The Doctor's Casebook Pt. 02 Ch. 01

"Shut up!" I barked. I muttered my math out loud. "Your one, plus three in the bottle and three in her hand. Twenty-four minus seven is seventeen, times fifteen ... more than 250 milligrams. Too much. Unless ..."

I turned to the unconscious blonde, hoisted her into a sitting position, and I pinched her again.

"OUCH! Stop doing that!" She stared at me with unfocused eyes. "Who ARE you?"

"I am your doctor. Now, listen to me, or I'll pinch you again! When did you take these? Did the pills work right away?"

Her brow furrowed. "No ... not well enough. So, I ... um ... took some more." She concentrated harder. "And ... um ... some more. I think." She spotted her sister over my shoulder. "Oh, Sherrie! Please ... please ... tell ... Bryon ..."

But I was already up and moving toward the kitchen, dialing 911 on my cell phone. "I'm Doctor Randall Herringwick," I barked when the operator picked up. "I have a Temazepam poisoning at 138 Spruce, apartment 303. Send an ambulance immediately," and I hung up. I was now standing in front of an open refrigerator, smiling. They were vegans! What luck! Not an ounce of meat anywhere. And vegans always have something ... I found a small plate of leftover asparagus (perfect!) and snatched a small handful before grabbing a jar of hot mustard. I found a glass in a cupboard and used the base of it to mash the asparagus tips to a slimy sludge, then I used my finger to scoop it up off the counter and deposit it into the glass. I added a couple spoonfuls of mustard, then unscrewed the top of a salt shaker and poured half of its contents into the glass, as well. The water in the tap was almost instantly hot when I turned it on (thank God for water circulators in commercial buildings). I located a teaspoon in a drawer, and I stirred the stuff in the glass for a few seconds while walking to a bathroom, where I picked up a small plastic wastebasket.

Moving back into the living room, I upended the trash container, scattering the trash on the floor, flipping the spoon I was using away, as well, then setting the empty rubbish receptacle down. Again, I backhandedly pushed Sherrie away from her sister; then I savagely pinched my patient yet again.

"OUCH!" She started crying. "Oh, please stop doing that! Please!"

I shifted my body to her side, and wrapped my left arm around her upper body, trapping it to my own, my palm against her throat and lower jaw. Using my thumb, I pushed until her mouth opened, and I tilted the glass high above and against her lips. "ULB!" she sputtered as the concoction filled her mouth. I massaged her throat from top to bottom, and was rewarded as her throat muscles contracted and she swallowed. Her whole body heaved as the slime hit her upper esophagus. I kept stroking her neck. "One more, Merrie. One more gulp." I waited while her body bucked and strained for one more second, and then I pulled her forward onto her hands and knees, her face just above the trash can.

She vomited loudly and voluminously. While I held her head down, I turned to Sherrie. "I need a clear, plastic zipper bag from the kitchen. Get one for me." She looked at me like I was a creature from another planet. Her gaze kept going from my face to her sister. "GO!" I yelled. And she turned and sprinted away.

By the time the paramedics knocked on the door, Merrie had finished the last of her dry heaves and looked up at me with bleary eyes. "Oh, God, that was awful," she moaned. "I wish you had just kept pinching me, instead!" She studied me for a moment. "You're not my doctor! Who ARE you?"

"Wadda we have here?" a burly woman in uniform asked, interrupting us.

"She took seventeen Temazepam 15-milligram tablets," I said, then held up the stinking, gooey mess from the trash can in the clear plastic bag. "Eight of them came back up whole. Six more, partially digested. Thank God they weren't thirties."

"Who are you?" she asked, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Merrie's left arm.

"Her psychiatrist."

"Looks like maybe you misdiagnosed or mis-prescribed, huh, doc?" she commented. She slapped her patient lightly on the face. "Stay with me, honey!"

"Not that it really matters, but I diagnosed perfectly, and I did NOT prescribe; she stole somebody else's pills. Now, do you want instructions from the attending physician, or are you just going to wing it and take the consequences?"

She looked up at me contritely. "I'm sorry doctor. I didn't mean ..."

"Are you taking her to University or Williams?" I interrupted.

"Williams."

