The Imposter (Alexandra Destephano Book 2) Read online

  "Yeah. Good idea. Thanks, Ms. Destephano." Josh couldn't move his chair quickly enough to get himself closer to the double doors of the day room.

  Alex walked down the hall towards the community room, her heart again thudding in her chest. She knocked on the door and was admitted by a grim-faced Don Montgomery.

  Don's greeting was tinged with scorn. "It's about time. Where in the hell have you been? I can never find you when I need you. When I don't need or want to see you, you're hanging around my office!" Montgomery's normally grating voice had a caustic edge to it.

  Alex ignored him. Sweeping feelings of déjà vu encompassed her. This is just like before, she thought. Just like February, right before Mardi Gras. Even the players were the same, she thought to herself as she looked at the group assembled around the table. Monique was sitting next to Jack, her face tear-streaked and pale.

  Jack was fighting strong emotions not to overly comfort Monique, while working hard not to beat the hell out of the pompous CEO as he railed out at Alex.

  Jack looked like hell. It was clear he hadn't been home at all. He must have come here straight from the murder in the Quarter. A nurse was also present. Alex assumed it was the night shift charge nurse. Missing were Dr. John Ashley, the chief of medicine who was out of town, and Betty Favre. The other person in the room was Whitset, who waved and smiled benignly at Alex, greeting her as if she was his best friend. Monique hardly seemed to notice Alex’s entrance.

  "What's happened?" Alex's voice was cool, but she was seething with anger at Don Montgomery’s disrespect.

  Montgomery's voice was loud and testy. "We have a dead patient – a dead, whacko patient – that's what happened!" He looked around impatiently and continued, "A dead crazy, right here at CCMC. I just love it." Montgomery's voice dripped sarcasm as he peevishly added, "Where's Elizabeth? We've got to cover our asses on this one with the media. Where is she, Alex?" Don demanded, his face red with anger.

  Alex shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know where Elizabeth is. I would imagine home in bed unless someone has called her. Did anyone call?" Alex looked around the room.

  Everyone gestured in the negative. No one spoke.

  Don's harsh voice broke in again. "Desmonde, you're the medical person here. Call Tippett and get her in here. Now! I can't expect anything from you physicians." Don glared at the psychiatrist.

  Alex could feel Monique's fury and she saw the tell tale blush of anger climbing her bruised and battered neck.

  After several moments, Monique stood, stared at Don, recovered herself, and said clearly, "Mr. Montgomery, I'll be happy to call Elizabeth Tippet. Generally, the unit administrator calls, who in this case would be Mr. Whitset. But I gather that hasn't happened, so ....”

  Whitset jumped to his feet, his eyes flashing, and harshly interrupting Monique, said, "How dare you single me out in front of a group for a responsibility I never knew I had. I will get you for this ...."

  Monique didn't let him finish, "Don't threaten me, Mr. Whitset. We'll talk about this later." Then she turned to face Don, leaned over so she was inches from his face and said, "As I was saying before Mr. Whitset interrupted me, I will call Elizabeth, but I won't respond to any more of your callous behavior or profanity. Is that clear to you?" Monique's voice was calm and cool and her intent was clear. She had regained her professional demeanor.

  Alex telepathically cheered her on. That's my girl, she thought. Go Monique.

  Alex noticed the ruthless look Whitset gave Monique and it sent shivers up her spine. The look was downright evil and Whitset had even bared his teeth. He was furious at her and Alex was afraid he would physically hurt her or sabotage her. She had to remind Monique to be careful and watch out. She turned to Jack and immediately knew that Jack had seen the look as well. His face revealed his anger and he looked like he wanted to strangle the administrator.

  "Just get Tippet in here," Don roared. He glowered at Dr. Desmonde again and said, "I run this damn place, such as it is. I'll say whatever I want to, when I want to!" Montgomery pointed his finger in Monique's face and said, "Don't try to bully me, Desmonde, with your calculated, psychiatric bullshit. If you knew how to run a psychiatric service, we wouldn't have patients murdering each other."

