Finding a Killer Read online

  “Oh,” Betty whined as she watched Mary walk up to the gate and wave her hand at the old man.

  Sam Douglas spotted a beautiful woman wearing a lovely blue and white dress approaching the gate. He lowered his newspaper, checked his gray uniform over, and stood up—very slowly, of course—when a man is seventy-five, his body doesn’t work as well as it once did. “Help you?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  “I’m here to see Albert Malone,” Mary said, feeling a cool breeze grab at her hair.

  “Oh, the funny man,” Sam said and snatched up a clipboard, eyeing Mary with suspicion. “Sign in, please.”

  Mary stared at Sam. “You…know Albert Malone?” she asked.

  “Do I?” Sam replied in a careful voice. “Who doesn’t know Albert Malone by now? He’s a regular guest here.”

  “Really?”

  Sam put down the clipboard and tossed a gray hat over his thin gray hair. “Ma’am, I’ve been working at this hospital for a good many years. Out of all that time, Albert Malone has hardly left the grounds. He leaves only when he feels like leaving…month, maybe two, and then he’s right back here with a big grin on his face.”

  Mary stared at Sam. The old man had a cold, hard face that wasn’t very pleasant to look at. He reminded Mary of a stone statue sitting on top of a tall building staring up at a stormy sky. “Well, Uncle Albert…I mean, Albert Malone, is…somewhat…eccentric.”

  “Eccentric?” Sam snatched up the clipboard again. “That man isn’t eccentric or crazy. He’s as normal as you and me. He just enjoys playing crazy, but I know the truth,” Sam said in a disgusted voice. “But folks come to this hospital on a voluntary basis and they leave just the same. No one is forced to come here, and no one is kept here against their will.” Sam looked over his shoulder. “Costs money to be a guest here, too. This hospital ain’t for the poor. Maybe someday Albert will…have to go someplace else.”

  “Uh…yes, I…see,” Mary said, reaching her hand through the gate and taking the clipboard from Sam. “I suppose.”

  Sam watched Mary sign two names down onto a log-in sheet attached to the clipboard. “Albert Malone ain’t never had no visitors before,” he said in a curious voice. “Wonder why he’s getting visitors now.”

  “Uh…well, I live in Tennessee,” Mary quickly explained, feeling like Sam had thrown her under a bright light bulb. “It’s a long drive from my home. I’m sure that’s the reason,” she finished and handed Sam back the clipboard. The truth was Mary had no idea why Uncle Albert had asked her to visit him. “Are we all set?”

  Sam studied the clipboard. “Visiting hours end at five sharp,” he said and checked his watch. “It’s a little past eleven. You have a few hours.” Sam tossed the clipboard back into the guard box, fished out a set of keys, and unlocked the gate. Mary hurried back to her car and waited until Sam had pulled the gate open, which took a minute due to his age, and then pulled forward. “Guest parking is on the east side. Just follow the road and you’ll spot the parking lot.”

  “Thank you,” Mary said. She drove onto the hospital grounds and began following a narrow one-lane road that slowly looped around the entire hospital and ended back up at the guard box. “Goodness, what a creepy man he was,” Mary told Betty as she eased toward the hospital. The hospital sat in the middle of a green manicured lawn like a gray creature searching for victims. The flowerbeds surrounding the hospital suddenly seemed to clash instead of complement. The lawn itself, although beautiful, seemed to turn into a hideous grin. Of course, Mary realized, her imagination was hard at work transforming a harmless hospital into an ugly nightmare; or so she believed.

  “I don’t like this place, Mary,” Betty confessed, wrapping her arms around the green dress she had chosen to wear; green was a neutral color that was fitting for a hospital, Betty had told Mary, unaware that they were visiting a mental hospital.

  “Uncle Albert said he was a patient at Deep Woods Hospital,” Mary told Betty, following the narrow one-lane road. “I just assumed he was talking about a regular hospital.”

  Betty looked around and shivered. “These types of places scare me,” she admitted. “When I was a little girl, I read a book Mother told me not to read.” Betty closed her eyes. “We were taking a train to see a relative and a man left a book sitting on his seat. Oh, I was very bored and, well, I disobeyed Mother and read the book.”

