The Three Dollar Phoenix by Walt Sautter (microsoft ebook reader .TXT) 📕

with Al and this hospital was the best place for him.”
“Well, what was the matter with him?” asked Ed again.
“He didn’t tell me. Just that he should go to this new hospital.”
She paused and drew a deep breath.
“Dr. Bennett, you have to find out what’s going on with my Al” she pleaded tearfully.
Al had been sent to the Caramore Clinic up around Ellensville. Ed had heard of the place but didn’t know much about it. They had told Angie that he would be there for an “extended time.” That was hospital lingo for not being sure when he would be released.
As he drove back towards Newark he tried to remember what he could about Caramore Clinic. He seemed to recall, reading something about it in a magazine someplace.
When Ed arrived, he was greeted by a chorus of shrill screams. He opened the door just in time to see Rita withdrawing a hypodermic needle from a three year olds bottom while the child’s mother struggled to hold him still. He walked over to his desk and obviously searched through the pile of notes and messages lying there. There were about ten in all and none of them from Alpert.
Rita had finished with her unappreciative patient.
“Did you ever hear of Caramore Clinic in Ellensville, New York?” he asked her.
She thought for a moment.
“Isn’t that the place where they dry out movie stars and politicians?” she responded.
Ed paused, then his face lit up.
“That’s it. I knew I read about it recently. I thought I read about it in a medical journal but it was one of those movie star mags in the barber shop. That was the place they put the rock group ‘The Slugs’. All of them were druggies and they all signed up at once to get straight at Caramore. They played a concert at the place the day they were released and it made the paper and the magazine.”
“Why are you interested in it?” asked Rita.
“That’s a big money operation: It costs big bucks to stay there” she added.
“That’s where they’ve got Al Druse, the guy Charlie and I tried to visit last night at St. Anne’s. His wife just told me” replied Ed.
Why was Al in a drug rehab hospital? Angie didn’t mention anything about drugs or booze, but then, of course, he didn’t ask either. If he did have a habit, why didn’t Alpert just tell me, thought Ed? And why did somebody put him a place like Caramore that costs thousands and is all the way up in New York state and even more puzzling is who’s paying for it? It sure isn’t Angie from what Ed could see.
Ed picked up the phone and dialed Alpert’s number.
He’d waited long enough. After a customary greeting from the receptionist, and a long pause, Alpert answered.
“Dr. Bennett, I tried to reach you this morning. Your phone was busy. You were interested in Albert Druse, one of my patients. I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you yesterday but the office was very busy and this requires some time. Mr. Druse came to me last week complaining of nausea and fatigue. I sent him for several tests. Upper and lower GI, blood work, urine and so forth.”
Alpert spoke in along string of unbroken sentences with little or no pause separating them. It sounded like a sixth grader reciting his part on the opening night of the school play.
“His condition persisted so I admitted him to St. Anne’s” he continued, still in a rehearsed tone.
“How did he wind up at Caramore?” Ed interrupted.
“The second day he was at the hospital, the hospital administrator called me and said that his staff physicians had reviewed the case and decided it was best to move him up there.”
“Did you request a review of the case?” asked Ed.
“No” replied Alpert.
“I was told Mrs. Druse had requested that” he added.
“Did Mr. Druse have a drug problem, drugs or alcohol?”
“Not that I know of” said Alpert
“May I see his records and test results? I’ll get authorization form the patient’s wife if you like” said Ed.
“I don’t have them.”
“Who does?”
“A representative from the state medical examiner’s office called me the day Mr. Druse was to be moved and asked for all records”
“Isn’t that a bit unusual?” asked Ed.
“Well, that’s not for me to say” replied Alpert. He spoke more calmly now.
“Don’t you have the originals?”
“Two days after the state call me about the records, my office was robbed. I never even really got a chance to take a good look at them. I knew the patient had been removed from my care and so I didn’t see any point in rushing to look at the results.”
“You were robbed?” repeated Ed in a surprised voice.
“Patient records were stolen?” he added.
“Some drugs and records” said Alpert.
“That’s a strange combination. Why would a druggie steal patient records?” asked Ed.
“I think the drugs were a try to cover the break in. The records they took looked like somebody just took a couple of handful Is. Maybe that was because the night watchman interrupted them and they were in too much of a rush to just select the file they wanted. If the watchman hadn’t come they could have just taken the one file and no one would have known until he looked for that particular file. Up until then the whole thing would have been a drug theft. If a long time passed between the robbery and the discovery of the missing file who would even relate the two?” said Alpert.
“And Druse was in one of the handfuls that were taken?” said Ed.
“Right. That’s why when you called yesterday and asked about him it took me by surprise. That combined with all the other incidents involving this guy. I called the County Medical Association to see who you were. To be honest the whole thing is getting nerve racking. The robbery, cops, calls from the state. I didn’t want to be talking to the wrong people, so I checked.”
“What was wrong with Druse?” asked Ed.
“I really don’t know. Like I said I never really even got a chance to look at the test results” said Alpert.
As Ed ended his conversation with Alpert he at least understood Alpert’s reluctance to talk with him the day before. The circumstances surrounding the whole situation, however had become even more perplexing.
The next day he called the state Medical Examiner’s Office. He wasn’t quite sure to whom he should speak. They didn’t have anyone in charge of stolen records or mysteriously transferred patients. Alpert wasn’t sure of the title of the inspector who had picked up the papers from him, but he did remember his name, Bickford. No one named Bickford worked for the examiner’s office according to them. His call to Caramore didn’t help either. They said that they couldn’t discuss any patients on the phone and they wouldn’t even acknowledge Druse’s being there. That of course, was what Ed might have expected from a high class, private rehab hospital like Caramore.

