Mitt straightened upon hearing the name Robert Pendleton. It seemed that Pendleton’s sources and Lashonda’s were one and the same, which only fanned his interest.
“Somehow the hospital administrator thwarted the publication of the records, but the episode underlined the need to deal with them, at least in the short term. To do so, he turned to my mother with whom he was particularly close. He asked her to hide them along with a promise she would never give them to anyone, ever.”
“Why on earth did a hospital administrator turn to your mother?”
“Exactly why, I have no idea other than their mutual respect. I guess there was some confusion about what to do with them, as they were probably seen as a potential public relations nightmare, although I suppose he was reluctant to take the responsibility of destroying them. Ultimately it was also a reflection of the long relationship between my family and the hospital administration, particularly this specific administrator.”
“Where did she hide them? Can you tell me that?”
“Of course. She hid them in the housekeeping storeroom with all the cleaning supplies in the basement of the Psychopathic Hospital. At that time the Psychopathic Hospital was still very much in use.”
“You mean the Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital, the one that’s still standing essentially empty next door?”
“Yes. And the entire trove of records is still there. They have been there since 1975, when your ancestor retired. It was my mother who moved them out of his office during the night. At that time, she was the night-shift housekeeping supervisor just like I am today.”
“And these records have never been moved?”
“Only once, and that was when Hurricane Sandy happened. It was then that my mother told me about them. Up until that moment, I had no idea of their existence. She asked me to help her move them to avoid the flooding, which we did. At that time, she made me promise I would honor her pledge to leave them where they were and not to give them to anyone unless told by the administration to do otherwise. She was a woman of her word, as am I.”
“What about the hospital administrator that originally asked her to hide them? Is he still on the hospital staff?”
“Oh no, he’s long gone. He passed away before my mother.”
“And you still feel obligated to honor your mother’s vow?”
“Of course. Vows are not time dependent.”
“When you moved the records for the hurricane, where did you take them?”
“Just a few floors up, locking them in an empty hospitality office on the third floor.”
“Are they still there?”
“No. When we could, maybe a month later, we returned them down to the basement. It was my mother’s idea. They’d been safe there since she’d hidden them, and she felt strongly they should be returned.”
“Does anyone in administration today know about their existence?”
“I don’t have any idea. I only found out about them just hours before the hurricane in 2012. After we returned them to their original hiding place, we never talked about them again. I had the distinct feeling my mother wished to leave the subject alone, so I never brought it up.”
“If someone was to go into the old psychiatric building today, might they stumble across these records?” The more he thought about this mysterious stash, the more he wanted to read through them and find out for certain what kind of doctors his relatives had been and whether they warranted the kudos extended to them by his family. And equally as important, especially if he was a “portal” as Lashonda suggested, Mitt wanted to know whether any Bellevue paranormal beings might have reason to harass him, which unfortunately seemed to be the case. What ultimately convinced him he had to see these records was the disturbing death of all seven of his assigned patients, particularly the most recent death of Diego Ortiz. Such a bevy of strange occurrences lent credence to everything Lashonda was saying, most significantly the possibility that Bellevue was not where he should be for his surgical training.
“It’s doubtful someone would come across them unless they were specifically looking for them,” Lashonda was saying. “First of all, there’d be no reason for anyone to suspect they are there, as the building had been emptied of all records years ago even though a lot of its old furniture and outdated equipment are still there. Besides, access to the building itself is restricted other than to the small portion that is being used as a homeless shelter. Even getting into the main portion of the building isn’t easy, as it is secured under lock and key, as you can imagine, especially of late with the concern raised about the enormous amount of toxic asbestos used in its construction. And the basement is probably the last place someone would go. Like any basement, it is hardly inviting. So, to answer your question, I’d have to say no.”
“What about the building being repurposed and renovated? I know it hasn’t happened yet, but that can’t go on forever. Wouldn’t it be better to move the documents to a safer location to honor your commitment to your mother? I’m certain between the two of us, we could find another place, say in a housekeeping storage area of your choosing here in the high-rise.” Mitt knew his motive was devious, but he had in mind to offer to help Lashonda move the records to a new location, which would give him access.
“It’s passed through my mind,” Lashonda admitted. “But the building seems to have a remarkable staying power, including avoiding a planned conversion into a luxury hotel and medical conference center just two or three years ago.”
“I’d heard something about that idea,” Mitt said. “It is prime real estate right here in the middle of hospital row. Doesn’t the risk support my idea of moving the records?”
“Yes and no,” Lashonda said. “The hotel conversion was a good idea, and most everyone agreed it was a good idea. So why didn’t it happen?”
“I certainly don’t know why, but it sounds to me that you have an idea.”
“I do indeed,” Lashonda said. “It’s the last major building of the old Bellevue Hospital complex left standing. All the others have seen the wrecking ball to make way for the high-rise. What that has meant is that all the ghosts, demons, and phantoms born out of the hospital’s three-hundred-year history have moved into the old psychiatric building to take up permanent residence, and they are obviously a force to be reckoned with. I wouldn’t have said this to anyone else, but I’ll say it to you. I believe they have succeeded in thwarting past proposals.”
Again, Mitt studied Lashonda’s face for a few beats, looking for a slight smile or some other indication that she was teasing him. But he saw no trace. It was obvious she was being perfectly serious. Since he had been specifically questioning the building’s abandoned state whenever he’d passed the structure and had come up with zero explanation, he felt he had to give the paranormal idea significant weight.
“It’s my feeling that the records couldn’t be in a safer place than where they currently are,” Lashonda said. “If that changes in the future, I’ll make adjustments.”
Mitt nodded, still staring at Lashonda while his mind wrestled with how he was going to manage to see these hidden records. If worse came to worst, he considered just trying to break into the place and searching the basement that afternoon when he was off for the July 4 holiday. But he could think of lots of reasons why that was a bad idea, starting with possibly being caught by hospital security, who undoubtedly kept the building under surveillance. Besides, the basement was obviously a huge space with lots of nooks and crannies. That meant he could make the risky effort of getting into the building and never find the records. Then, all at once, he had another, better idea.