  “What was the book about?”

  “A real mean man who was locked in a prison,” Betty explained without opening her eyes. “The man, according to the author of the book, was…well, not mentally sound. He managed to capture all the guards and hold them hostage and did all kinds of mean things…” Betty stopped talking. “I didn’t sleep well for a month.”

  “I bet,” Mary said, moving her car past the front of the hospital and looping around to the east side. “There,” she said, pointing to a wooden sign that read “Guest Parking.” Mary hurried her car into a small lot that was completely empty. “I don’t think we’re going to have any trouble parking,” she tried to joke.

  “I suppose not,” Betty said and looked at Mary with worried eyes. “We’ll say hello…visit for a minute…and then drive straight home, right?”

  “Right,” Mary promised, swinging her car into a parking space facing the hospital.

  Betty locked her eyes on the side of the hospital. The building, to her horror, was one long gigantic rectangle that seemed to forever stretch east and west. “Pleasant thoughts,” she said, taking deep breaths, “pleasant thoughts.”

  Mary turned off her car, put the car keys into her purse, and looked at Betty. “Are you going to faint?”

  “Not yet,” Betty assured Mary.

  Mary bit down on her lower lip. “You can sit in the car if you would like.”

  “And be all alone?” Betty said, horrified. “No way. I’m coming with you.”

  Mary patted Betty’s hand. “The sooner we get this over with, the better,” she said and stepped out of her car. Betty quickly followed. “After we visit with Uncle Albert we’ll grab a nice lunch and drive straight home,” she promised. “We should be home no later than five o’clock this evening.”

  “Just in time for supper at the diner,” Betty said in a relieved voice.

  “I believe so.” Mary offered hope. She looked up at the hospital, drew in a brave breath, took Betty’s hand, and left the guest parking lot. “I’m sure everything is going to be fine,” she said, crossing the narrow road and making her way onto a wooden sidewalk that looped back around to the front of the hospital. “I mean, just look how beautiful the grounds are. We’re not exactly back in Maine at that spooky mansion, now are we?”

  “I suppose we aren’t,” Betty agreed, walking under a tall pine tree that was staring down at a lovely flower garden. She spotted a few pine cones lying about and tried to calm her worried mind. “I guess I am letting my imagination run away with me a bit.”

  “That’s my girl.” Mary smiled and walked Betty to the front of the hospital and stopped. A wide stone walkway ended at a set of steps leading up to the front door of the hospital. Mary forced a smile to her face, hurried Betty up the walkway, climbed the stone steps, and stopped at a set of thick wooden doors. She quickly looked to her left, spotted a row of windows lining the building, and then looked to her right and spotted another row of windows. “This isn’t a prison,” she told Betty. “No one is going to lock us inside once we enter.”

  “If you say so, Mary,” Betty replied and raised her head. The bottom floor had windows; the top floor, however, did not. “I guess we should knock?”

  Mary spotted a buzzer resting to the right of the double doors. “I guess so,” she said and gently pressed the buzzer. The buzzer came to life, screamed into the womb of the hospital, and then grew silent. “It might be a minute,” Mary told Betty. While she waited, her eyes studied the lush grounds. “It is very beautiful,” she tried to soothe Betty.

  “Then why is that creepy man looking at us?” Betty asked, n
odding her head toward the guard box. In the far distance Mary spotted Sam glaring at them like a hunter studying two innocent deer. The sight gave Mary the creeps.

  “I’m sure…he’s just curious,” Mary told Betty. “After all, he did say Uncle Albert has never had any visitors before.”

  “You really think that’s all?” Betty asked.

  Mary nodded. “Of course.”

  Before Mary could speak another word, Betty voiced the very thought Mary was thinking: “So why did Uncle Albert ask you to visit him anyway?”

  Mary kept her eyes on Sam. The old man slowly turned his attention back to the guard box, realizing he was now being watched himself, and vanished inside. “Honey, I’m not sure,” Mary confessed. “I don’t want to really know, either. All I want to do is say hello to Uncle Albert, visit for a few minutes, and then leave.”

  “Me, too,” Betty agreed.

