates not knowing everything that’s up. What do I tell Dr. Whitfield about Sibby?”
“I’ll tell Dr. Whitfield that Sibby Danielson can’t have been released. We’ll leave satisfied.”
“He might check.”
“He obviously doesn’t know who she is. But you’re going to search until you find her records for me.”
Veronica’s eyes lost their focus.
“Twenty-six years means there’s an awful lot of paperwork on her. If you want this to go away, you’ll find and deliver that paperwork to me at NOPD HQ. It isn’t a suggestion, Veronica. The alternative to compliance will be catastrophic for you. You have my word on that.”
“Take official records out of here?” Veronica looked stunned, and afraid. “It’s against the law.”
“I’m the only law you need concern yourself with. A word to the wise,” Alexa said, “I know a lot more about all this than I’m telling you. If you cross me, whatever you imagine anybody else might do to you is nothing in comparison to what I will do. Dig for those records like your very freedom and future ability to find meaningful employment depend on it.” Alexa smiled at Veronica. “When you find them…straight to me. Now, when you call Decell back, say we were satisfied that she was here, because there was no release form.”
Veronica nodded slowly.
“And,” Alexa added, “I want the names and pertinent info on all of the staff that worked on Danielson’s ward in the year before she vanished.”
“I don’t know…that’s kept-”
“I have all the confidence on earth that you’ll find those things for me,” Alexa said firmly. “When there’s no choice, there’s always a way.”
31
Alexa returned to the hospital director’s office after her visit with Veronica Malouf, to find Dr. Whitfield expounding on the hospital and the role it played in not merely protecting society from the anti-social actions of the hospital’s residents, but, just as importantly, in protecting the residents from an ill-informed and suspicious society.
“Patient inmates are re-evaluated on a yearly basis. If Danielson was judged to be of less danger to herself or others, she would certainly have been moved progressively into less restrictive wards and eventually-as a result of successful therapies-she might have been released into a halfway house, or to her family if certain criteria were met, or into some other appropriate, and authorized, living situation. Do you know her original diagnosis?”
“Paranoid schizophrenia,” Alexa said. She didn’t want Dr. Whitfield getting curious and starting to dig into this patient the FBI found of interest. “Voices commanding her to kill. Standard diagnosis.”
“Ah, if she was delusional, it is generally accepted that she was not responsible for her actions,” Whitfield said.
“She’s here, by the way. Safe and sound,” Alexa said.
“That’s the end to our little mystery,” Whitfield announced.
“Looks that way,” Manseur said. When he looked at Alexa, she tilted her head to signal him that it was time to go. Dr. Whitfield stood when Manseur did.
“I’d love to pick your brain sometime,” Dr. Whitfield said. “I’m fascinated with police procedure as it relates to homicide cases and I’m sure you must have a plethora of tales in your grab bag. I’ve thought about writing a novel-more or less a fictionalized version of my own experiences with the criminally insane. We have to get together soon.”
“It would be my pleasure, Dr. Whitfield,” Manseur said, handing him one of his cards.
“Maybe we could schedule a round of golf,” Dr. Whitfield said.
“Absolutely. The frustration of chasing the ball around and making numerous attempts to steer it into a small hole relaxes me.”
“Frustration relaxes you? Now, that is interesting.”
“It’s great, since my life is nothing but frustration,” Manseur said, smiling. “Stress kills more cops than bullets. Me? I’m always loose as a goose.”
“And a sense of humor helps, I bet,” Whitfield said. “Doctors use humor in stressful situations, just like members of the Detective Bureau.”
“Thank you for your cooperation and insights into mental health,” Alexa said, shaking Dr. Whitfield’s hand.
“It’s what I know,” Whitfield replied. “Anytime. Let’s get together next week, Detective Manseur. You’ll join me at the Metarie Country Club for a round of golf?”
“Depending on what the hurricane does,” Manseur said.
“They’ll have any downed trees cleared from the fairways next day. Mark my word.”
After they left the building, Alexa said, “There’s a common theme in this case.”
“What?”
“Missing files.”
“The release form, you mean?”
“That, and there are no treatment records. I inspired Veronica to find them for us. She’s scared to death of crossing LePointe, but I think she’s more afraid of me at the moment. She told me that LePointe is still exerting influence over the place.”
After retrieving their weapons, they got in the car and Manseur started it. “At least we know Sibby Danielson is locked up.”
“She may indeed be locked up, but not here,” Alexa said.
“You just said…”
“Veronica was calling Decell. I interrogated her. She assured me Sibby isn’t here, despite what the lack of a release form indicates. I lied to Dr. Whitfield. I’m praying your brain-picking, future golfing partner doesn’t decide to check on her for himself.”
“How is Decell involved?”
Alexa explained what she’d learned from Veronica Malouf.
“That doesn’t mean the one thing has anything at all to do with the other. Sibby and Gary West.”
“Dr. LePointe was the director of the hospital just after his brother’s murderess was sent here. I can’t believe the obvious conflict of interest.”
