“Yes, really.”
“I’m not sure how can I help you. Our records are confidential, so there would be very little I could tell you.”
“Certainly, you could just look up these names and see if any of the women have a connection with the hospital?”
“The names?” she peered over the top of the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.
“Martha Quigley, Remy Thurston-Moore and Zelda Wing.”
With a grim expression on her face, the administrator lowered her half glasses to the bottom of her nose, then turned to the keyboard where she typed into her computer. She watched the screen for a few moments, then turned back to the investigators with a shrewd look on her face, as if she was trying to determine exactly what to say to the detectives.
“Yes. Remy Thurston was a patient here for two years. I do remember her, she was discharged in stable mental health five years ago. Martha Quigley was an attendant here for nearly a year. I remember her as a capable employee. However, she had career plans outside the medical field.”
“Were the two women here at the same time?” Robin asked.
“Yes, they were. In fact, they left within days of each other, but that would appear to be coincidental since they were in different sections of the hospital. I doubt they had any contact, if that’s what you’re trying to establish.”
“How about Zelda Wing?”
“Our records show that she was also here as an aide, although for a very short term.”
“And that was during Remy’s stay?” Robin asked.
The administrator turned back to the computer. “Yes. At the very beginning she worked on the ward where Remy was assigned. But she was here only about five months.”
“At the same time Martha Quigley was here?”
“No, she left several months before Martha joined us.”
“I see,” Robin went on, “could you tell us the nature of Remy’s illness?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. The courts might be able to open my files, but I’m rather a stickler for rules. If you had a warrant, then I might help you more.” She was overtly edgy and unwilling to talk more. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet someone in the dining room.”
“I’ll say she’s a stickler for rules,” Leslie said sarcastically, as the two detectives walked out of the building. “She certainly wouldn’t want to be out on a limb to be useful in an investigation.”
“You’re right,” Robin agreed. “But we did establish that Remy and Martha likely met here, not at school. That’s getting us somewhere. It seems our dour shrinking-violet Remy has a past that bears more looking into. Maybe we have the beginnings of Remy and Zelda’s friendship, though I wonder what would bring them together so quickly in a place like this, especially with Remy being a patient.”
“I wish we had more,” Leslie mused.
They stood together in the parking lot for some minutes, Robin looking as if her brain was working overtime on the solution to their impasse.
“Wait. Why don’t you give me a minute,” Robin suddenly said. “I have a plan.” She smiled and took off. Leslie watched her partner quickly dump her jacket in the back of the truck, along with the red cap she was wearing. She hastily swished her blonde hair free and revealed a woman in a white blouse and baggy navy pants that would hardly stand out in any crowd. She could even pass for someone who belon
ged on the hospital grounds, which was exactly what Robin intended. She left Leslie standing by the car and walked toward the footpath that ran through the well-manicured lawns.
There had always been a little bit of an actress in Robin, which was now emerging again. Leslie watched her partner, admiringly as she appraised the landscape carefully, thoughtfully eying a number of patients and aides. She finally approached an older female aide who was sitting on a bench, eating lunch. Leslie knew right away that Robin had picked the woman for her jovial personality; she looked every bit like the gossipy kind of female who would spill everything she knew as long as someone paid attention to her stories.
“You hear about the murder down south?” Robin asked the bubbly grayed haired woman, after the two had exchanged pleasantries. The woman’s eyes lit up immediately. Robin was pleased to see a twenty-five year pin proudly displayed on the lapel of the white uniform, along with a name tag reading Joan Barnes, LPN. Her thick glasses assured Robin that she wouldn’t be easily recognizing people by sight.
“I sure did, noticed the names right off. Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, that Martha Quigley. She was an interesting one from the beginning. Kind of odd, but pleasant enough. And she wasn’t one of those girls that hardly lifts a finger around here. She was kinda of strange though, the way she got all attached to that girl, she was always doting over her like some mother hen. It was really funny if you ask me. What was that girl’s name again, funny name.” The woman screwed up her face trying to think.
“You remember the girl, the patient?” Robin asked.
“Not real well, she was in another ward. I guess she only knew Martha, because Martha put in some extra time, doing research of some sort with the violent ones.”
“Violent ward?” Robin concealed her alarm and without missing a beat, added, “I’m surprised the two weren’t suspects in the murder.”
“That is amazing. Although it’s hard to picture that girl being violent, even when she was here. Few times I saw her, I remember her being real sweet, kinda quiet though. But you know those quiet ones.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, I thought about calling the police when I saw they arrested the lover of the murdered lady. You think they’d know about that girl, what was her name again?”