  Alex's heart was racing frantically, skipping beats. She felt hot all over. Murder! So that's what happened. It wasn’t just a dead patient, but one that had been murdered? On the psych unit at CCMC? Murder involving patients? Oh My God! Oh, no! This was worse than she'd expected. Her legal mind was boggled with the thoughts of it, not to mention the repercussions. A million thoughts were racing through her head all at once.

  Monique continued standing, undeterred by Don's anger, ranting, and rudeness. She stated again, her voice firm, "Mr. Montgomery, I'll call Elizabeth, but I want you to guarantee that you will conduct yourself in an acceptable manner and cut the vulgarity and innuendos."

  Don nodded his head and threw up his hands. "Just do it, Dr. Desmonde!" His voice was scathing and his emphasis on the word doctor was derogatory.

  Monique left the room to call Elizabeth Tippet, the young woman in charge of media relations at CCMC.

  Alex looked frantically at Jack Françoise. "What happened, Jack? Who was killed?"

  Françoise was positively grey with fatigue. He looked at Alex and spoke softly. "An elderly patient, Mrs. Smithson, was found dead in her room about an hour and a half ago. She had been stabbed repeatedly. She had only been dead for a short period of time. Her body was still warm."

  Alex’s stomach lurched forward and she thought she would be sick on the large walnut conference table. She immediately remembered Mrs. Smithson from the day before. She was the little, white-haired lady who had been admitted with depression. Just yesterday, Alex had questioned Monique and Donna about the clinical judgment of placing an elderly, depressed woman on a unit with so many violent patients.

  Her voice was hushed. She could hardly form her words. "Oh God, not Mrs. Smithson. That little, white-haired lady who was knitting yesterday in the community room? The one who looks like Mrs. Santa Claus? The little lady with the apple-red cheeks?"

  Whitset was clearly loving Alex's reaction. His smile was inappropriate. He couldn't wait to respond. His voice was remarkably clear and sounded gleeful, "Yes, Alex dear, that's her. But she doesn't have apple cheeks anymore and the knitting needle is now stuck in her mouth.

  Alex was stunned, her jaw dropped in shock.

  Even Don looked surprised at the sound of Whitset's voice, but his surprise was short lived. To deflect attention from his administrator, Don moved closer to Alex, his face leering into hers. "Looked like Mrs. Santa Claus. You've got it, Alex," he said sarcastically. "Mrs. Santa Claus has been murdered at Crescent City Medical Center by her next-door neighbor, Mr. McMurdie, our inpatient member of the New Orleans Police Department on the wacko unit. Right, Commander Françoise?" Don Montgomery turned his sarcasm on Jack and glared at him.

  Alex could see Jack struggle for control. Jack despised Montgomery, who he had disliked before the mayoral election. Now he had two sworn enemies.

  The CEO continued, "One of your protégés wasn't he, Captain Françoise? NOPD’s finest. Great work!" Montgomery spit his words at the police Commander.

  "It's Commander Françoise now," Monique said automatically. “He is the highest ranking officer in this police district.”

  "Well, whoop-de-do! Everyone knows the New Orleans police are all crooked, incompetent or on the take," Don snarled, staring at Jack.

  Alex placed her hand on Jack's arm as if to restrain him from knocking Montgomery senseless, a dream the Commander had coveted for months. The blood was bad between the CEO and the police Commander -- very bad, in fact. Alex knew that the meeting could easily erupt into a free-for-all between the two men and that the Commander would lose, not physically, but most assuredly politically. She also knew Don would be a bloody mess. There was nothing Don would like more than to get Françoise fired, or at least, repr
imanded. Jack's judgment returned with a touch of Alex's hand. He sat down. Alex noted with some relief that Monique had returned to the room, her composure intact.

  Françoise settled down and looked at Alex. His tone was grave. "It looks now, at least from the preliminaries, that McMurdie is guilty. He was covered with Mrs. Smithson's blood."

