"This should only take a second or two," Lucy said. '
"Well, I'll see if I can work you in. Have a seat." The secretary didn't make an effort to change position, or even pick up the telephone until Lucy moved away from the desk and plopped herself down onto a lumpy waiting room couch.
She kept her eyes directly on Miss Luscious, boring into her with intensity, until the secretary finally tired of the scrutiny, picked up the office phone and turned away from Lucy as she spoke. There was a brief exchange, and then the secretary turned and said, "The doctor can see you now," an almost comical cliche, given the circumstances, Lucy thought.
Doctor Gulptilil was standing behind his desk, staring out at the tree just beyond the glass. He cleared his throat as she entered, but remained in his position, not moving, as she hovered waiting for the physician to acknowledge her presence. After a moment or two, he turned, and with a small shake of his head, slumped down into his seat.
"Miss Jones," he said cautiously, "Your arrival here is most fortuitous, for it saves me the trouble of summoning you."
"Summoning me?"
"Indeed," Gulptilil said. "For I have recently been in contact with your boss, the Suffolk County prosecutor. And he is, shall we say, most curious about your presence here, and your progress." He leaned back with a crocodilian smile. "But you have a request for me? That has brought you to this office?"
"Yes," she replied slowly. "I would like the names and files for all the patients in Williams, in the second-floor dormitory, and if possible, the locations of their beds, so that I can connect names, diagnosis, and location."
Doctor Gulptilil nodded, still smiling. "Yes. This would be from the dormitory that is in such upheaval now, thanks to your prior inquiries?"
"Yes."
"The turmoil you have already created will take some time to settle down. If I do give you this information, will you promise me that before engaging in any other activities in that area of the hospital, you will inform me first?"
Lucy gritted her teeth together. "Yes. In fact, I would like to have that entire location searched."
"Searched? You mean you want to go through and inspect what few private things those patients own?"
"Yes. I believe there remains hard criminal evidence available, and I have reason to believe that some might be located in that dormitory, so I would like your permission to search it."
"Evidence? And upon what do you base this supposition?"
Lucy hesitated, then said, "I have been reliably informed that one of the patients in that area was in possession of a bloodstained shirt. The nature of the wound to Short Blond suggests that whoever committed the crime would have clothing marred with her blood."
"Yes. That would make sense. But didn't the police discover some bloody items on poor Lanky when he was arrested?"
"My belief is that those modest amounts were transferred by another person to his body."
Doctor Gulptilil smiled. "Ah," he said. "Of course. Transferred by this latter-day Jack the Ripper. A criminal genius, no, sorry, I apologize. That's not the word. A criminal mastermind. Right here in our mental hospital. No? Farfetched and unlikely, but an explanation that would permit your inquiries to persist. And of this alleged bloody shirt… might I see it?"
"It is not in my control."
He nodded his head. "Somehow, Miss Jones, I anticipated your response to that question. So, were I to allow this search you request, would this not create some legal problems with any potential items seized?"
"No. This is a state hospital, and you have the right to search any area for contraband or any banned substance or item. I would merely ask you to engage in that routine, within my presence."
Gulptilil rocked in his chair for a moment. "So, now, suddenly, you believe my staff and I can be of some assistance?"
"I don't know that I understand the implication in what you say," she responded, which was, of course, a lawyer's lie, for she understood completely what he was saying.
Doctor Gulptilil obviously saw the same thing, for he sighed. "Ah, Miss Jones, your lack of trust for the staff here is most discouraging. Regardless, I will arrange for the search, as you request, if only to help persuade you of the folly of your inquiries. And the names and the bedding arrangements at Williams, these, too, I can provide. And then, perhaps, we can conclude your stay here."
She remembered what Francis had asked, and so she added, "One other thing. Might I have the list of patients scheduled for release hearings this week? If it's not a burden…"
He looked askance at her. "Yes. I can give you that, as well. As part of my efforts to support your inquiries, I will have my secretary provide these documents." The doctor had the ability to easily make a lie seem like the truth, a quality that Lucy Jones found unsettling. "Although, I am not sure what possible connection our regularly scheduled release hearings might have to your inquiry. Would you be willing to connect those particular dots for me, Miss Jones?"
"I'd rather not, not quite yet."
"Your response doesn't surprise me," he said stiffly. "Still, I will get the list you request."
She nodded her head. "Thank you," and started to leave.
Gulptilil held up his hand. "But there is something I must ask of you, Miss Jones."
"What is that, Doctor?"
"You are to call your supervisor. The gentleman that I had such a pleasant conversation with not so long ago. Now)j would wager, would be a good moment for that call to take place. Allow me."
He reached down and turned the telephone on his desk toward her, so that she could dial. He made no effort to leave.
Lucy's ears still rang with the admonitions of her boss. A waste of time and just spinning your wheels had been the least of his complaints. The most insistent was Show some real progress promptly, or else get back here as soon as possible. There had been an angry litany of the cases on her desk that were piling up, unattended, matters that demanded urgent attention. She had tried to explain to him that the mental hospital was an unusual place to try to conduct an investigation, and not the sort of atmosphere that lent itself to the usual tried-and-true techniques, but he wasn't very interested in hearing these excuses. Come up with something in the next few days, or we're going to pull the plug. That had been the last thing he'd said. She wondered how much her boss had been poisoned by his earlier conversation with Gulptilil, but it was irrelevant. He was a blustery, devil-may-care, hell-bent Boston Irishman, and when persuaded that there was something to pursue, was single-minded in his intensity, a quality that got him reelected over and over again. But he was just as quick to drop an inquiry, as soon as it hit his rather low tolerance for frustration, which, she thought, was a political expediency, but didn't help her much.