  Mary forced her mind back to a diner they drove past. “When we leave this hospital, we’ll drive back to that diner…the Green Tomato Diner I think the name was….and we’ll have us a good lunch, fill our tummies, and drive straight home.”

  Betty focused on the front door. “Well, I am getting hungry,” she confessed. “I’m also in the mood for a cheeseburger. Mother fusses when I don’t have my vegetables, but I think maybe today I’ll have myself a cheeseburger and a malt. What Mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her…that is, if you won’t tell her.”

  “I promise.” Mary smiled, feeling a sense of hope enter her heart. Sure, she thought, they would pay a quick visit to an eccentric old man and then drive away, have a delicious lunch, and make tracks back home.

  Betty kept her eyes on the double doors and waited. A minute later she heard someone begin unlocking the doors. “A quick hello and then home,” she promised herself, forcing hope to return to her scared heart. But her hope quickly ran away screaming when the double doors opened and a gigantic, muscular woman appeared wearing a dark gray nurse’s uniform that resembled a prison outfit. The woman’s face was hard, cruel, and very unfriendly; even her short black hair appeared like vines full of sharp thorns.

  “Yes?”

  “Uh…we’re here to visit with Albert Malone,” Mary said in a quick voice, grabbing Betty’s arm before the woman could faint on her.

  The nurse eyed Mary and Betty with cruel and cautious eyes. “My name is Nurse Greta,” she said in a voice that sounded like a guard dog snapping at an innocent rabbit. “I’m Albert Malone’s daytime nurse. I don’t recall him mentioning any visitors.”

  “I’m…Mary Holland. John Holland is my husband,” Mary said, feeling like Nurse Greta was about to crush her body into dust at any second. “Albert Malone is my husband’s uncle. What I mean to say is that my husband’s aunt married Albert Malone.”

  Greta glared at Mary and then focused her attention on Betty. Betty raised her hand and offered a nervous wave. “Follow me to the front desk,” Nurse Greta finally spoke and moved out of the way of the front door. “Albert is in the music room. I’ll take you to see him after I get you two visitor passes.”

  Mary glanced at Betty. Betty glanced at Mary. They had no idea that what was supposed to be a quick visit was about to turn into a mystery filled with murder.

  “Thank you,” Mary said and stepped into the mouth of a frozen scream with Betty.

  As she did, Sam reappeared and locked his eyes on the hospital. Greta spotted Sam but didn’t say a word. Instead, she closed and locked the front door and led Mary and Betty up to a wooden front desk where she carefully had them sign in and then issued two visitor passes.

  2

  Mary and Betty walked down a long wooden hallway that felt like a museum. It was decorated with beautiful art and furnishings that could have been shipped straight over from England. Antique vases holding fresh red roses sat on lovely polished tables, complementing the hallway’s soft cream-colored walls. Mary was shocked to find the inside of the hospital so…exquisite. She had almost but not quite expected to find a dungeon filled with rusted chains but instead found a rather lovely interior that wasn’t frightening at all. As a matter of fact, the interior of the hospital was quite…well, cozy, even if the interior did feel like a museum.

  “That creepy old man wasn’t kidding when he said you had to be rich to stay here,” Mary whispered to Betty.

  Betty, relieved to find a normal hospital setting instead of a horror trap, looked around as she followed Nurse Greta down the hallway. “My, it sure is beautiful. And will you look at this hardwood floor…the polish is simply amazing.”

  Mary glanced down and saw her reflection. “It’s very nice,” she agreed, walking past a door that had the words “Art Room” carved into the wood work in fancy lettering. She heard muffled voices coming from inside. The voices sounded normal.

  “Here,” Greta spoke in a stern voice, stopping in front of a door with the words “Music Room” carved in the same fancy lettering.

  Mary stopped and listened. Someone was inside the Music Room playing a piano. The music drifted out into the hallway on soft, delicate wings and caressed Mary’s heart. “Beautiful,” she whispered.

  “Not after you’ve heard the same song a hundred times,” Greta complained. “Albert Malone always plays the same song, at the same hour of the day, every day, over and over and over.” Greta glared at Mary and Betty and focused back on the moment. “I don’t recall Albert making any phone calls.”

  “Uncle Albert called me yesterday,” Mary explained. “It was pretty early in the morning. I hadn’t even made my breakfast yet.”

