The Imposter (Alexandra Destephano Book 2) Page 22

  Alex and Robert walked slowly towards her office, talking quietly to each other.

  Robert said to Alex, his voice low and serious, "You know, Al, Whitset really bothers me. He looks crazy himself. Did you see the way he looked at Monique? At Liz? I swear, I think he’d like to kill them both."

  "Yeah, I know, and probably me as well. The man absolutely chills me to the bone. I think there's something wrong with him, too. Monique thinks he probably has some type of personality disorder. I know Jack was going to run a check on him today. By the way, Robert," Alex said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "Monique was going to search his office this afternoon. That's why she was late getting to the meeting. Intuitively, I think she believes he's involved in some of the stuff in the Pavilion."

  "Do you mean Angela or Mrs. Smithson?" Robert looked shocked.

  "Oh, no, I don't think so. She's just concerned that he spends so much time with the patients. She thinks he agitates them or something. Causes patient outbursts. Anyway, I'm going to go over there and try to see her.”

  Chapter 26

  Whitset felt confused on his way back to the Pavilion. He had taken several wrong turns in the main hospital. The voices were screaming in his head. He was so hot, so terribly hot. He stopped to sit on a bench in the shade to rest for a few minutes, but it was still stifling. It'd been a hard day for him. He had been up a long time, almost 24 hours. He always felt bad when he didn't sleep well and the voices seemed to wear him down more. He placed his face between his hands, pleading with the voices to leave him alone. He was too tired to listen to them. Besides, he was worried about all the imposters that were showing up. They were ganging up against him. There were so many, three in just the last few days. Before that, it'd been years since he had seen one of them.

  Lester began to think back. He'd never forget the first one he'd met. It was at school, a teacher of his in Alabama. He had been 12 years old then. She'd been mean to him and ridiculed him in front of the class. He had wet his pants and everybody had laughed at him. He could still see their faces -- all of his friends. Their mouths were huge, their lips painted red like the red of a clown's mouth. They were leering at him. They were making fun of him and taunting him repeatedly. They'd even made up a rhyme. He could hear it now. They had sung it to him on the bus over and over again:

  “Whitset, Whitset, can stand no stress

  Whitset, Whitset is a real big mess

  Whitset, Whitset is such a mess

  Whitset, Whitset just peed his pants!”

  Lester couldn't stand it. After that, the kids never left him alone. He'd become the class whipping boy. He began to hate school and retreated into himself. Then, one day, his teacher had kept him after school and made him write on the blackboard 300 times, "I will pay attention in class". He remembered being mad and feeling completely powerless. He had completed his punishment and turned around to face his teacher … and then it happened. He saw her turn to plastic! He watched her face become hard and immovable. He saw her eyes turn into two inflexible pieces of blue plastic. He watched in horror and fascination as her lips became fixed in a red, stiff, hard smile. Her hands, below the cuffs of her blouse, had also turned to plastic. Her nails turned a shiny pink plastic, like seashells. Then, they told him to do it … the voices … and he had. He felt triumphant! After all, she was an imposter. It was his responsibility to "do away" with imposters. His voices said so.

  Then there was a huge blank in his life. Whitset didn't remember the next few years. He thought he'd been in school trying to learn to behave better. Anyway, he hadn't seen any imposters for a long time. He could only remember one other one and he pushed her out of his mind. He had loved her and she had laughed at him. Finally, he saw her turn to plastic, too. And then, well, he had had to do it. Even if it was his brother's wife. He felt tingly at the memory. He liked the feeling he got when hurting other people.

  He got excited now just remembering the feeling of squeezing her neck. God, that was such a long time ago. It was too painful to remember, but the pain felt good and energized him -- at least, for a while. Suddenly Whitset felt tired. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and awoke with a start! Had someone spoken to him? They must have because he had heard a voice. It was 5 o'clock in the afternoon. People were walking from the Pavilion towards their cars. He looked over at the yellow tape and wondered what it was doing there in the trees. Then he remembered. Oh yeah, the nurse. He remembered that night and pleasure riveted through him. He got chill bumps all over his arms. He could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Lester shook his head furiously. He didn't want to think about that now. He had to get control back. He was much too tired and his head was beginning to ache.

