Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #7)

“Jessie,” I said.

She turned back to look as we were marched away. Had she remembered me? I wondered. And would she be glad to see me? Maybe she blamed me for delivering her to her tormentors. Maybe she’d want nothing to do with me.

When we came inside with stinging cheeks and numb fingers we were put to work at housekeeping tasks. Making beds, sweeping floors, washing floors. In the middle I was called over and taken to a small room where a young man sat at a table.

“I’m Dr. Field,” he said. “And what is your name?”

It suddenly occurred to me that maybe all those inmates who couldn’t or wouldn’t communicate were in one room. I stared at him blankly.

“You don’t want to talk today?”

I kept on staring.

“You’re not a princess today then? Who are you?”

I remained silent.

“Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

No response.

“Interesting,” he said, scribbling something on a sheet of paper. “Complete withdrawal. Shutting herself off from a situation she doesn’t like. We’ll try again another day. Nurse, take her to Dr. Meyer’s ward. He might be interested in her.”

I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. I allowed myself to be led away. Out of the main building, across a courtyard, and up some steps. Then into another dreary room, as cold and bleak as the first one. The sound of coughing greeted me.

“New?” a stone-faced nurse asked my escorts. “Violent?”

“Wouldn’t communicate this morning. Delusional yesterday. The doctor thought Dr. Meyer might want to take a look at her, when he gets back.”

“All right. Leave her here. Well, don’t just stand there,” she said to me. “Find a place and sit down.”

I wandered aimlessly around the room and found myself staring at Jessie. She was curled up in a corner, hugging her knees to her, her head buried in her hands. I sat beside her. She didn’t stir. At last an orderly came to the door. “Bring out Rodriguez. The doctors want to take a look at her,” he said.

As the nurse dragged a bewildered-looking woman up from the floor, I leaned closer to Jessie.

“Jessie?” I whispered. “It’s Molly. Remember me?”

I saw disbelieving eyes turning in my direction, a flash of recognition, then a warning sign in her eyes. I thought I saw her mouth “don’t know me,” before her head sank into her hands again.

I sat quietly beside her. Occasionally she glanced at me. I longed to talk to her and reassure her but the stone-faced woman’s eyes were constantly on us. After a long morning we were summoned to the dining room. Down the steps, across the courtyard, and into the dining hall. In the confusion I drew close behind her.

“I’ve come to save you,” I said in her ear. “I’ll get you out of here, I promise.”

I heard her intake of breath so I knew she had heard and understood me. Unfortunately, she was shunted away from me at table. Lunch was a piece of plain boiled fish and a potato. Again it was hard to swallow but at least nobody from this new room tried to grab my portion.

After lunch we were marched back. Some inmates dozed in the afternoon, curled up like animals on the benches or the floor. There was no form of entertainment provided for us, no reading material, no sewing. A person committed here really would go mad soon, I realized. I looked around the room, wondering how many women truly belonged in a place like this and how many were committed by families who wanted them out of the way. I saw how easily the staff had accepted the Sicilians’ word that they were Jessie’s relatives and how they had needed no proof that I was insane before I was carted away.

Jessie was either sleeping or pretending to. Suddenly the door was thrown open and two male orderlies came in. One was carrying a large can. “Louse patrol,” one shouted. “Line up. Come on. Move it.”

Our nurse went around prodding and pushing us into a line. I was a good way from Jessie. Each person had her scalp inspected. Those that failed were sent to the bathroom, where I suspect they would be doused with whatever was in the can. When the male orderly came to Jessie I watched in disbelief as his hands slid down from her head and one of them disappeared inside the front of her shift. She recoiled in horror and tried to pull his hand away. The orderly merely laughed and fondled her breasts more aggressively. He had a horrible piggy face and a mouth with missing teeth.

I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to speak. I leaped out of that line and flung myself at the orderly.

“Leave her alone, you filthly lout,” I shouted. “Take your hands off her right now.”