  Alex fought another visceral response and thought about how she could possibly keep herself from throwing up. It had been hours since she had eaten. "Who found Mrs. Smithson," Alex questioned.

  "I did," responded the nurse at the conference table.

  Alex turned to look again at the nurse. She looked familiar, but Alex couldn't quite place her. She thought for several moments and then remembered her from the evening before. She was a nurse from an agency, who had been working evenings, the nurse who had admitted to Alex that she had no psychiatric nursing experience. This is just great, Alex thought to herself. A jury will love this. We’re fish bait on this one. This really sucks.

  Alex spoke to the nurse. "Didn't we talk earlier? Weren't you on the evening shift? Sorry, I can't remember your name."

  "I'm JoAnne Waters. Yes, we did talk and I was on evenings. The agency couldn't find anyone else to send for nights, so I volunteered. I guess the word's out around town about the nurse that was attacked and raped. Anyway, I agreed to stay over, you know, do a double. I didn't know I'd signed up for murder."

  Alex noticed that Joanne was super pale and had tears in her eyes. "You were the one who found Mrs. Smithson," Alex asked.

  "Yes, I found her when I was making rounds at 2:00 AM. She was dead. I immediately called security and they called the other people who are here. Mr. Whitset was already here, in his office, and came out when I was making the phone calls."

  Whitset was here. What the hell was Whitset doing here on the night shift? "Did something happen on your shift that could’ve caused something like this to happen?" Alex looked speculatively at the tearful, frightened RN.

  Joanne answered in a quavering voice, "No. Nothing. The evening was quiet. The patients were doing well. There was no trouble at all." At that point JoAnne turned to look at Lester and said, "Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Whitset? You were here until after midnight …."

  Whitset gave the nurse a sly smile. "Yes, it was quiet. I agree. I left shortly after midnight to grab a coffee and returned to my office to do some work." He looked around the group as if to be sure that everyone heard him.

  "Anyway," Joanne continued, "On the night shift, shortly after Mr. Whitset left, there was a big ruckus on the prison unit next door. They called a stat page for help and I sent my two psych techs over. Apparently, several inmates were trying to attack a third man and my techs were tied up for some time. I was alone on this unit. There was a lot of noise and screaming that I could hear from the prison unit. The noise woke up several of our patients who became alarmed and frightened. One was a new admission. I medicated him, along with two others, and told them all to go back to sleep. I guess that was what I was doing when the murder occurred … I didn't hear anything. I promise you, if I had known this had happened or heard Mrs. Smithson's bell, I would have gone there immediately. She went to bed around 9:00 and was sleeping soundly at midnight. I had no idea ...." Joanne started crying softly into a tissue, deftly handed to her by Whitset.

  Alex pondered Joanne's remarks for a few seconds. She looked at the Commander who nodded his head. Jack also believed Joanne's story. Alex turned her gaze to Whitset and asked him coldly, "Why were you here so late, Mr. Whitset?"

  Lester gave Alex a placating smile. "I frequently work late, Alex. I make it a point to be on the unit at different times during the day and night so I can evaluate the quality of care the patients are receiving. It's my own system of quality management, you see. I'm a clinical and administrative manager. Besides, I love being here at night. It is quiet and I can get so much more work done than during the daylight hours." His voice was soft and smooth, even sensuous.

  Alex found herself once again mesmerized by the man’s voice.

  He continued to smile at Alex the entire time he was talking. Then Whitset added, "Besides, I don't like imposters working at my hospital. I oversee all operations, clinical and administrative.”

  Alex was confused. "Imposters? What do you mean, imposters?" Alex questioned.

  Whitset hesitated for a second and said, "Imposters, people that pretend to care for patients, but who don't know how. People who aren't in tune with patient needs and don't understand them are imposters. Many psychiatric staff are actually imposters -- they pretend to be someone they aren't.”

  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 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 .

  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 cri
me – – 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.