  Whitset rested a few minutes longer and then finished walking to the Pavilion. The air-conditioning in the lobby felt so cool. The blast seemed to revive him. So very cool. He sat on the grey vinyl bench for a few minutes. He began to feel better, much better. His strength came back and his head cleared. He pushed the elevator button, unlocked the door to Pavilion II, and headed towards his office. It was pretty quiet. Everybody was in the day room eating dinner. Rose, the waif, waved at him from her room when he walked by. Whitset didn't respond. He continued the walk down the hall towards his office.

  He opened his office door. Immediately, he knew. Someone had been in here. Someone had been in his office. He could smell it – no, not it, her. It was a female smell. Just a slight, slight odor. He felt himself getting angry. Who had been in his office? He began to hyperventilate as he looked around carefully. Nothing seemed to be disturbed. His desk drawers were still locked. He took out his keys and opened his bottom right drawer to check his stash. It was there. He breathed a sigh of relief and began to calm down.

  His relief was momentary. He was furious about the invasion of his private space. He stalked out of his door and locked it securely. He walked into Rose's room. Why not? Her room was the closest to his office. Maybe Rose saw something. She was lying on her bed and gave Whitset a shy smile in greeting.

  His voice was charming, honey coated. "Rose, it's your good friend, Lester. How are you doing?" Whitset gave Rose his best smile. He sat next to her on the bed, holding her hands. “I like your blouse. Is it new?" His voice was soft and sensual. His eyes rolled up and down her slight body.

  Rose nodded her head. Her eyes transfixed on Whitset’s face.

  "Give Lester a big smile and then Lester will give Rose a big kiss," Whitset said in a childish voice as he moved closer to her.

  Rose smiled at him. She didn't really like Lester, but she was so lonely. Besides, once he had made her feel really good. Just a couple of nights ago. They had done the dirty thing or, at least, they had almost done the dirty thing. Somehow, Anthony had found out and that was why he had been so mad at her yesterday. Somehow Anthony knew she had been with Lester. Rose continued to smile and think. Men usually just ignored her, except for Anthony. He said he really loved her. She didn't really know. Men had said that to her before and, besides, Lester was being nice. She kissed him back.

  "That's good, very good," Lester's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he continued to kiss Rose over and over. His hands undid the buttons on her blouse. Rose gave a little sigh as Lester's soft hand reached for her tiny breasts. As he continued to kiss and fondle her, he asked her softly, talking baby talk to her, "Did little Rose see anybody go into Lessie's office today? You know, when I was at the meeting?"

  Rose didn't say anything, but Whitset picked up on the almost imperceptible stiffening of her body. He continued to kiss her, kneading her breasts and fondling her body. He said sensually, “Lester knows that Rose knows who was in his office. Rose had better tell Lester if she wants him to stay and play with her."

  Rose was silent. Whitset immediately withdrew his mouth and hands from her body.

  Rose moaned in disappointment. It was cold where his lips had been and she shivered. She opened her eyes wide and looked at him. "Please, Lester, please. It f
eels so good. Please play with me," she begged.

  "Only if you tell Lessie who was in his office this afternoon. That's only fair. Then, I'll play with you all night. That's only fair." Whitset's voice was indignant, self-righteous.

  That was all Rose needed to hear. She asked in her little girl voice, "Promise, Lester? Do you really promise?"

  "Scouts honor. I promise. Tell Lester and we will play with each other all night." Whitset gave Rose another long, lingering kiss.

  Rose, her eyes closed, said softly. "It was Dr. Desmonde. She was only in there a couple of minutes."

  Rose opened her eyes as she felt Whitset's hands turn cold. His face was white and his eyes were dilated. She was frightened. She wished he would get up, but he just laid there, his body was so cold that she was freezing where she had been so warm a few minutes before.