Chapter III

It was a cold, clear morning as Ed pulled up in front of 196 Selma St. He rang the bell. Within seconds Angie appeared with a small shopping bag and her purse tucked under her arm. She greeted him as she pulled the door closed behind her and rattled the handle to check its security. They got into the car and headed north towards Ellensville. It was about a two and one half hour ride ahead of them. The scenery was beautiful as the traveled up the Thruway and Angie proved to be an interesting conservationist despite her accent.
Al had been a schoolboy athlete, All-State in football. He attended college for two years but a knee injury ended any aspirations he had for the big time. His cousin in California lined up a job for him on the grounds crew at Oakland after he dropped out of college and he worked there for five years. He and Angie met out there and they were married about the time her mother got sick. She was originally from New Jersey and her mother still lived in Union City at the time. Al got the job at Giant Stadium so they could come back and help take care of her. She died shortly after they returned, about three years ago. They decided to stay here instead of going back to California. The weather isn’t the best but Al liked the new job and it was too expensive to move back again.
Al’s troubles began on and off about two years ago. He would get sick to his stomach and it would last for a couple of days. That happened three or four times. Angie said he had gone to the doctor when it first started. They told him he had the beginnings of a stomach ulcer. Recently, he felt sick almost every day, sick and drained out. The medicine for the ulcer didn’t seem to help this time.
That’s when she insisted that he go back to the doctor.
When she saw him at the hospital, last week, he said he was feeling a little better, but he had lost about fifteen pounds. She hadn’t spoken to Al for a week now. His room was in a special area where phones weren’t allowed, she had been told. She did write a letter though. She didn’t get an answer yet.
Ellensville was a small New York town. Route 57 was its main street, lined with a quarter mile of shops and stores, a couple of gas stations and the local bank. The Catskills cradled it like huge white, snow covered hands. Caramore was at the far end of the town.
A large iron gate with the words “Caramore Clinic” formed an arch over the entrance. Attached to the gate was a high iron picket fence stretching for five hundred yards in both directions. The buildings were faintly visible in the distance. They drove to the guard house which was attended by two men wearing police like uniforms.
“We’ve come to visit a patient” Ed announced.
“Who’s the patient?” asked the guard.
“Al Druse” replied Ed. He picked up a clip board and scanned list for the name. Upon finding it, he walked to the front of the car, wrote down the license plate number and returned to Ed.
“May I see your driver’s license, sir?” he said. I’ll need some identification for the lady too.”
Ed reluctantly withdrew his wallet, removed his license and handed it to him. Angie passed over her social security card.
“Please sign here” said the guard as he thrust the clip board and pen toward the open car window.
“Drive straight ahead, building A-3, parking on the right” he said as they signed.
Ed rolled up the window and slowly pulled away.
“You were here last week, right?”
“Yes” replied Angie.
“Who brought you up?”
“My sister, Theresa” she said.
“Did you have to show any ID or sign anything?”
“No, they only wrote down the plate number and asked who we wanted to visit. That was all.”
They parked where the guard had told them and entered A-3. The building was old. It had to be fifty of seventy-five years old Ed estimated, but it was well cared for. The entire complex consisted of five or