Stephen White - Critical Conditions

Before I phoned Brenda, I also needed to line up a psychiatrist to sponsor the admission at Children’s. Given the political ramifications of the case, I wanted that psychiatrist to be one who wouldn’t be put off by the media and law enforcement pressure that was sure to follow the revelations about Merritt’s arrest.

Joel Franks, the psychiatrist, who was the assistant director of the inpatient unit at Children’s, had been a resident of the same hospital in Denver where I had been a clinical psychology intern. Joel and I weren’t friends then, and we weren’t now, but we had managed to maintain contact over the years through an occasional admission I made to Children’s, or at an occasional party at the home of a mutual friend. Although I would never have awarded him psychiatry “best-of-show,” I considered him a good example of his breed. My impression was that he viewed me in about the same fashion.

But I knew Joel liked the spotlight. During our training year, I loved attending his case presentations and once skipped a lunch date with a beautiful medical student to see him perform at Grand Rounds. He pushed the podium aside and worked the staid crowd like a stand-up comic with an IQ of 190.

I guessed he would bite at the chance to have Merritt Strait on his unit.

I called him at home, apologized for the lateness of the hour, and explained my dilemma.

He seemed hesitant, as he should have. I dangled details that I’d withheld. First Chaney, then the pending murder charge against Merritt, and finally the elective mutism.

He bit.

As I suspected, Brenda Strait adored the idea of transferring Merritt to Denver and said she would call John and get right back to me.

After less than a minute, the phone rang. Brenda said, “John thinks it’s a great idea as long as you stay involved.”

“I’m planning to, Brenda.”

“Then let’s do it, Dr. Gregory.”

I had intentionally waited until last to call Cozier Maitlin and ask for his assistance. It wasn’t necessary for Cozy to cooperate in this plan, but I thought his presence at the hospital during the transfer might be insurance should we require help distracting the cops.

To say he wasn’t thrilled by the hour of the night that I expected him to be in place at the hospital was an understatement.

My head was on the pillow by midnight. Three and a half hours later I was in the shower.

The plan went forward with minimal drama. Everyone did what was expected of them.

I met Brenda Strait in the hospital lobby and together we proceeded upstairs to wake Merritt and inform her of what was happening. She cried at the news and hugged her mother, and then calmly assisted in getting her few personal things together.

The police officer in the hall was suspicious of all the middle-of-the-night activity, but not savvy enough about hospital procedure to actually guess what we were doing behind the closed door to Merritt’s room.

The nursing staff helped move Merritt from her bed to a wheelchair for the trip downstairs. As soon as the door to Merritt’s room reopened, the officer demanded to be told what was going on. The nurse shrugged and said, “Doctor’s orders; we’re taking her downstairs for something.”

The cop said, “My orders are to stay with her.”

The nurse said, “My orders don’t say anything at all about your orders. You can come on down with us if that’s what you want.”

Brenda and I trailed behind. The elevator was crowded and tense.

The ambulance crew was ready and waiting to implement the transfer to Denver, and the cop looked back and forth between them and Merritt before she finally discerned that something was seriously amiss.

“Wait, I’m sorry, what are you doing? You can’t take her from here. My orders are to-”

This was Cozy’s cue to hit his mark. His timing was, as always, perfect. He stepped onto the scene from the doorway to a small office nearby and said, “Excuse me, Officer, have I missed something? I’m an attorney and this young lady is my client. Has she been placed in custody?”

The cop raised her chin to look up at Cozy, who was suited in yards of fine wool and looked quite imperial.

“Um…no. Not that I…no, she’s not under arrest, but-”

“Thank you, Officer, for clarifying that. I’m so relieved I didn’t overlook something so important. It would have been most embarrassing.” He turned to Brenda and said, “I hope you and your daughter have a safe trip. I’ll speak with you both later today.”

The officer said, “I…um…need to get some instructions from my superiors.”

Compassionately, Cozy said, “Why don’t you do that? There’s a phone right over here.”

I smiled at Cozy’s panache as I walked over and assisted first Merritt and then Brenda into the ambulance. Finally, I leaned in and said to Merritt, “I’ll see you later today. You hang in there.”

She caught me with her eyes and without touching me held me as tightly as I’ve ever been held in my life. She waved good-bye to me, a delicate trill of the fingers of her left hand. I could not have been more moved right then had she spoken a thousand words.

Sam Purdy emerged from some shadows across the parking lot as I made my way to my car. There was no way I would have seen him lurking there if he hadn’t wanted me to. I raised my hand to wave and slowed my walk. He immediately receded again into the darkness.

I figured he had appointed himself Merritt’s guardian angel, willing to risk whatever it took to make sure that the transfer to Denver occurred without incident.

I changed my direction and headed toward him. When I arrived at the place where he had been standing, he was nowhere to be found.

Serendipity prevailed to allow me to meet Merritt’s friend Madison before Madison knew that Merritt was under investigation for murdering Dr. Edward Robilio. I rushed from my office after my ten-thirty patient to get up Broadway for my lunchtime rendezvous with Madison Monroe. Parking was sure to be a bitch on the Hill, so I grabbed a ride on the Hop.

Madison was almost a foot shorter than her friend Merritt. The color of her hair was the exact hue of coffee ice cream, but what was most striking about it was its texture, which was as fine as corn silk. It seemed to blow away from her face, moved only by the air I displaced as I approached.

On first blush, Madison seemed every bit as wary of me as her friend had been. She apparently guessed who I was by the way I hesitated and scanned the room. I kept my distance and sized her up.

She was already round and feminine in all the places where Merritt was still transforming from girl-child to woman. Madison’s hips were mature, and her breasts swelled against a short sweater that exposed an inch or two of her trim abdomen. She wore a jean skirt and tall black clogs with clunky Vibram soles that caused her butt to thrust out and up.

From at least five feet away, I said my first line, which had come to me as I was riding the bus. “Hi, you must be Madison. It’s a pleasure to meet a hero. I’m Alan Gregory, Dr. Gregory.”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t a great line, but I thought it warranted more of a reply than “yeah.”

“Can I get you something, some coffee?”

“You buying?”

“Yes, of course. You’re doing me a favor. I appreciate it.”

“A, uh, frappucino. Grandé.” She pronounced it correctly-grand-ay-but without much confidence. “With whipped cream. And a chocolate chip scone, too.” Madison’s apparent vanity didn’t include any worries about an avalanche of calories finding their way to her hips.

I waited in line and picked up her order along with an espresso for myself and joined her across the room at a high table about the size of a large pizza. We sat on metal stools.