  Whitset was beside himself with anger. God, he hated that shrink bitch. She'd been a pain since his first day. Always wanting to do things right. Always wanting more staff and more supplies. Always wanting to disorder Lester's perfectly ordered life. Today she had gone too far. She would pay now.

  He continued to think, becoming angrier by the minute. First, she had threatened to close down the hospital and now she had broken into his office. Then, she had turned into an imposter. She was one of them. In his anger and fury, Lester ripped off Rose's polyester slacks and thrust himself into her. He needed a release. Please, somebody, anybody, give me a release, he cried to himself. Let me make it this time. Let me get off! It was such a big deal for him sometimes. Then, other times, it wasn't a big deal at all. The uncertainty made him mad and unsure of his sexuality. He lusted for power and obedience at all times. That also included the obedience of his body.

  He continued to go at it. Please, he deserved it today. He needed the release. It had been a horrible day. He thrust and thrust and thrust.

  Rose lay beneath him, whimpering silently. "Please stop, Lester. You're hurting me. I want you to play nicely with me." Rose smiled tearfully at him.

  Whitset glared at her. "Shut up, you little bitch." He grabbed her face in his hands and hissed at her, "If you tell anybody we did this, I'll kill you!"

  He jumped from the bed and disappeared silently from Rose's room, leaving her crying silently into her pillow.

  Chapter 27

  It was late afternoon and Alex was frantic. She could not find Monique anywhere. She had called the Pavilion before she had left the hospital, and the staff had assured her that Dr. Desmonde was not there. Alex, feeling increasingly apprehensive and useless at work, called Martin's cab, dropped Angie's cross at her jewelry store over on Magazine Street, and went home. Even Martin's humor and jokes had not been able to cheer her up on her way home. She was worried and just had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her fearful.

  She glanced at her kitchen clock for the tenth time since getting home. It was almost 7 o'clock in the evening. She again phoned Monique and left a voice mail. The charge nurse at the Pavilion told her that Dr. Desmonde had turned over call to the senior psychiatric resident at 6 o'clock that evening. Alex, her frustration mounting, tried to reach Jack. When he didn't answer his cell or text, she called police headquarters and was told that Commander Françoise was unavailable. Alex pressed the watch officer for more information and declared an emergency. The officer finally admitted that the Commander was out of New Orleans for the evening, working on a case somewhere either in Mississippi or Alabama. He wasn't sure. The man offered to put Alex in contact with someone else, but she refused.

  After the phone call, she chided herself, thinking that Monique and Jack were spending a quiet evening alone -- out of New Orleans, probably in an isolated hideaway on the Gulf Coast. That kept her satisfied for a few minutes. If they were together and she was this worried, she would probably murder them herself for not answering her frantic messages and texts.

  Time wore on. Alex didn't like what she was feeling. She was so unsettled, she poured herself a second glass of wine and sat on the sofa in her living room. As her mind clicked through the events of the day, she kept refocusing on the look that Whitset had given Monique in the executive committee meeting. His behavior toward the psychiatrist had chilled her to the bone. It terrified her. It was evident that he was enraged with her. Monique had the power to essentially put Whitset out of work and, more than likely, Whitset knew that as well. This concerned Alex because she didn't think Whitset was normal or rational. His behavior with the Smithsons had been unnerving, particularly that singsong routine she had witnessed. Oh, if only she could reach either Jack or Monique, she would feel so much better. Besides, she knew Monique had found something in Whitset's office and her curiosity was killing her.

  She jumped up when she heard a knock at her door. She ran from the living room to the foyer and felt a twinge of disappointment when she saw Robert on her porch. Well, not disappointment, but she had hoped it was Monique. She opened the door, smiling. Robert looked great. He was impeccably dressed, clean-shaven, and his eyes sparkled at the sight of her. He truly was a hot guy, she thought to herself.

  "Hey, what a surprise! What's up? Have you heard from Monique or Jack?" Her voice sounded strained and she looked stressed.

  Robert looked surprised at her greeting. "No, Alex, why? What's happened? Has something else happened?"

