John Miller - Too Far Gone

Not that Manseur or Alexa cared, but it was obvious that Veronica Malouf had planned to trade the life of an underappreciated laborer for one of a moneyed dilettante. The young woman didn’t realize that an assault on LePointe’s reputation, and perhaps his very freedom, might be worth big money to him, but Alexa doubted Veronica had what it would take to actually collect any while Kenneth Decell was running interference for him.

Alexa was delighted. If Veronica hadn’t had a larcenous streak, they’d have no proof to bolster their supposition that LePointe was as nasty a piece of work as they suspected him to be. The basics contained in the papers were proof that Sibby Danielson had not only been under Dr. LePointe’s direct care for those years, but that Dorothy Fugate had been responsible for the patient’s day-to-day care for the same time period. Dorothy Fugate had been the most powerful nurse in the hospital, moving steadily, and rapidly, up the ladder of authority until she was the head administrative nurse. The nurses, the nurses’ aides, the orderlies, and even the janitorial staff on the wards answered to her directly. Sibby Danielson spent her twenty-six-year tour in the same room in the most violent patients’ wing. And Nurse Fugate had taken Sibby home with her and had kept her heavily medicated and imprisoned there.

“How did Dr. LePointe keep all of this from the staff?” Alexa asked Veronica.

“Each doctor, psychiatrist or psychologist, has a full contingent of patients. They only discussed the cases the doctors, psychologists, or nurses brought to the attention of the others. Only Dr. LePointe would have brought up his patients if he wanted to discuss one.”

“Danielson’s nurse never had reason to bring her up?”

“Dorothy Fugate was Sibby’s only nurse-or her supervising nurse, at any rate-and she was the nurse who brought up the other nurses’ concerns at the staff meetings with the doctors and psychologists.”

“So, Dorothy Fugate was where all roads to Sibby intersected?” Alexa asked. “And as director, LePointe controlled these meetings?”

Veronica nodded. “Dr. LePointe personally recruited all of the doctors and psychologists who are working there now. The doctors are real busy and they only worry about their own patients.”

“And Dr. Whitfield?” Manseur asked.

“Let me guess,” Alexa said. “Whitfield is a William LePointe production.”

“He brought him in from a hospital in Richmond,” Veronica said.

“So River Run-a state institution-has been without normal checks and balances of any kind for over twenty-five years?”

“Dr. LePointe still exerts control,” Veronica said.

“Then why did he feel compelled to spirit out Sibby Danielson?” Alexa asked. “Wouldn’t it have been safer if he had left her there? Why not just make sure she remained drugged up?”

“Or died,” Manseur offered. “One little mistake with the medication, and there’s a natural death. Or overdose her and say she saved up her meds and committed suicide.”

“Dr. LePointe wouldn’t ever kill anybody. Sibby’s no big deal. There’s other patients on the maximum-security wards that are well known,” Veronica told them. “Serial killers, a woman who poisoned her family, even a transvestite who collected severed penises and made hatbands with them that she sold to tourists.”

“We need a picture of Sibby,” Manseur said, changing the subject. “So we can find her.”

“I don’t have access to pictures of the inmates. Staff is HR. Inmates is another department altogether. I got you the names of the staff in the ward like you asked, but no pictures or addresses. They’re all there.”

“Did you know that Sibby was living with Nurse Fugate?” Alexa asked.

“For real?” Veronica said, appearing genuinely surprised.

“She isn’t now,” Manseur said. “Somebody murdered Nurse Fugate, and Sibby was no longer around. That’s why we need a picture.”

“Did Sibby chop her up?” Veronica asked.

“Somebody caved in her skull. Might have been Sibby.”

Veronica said, “Was it with a pipe?”

“Why did you say pipe?” Alexa asked.

Veronica shrugged. “Don’t know. There was this guy they put into the violent ward who had mega muscles, and scars all over his forehead. I saw them walking him once. One of the girls in Admissions said he caved in somebody’s head with a pipe.”

“A pipe? Do you know what happened to him?”

“I’m not sure. I do know the orderlies said he was the scariest man they’d ever had to deal with. They were saying they would hate to run into him on the outside.”

“What did he do for a living?” Manseur asked. “Clubbing people isn’t a full-time occupation.”

“Some kind of fisherman or trapper. They said that’s all he talked about. He used that pipe to kill things like animals he trapped.”

“Was he in the same ward as Sibby?” Alexa asked. Lead pipe…nutria hair…salty water.

“He was in one of the violent wards.”

“Ward fourteen?” Alexa asked.

“Maybe it was.”

“Trapper with a pipe,” Manseur said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, I remember…”

“You know who she’s referring to?” Alexa asked him.

“About two years ago some fisherman beat another fisherman half to death in front of a bunch of witnesses. Two other people in the area had been found with crushed skulls, so they figured this guy did all of them. He was strong as an ape. Took half a dozen deputies and three stun guns to restrain him. I can’t remember his name, but the case fell apart because the witnesses got amnesia, and the man he beat couldn’t remember who’d done it. They had to release him.”

Veronica shrugged. “People get released all the time that shouldn’t. That’s all I know.” She looked at the papers on the table. “I guess Dr. LePointe has to find out about these?”

Manseur frowned.

“Maybe he won’t need to know,” Alexa told Veronica. “You’ve been a big help.” Even though you are a criminal. Maybe this will straighten you out before you end up in jail…or dead.

“I think that’s all for now. Stay near your phone,” Manseur told her.

“Go home,” Alexa said. “Don’t even think about discussing this with anybody. If you do, we’ll find out, and we won’t be nice about it.”

“I’m going to my parents’ in Lafayette until next week. The hurricane and all…”

“Go,” Manseur said, waving his fingers at her. “Keep your cell phone hot, and we’ll call if there’s anything further.”

Veronica grabbed her purse and left the room like there was a bomb on the table, pulling the door shut behind her hard enough to rattle the opaque glass panel.

Manseur went directly to his computer and started typing. Thirty seconds later, he looked at Alexa. “Leland Ticholet was twenty-three. The instrument he was suspected of using to pound the victim’s head in was never recovered, but the medical examiner speculated that the attack was most likely committed with an instrument consistent with a section of pipe. Lead pipe is a relatively common item among commercial fishermen. Not sure why.”

Alexa said, “A lead pipe is both heavier than wood and softer than galvanized, so it does more deep damage without splitting skin against the bone.”

“How’d you know that?”

“I spend a lot of time talking to crime techs about cold cases. Or maybe I read it in a novel. Got an address on him?”

“I guess no address could be established. Ticholet was released without any probation or restrictions.”

“I guess the swamp is a nonspecific address. He was locked up in River Run’s violent ward while Fugate was there. He might have harbored a grudge. Got even with her,” Alexa said.