  Greta glanced at the Music Room door, made a sour face, and then looked back at Mary. “I have rounds to make. I’ll be back in half an hour to check on you.”

  “Half an hour,” Mary said and forced a weak smile to her face. Greta made another sour face and walked away. As soon as the woman was out of hearing distance Mary grabbed Betty’s hand and dragged her into the Music Room. “Inside, hurry,” she begged.

  “I’m hurrying,” Betty assured Mary and ran into a large room that reminded her of a concert hall. “Oh my,” she gasped.

  Albert Malone raised his head up from a grand piano that sat on a waist-high wooden stage that ran the length of the room. When he spotted Mary and Betty, his face beamed with pleasure. “Ah, Mary, you have arrived,” he said and clapped his hands together. “And I see you brought your lovely friend Betty.”

  Mary quickly closed the door. When she spotted Albert sitting at the grand piano wearing a tuxedo with his gray hair slicked back to perfection, well, she simply didn’t know what to say. “Uh…hello, Uncle Albert,” were the only words that could form.

  Albert stood up, took a polite bow, and sat back down. “My greetings,” he said and began playing the piano again.

  Betty eased over to Mary. “Mary?” she whispered.

  “I know, I know,” Mary whispered back and then ran her eyes around the room. The walls of the room were made of a dark, glossy hardwood that cried of money, just like everything else in the place. The floor was covered with what appeared to be a red velvet carpet. Instruments of all kinds were methodically placed in brilliant locations staring down at two rows of soft sitting chairs that Mary assumed were meant for guests. “Let’s sit down until he finishes.”

  “Okay,” Betty agreed and followed Mary over to a row of chairs and sat down. “It’s a lovely room,” she whispered, “and look at that stained-glass window.”

  A large, oval stained-glass window stood behind the grand piano, allowing gray light to bathe the room. Mary imagined a bright sun in her mind throwing powerful beams of white light through the stained-glass window, covering the piano with unimaginable beauty. “It’s very beautiful.”

  Albert continued to play his mysterious song. As he did, Mary noticed that a sudden melancholy expression had replaced his usual comedic face. It was as if the man was being transported back in time to a place of tragedy that he had never shared with anyone—a place that only his own heart was awar
e of; a place guarded against people. When Albert finished his song, he let out a low sigh, closed his eyes, whispered something Mary couldn’t make out, and then smiled. “Well,” he said and clapped his hands, “that is that.” Albert quickly stood up, hurried off the stage, and walked to Mary and Betty. “No autographs,” he teased and took a seat beside Mary.

  “Uh…the song you played was very beautiful,” Mary said, staring into Albert’s plump round face that held the brightest blue eyes and rosiest red cheeks she had ever seen.

  “A song that is my own.” Albert smiled. He looked at Betty. “How is your mother?” he inquired. “Is she still upset over the spider?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Betty confessed, feeling like she was walking on a wobbly table. Back home, when Albert had visited, she had been able to speak with him normally. But now, because the poor man was resting in a mental hospital, Betty wasn’t sure how to speak with Albert.

  Albert noticed Betty’s struggle and let out a merry laugh. “Oh, how one is treated when others perceive him as…shall I say…odd.” Albert leaned back his head and laughed again. “Because I am insane, those I love must dance in the rain. But not now, not today, we’ll wait for another time when the sun isn’t so stubborn and the dance of craziness can only last but for a mere second or two. After all, one can’t remain insane forever, now can he?”

  “I…suppose not?” Betty answered and winced. “Oh, I’m sorry…I…it’s…”

  Albert laughed again. “It’s a new world to a protected mind,” he told Betty and then looked at Mary. “Isn’t that right?”

  “I guess,” Mary agreed and looked around the room again. “At least it’s not a dungeon.”

  “Indeed,” Albert told Mary and took her hands into his own. “I am very pleased that you have come, my love,” he said.

  “I’m…pleased to be here,” Mary replied, and then her shoulders slumped. “Oh, Uncle Albert, that’s a lie. I’m not pleased to be here. I’m not even sure why you asked me to visit you. The guard out front said you never had any visitors before. So forgive me for being a tad confused.”