  "Nothing. Nothing really. At least, nothing I know of. I've been trying to reach Monique since right after the meeting this afternoon and I can't find her. The hospital said she turned over her call. She doesn't answer her home phone or her cell and ...." Alex paused for a moment and continued in a concerned voice, "Oh, Robert, I guess I'm frightened for her. I'm afraid Whitset might go after her. He was so angry!”

  Robert nodded in agreement, his face also showing concern. "Yeah, that he was. Have you been able to locate Jack?"

  "No, I've tried. I pressed the watch officer at NOPD. He said Jack was out of the state, that he was investigating over in Alabama or Mississippi. I would think his cell phone would work over there, wouldn't you?" Alex paused for a moment, thinking. "I bet he found something out on Whitset. He said he was going to run a check on him in Alabama!" Alex was breathless for a moment then her face fell.

  “What's the matter, Alex? If he found something out on Whitset, that's good, isn't it?" Robert looked at her intently.

  "Yes, of course it is! I had convinced myself that he and Monique were off on some romantic interlude or something. I guess I'm a hopeless romantic. Heaven knows, they certainly deserve it after today."

  Robert attempted to look cheerful. "Well, maybe they are investigating together. Anyway, I'm sure they're fine. Have you had any dinner?"

  Alex shook her head. "No … would you like for me to make something for us? I could whip us up something simple. Salad or something."

  "I’d be glad to take you out, if you'd like?"

  "No, Robert, thanks. I prefer to stay in. I feel better here, particularly if the phone rings and it's either Jack or Monique. How about a fresh chicken salad and a glass of Pinot Noir?"

  "Well, you know they can reach you on your cell, Alex. But, that being said, chicken salad and wine sounds great. Are you sure I'm not imposing? We could order out," Robert ventured.

  "No, no. It will get my mind off things to be busy in the kitchen. I appreciate the company. I hate to be anxious alone. Come on back to the kitchen."

  Robert and Alex retreated to Alex's newly renovated gourmet kitchen. Robert looked around, once again pleased at how beautifully Alex had renovated her New Orleans home. He reminded himself that he had never really appreciated her talent and abilities when they were married. He guessed he would be sorry for that for the rest of his natural life. He eyed the oak kitchen furniture appreciably and said, "I still love this furniture."

  Alex smiled at him. "Yes, it's beautiful. One of our best purchases …." They both remembered the beautiful fall afternoon when they had purchased the lovely antique oak furniture during a sojourn to the Virgini
a countryside. They had absolutely no money at that point in time. Robert had been a resident at the University of Virginia and she a staff nurse in the ICU at the University hospital. They had fallen in love with the honey colored oak furniture and had purchased it on impulse. Robert had worked three straight weekends in the emergency department at Martha Jefferson Hospital and Alex had worked many overtime shifts to pay for that extravagance. It'd been worth it. They had dined on it during their marriage, and spent many evenings sitting around it talking with good friends. Additionally, the couple used the table as a desk and spent many evenings studying around it together when they were students. The table, chairs, and sideboard were so large they had practically taken up the entire student housing apartment.

  Alex was again remembering their first meal together at the table and how it was followed by a night of splendid and unparalleled passion in their marriage -- the night she became pregnant with the child she later lost. That seemed to start the downward spiral of what she thought was a perfect marriage. She guessed Robert was remembering the same evening. Suddenly, they were interrupted by the shrill ringing of her telephone.

  Alex quickly picked up the receiver. It was Donald Montgomery. She winced at the sound of his whiny voice.

  "Destephano, have you gotten Monique Desmonde straightened out? This shit is bothering me. We can't have her blabbing to the press. Not good for us. Not good at all." Montgomery was whimpering into the phone.

  Alex gritted her teeth and mouthed to Robert that it was Don. "No, Don. I haven't talked with Monique. I've been calling her since right after our meeting. I don't know where she is."

  "Shit, she's probably at home writing her press release. Fix this, Alex. I mean it! Your butt's on the line!"

  Alex could hear the irrational anger beginning to surface in the CEO's voice. "I'll do my best, Don. Did you look at Whitset's contract?" Alex skillfully returned the ball to Montgomery's court.