"Can you have her on Lactate of Ringers by the time she gets there?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Try to keep her awake until we can get a tox screen. Don't induce further vomiting. She's empty. Give her 5 mcg's of dopamine if her BP drops below eighty. I'll see you at the ER." I stood. "And ... nice response time. Nine minutes. You guys are real pros." I stood and held out my hand to Sherrie. "Let's go."

She shuffled her feet uncertainly. "Can I ... uh ... go with her?"

I walked over to her and leaned next to her ear. "It's time for you to pay the price. You remember the price; don't you, Sherrie?" I held out my hand. Reluctantly, she took it, and I led her out of the apartment and down the stairs. We said nothing for the two blocks to my car. I held the door for her, but when I got in, she shied away from me, next to the passenger side door.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Do to you?" I looked askance at her. "First, I'm going to insist that you put on your seat belt." I started the car and drove out of the lot, turning west; and eventually she settled into the seat and fastened herself in.

After about a minute, during which time she watched me with a mixture of trepidation and uncertainty, she spoke. "Are you going to take me?"

"Take you to the hospital, you mean? Of course."

She took a deep breath. "No. I mean: are you going to take me ... um ... sexually?"

I studied her for long seconds before returning my concentration to downtown driving. "Well, you are a very lovely girl. I'm sure I'd find that quite enjoyable. Why? Are you offering?"

She looked down and blushed. "Please! Please don't tease me! You made me promise to do anything if you saved Merrie. And then you reminded me of the price."

I smiled a little without giving her my attention. "Let's leave that question open, shall we? Right now, I'm going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer them ... honestly. Eventually, I will find out if you lie to me. And trust me: you do not want to know what I'll do to you if that turns out to be the case. Understand?"

She stared at her clasped hands in her lap. "Yes, sir."

"Who is Joseph Cromp?"

That brought her head up. She regarded me pleadingly, but I refused to add anything and left the question hanging. "He's ... um ... That was his apartment we were in."

"Don't make me ask you again, Sherrie. Answer my question."

She took a deep breath. "He's ... my master. He's OUR master ... Merrie's and mine. He owns us. He ... um ... has sex with us. We belong to him."

I was turning into the parking lot of the Roger Williams Medical Center. "Did you know him first? Did he force you to bring Merrie to him?"

"What?" She seemed genuinely shocked. "No! It was nothing like that!"

I parked in a visitor's space. "We will address this problem again soon." I turned to her and grasped her shoulder, emphasizing my seriousness. "You will stay with me from here on ... always where I can see you. Do you have a cell phone? Give it to me." I waited while she complied. "Now, don't leave my side. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mister ... um ..."

"Doctor. Doctor Herringwick."

"Yes, doctor."

I led her into the emergency room entrance, where I talked to the receptionist, then the head ER nurse, then the ER physician in charge, and finally the hospitalist, or doctor in charge of admitting. I made a quick phone call; and finally, I guided Sherrie to receiving, just as the ambulance bearing Merrie pulled up. We stayed out of the way while all the various medical and administrative actions took place ... without pause or complication, since I had already provided most of the pertinent information to the people who needed it.

A scant two hours later (an amazingly short time in the eyes of hospital administration), I was watching Sherrie by her sister's bedside, when Russo strode into the room. Merrie, who was awake, tried to get up and rush to him, but he corralled her (along with all the electrical leads and IV drips); and he smothered her with kisses, embarrassing everybody by climbing into bed beside her in order to better hold her. I grabbed Sherrie and dragged her out into the hall to give the lovers time for their reunion. So much had happened that it was hard to fathom it was not yet noon.

Fifteen minutes later, when Russo walked out of the room, I placed myself protectively in front of Sherrie and stopped his forward progress with the palm of my hand on his chest. "Whoa, friend. I don't think this is your bad guy."

He glared at her over my shoulder for a few seconds before giving me his attention. "What makes you say that? She obviously lured Merrie into some sort of trap that was being laid by her lover."

I met his gaze. "I'm pretty sure she's a victim herself. I'm guessing that the man responsible is either a bumbling idiot with horniness issues or a calculating professional that's trying to find some sort of hold over your family organization. Either way, he's dangerous. This is a psychological mystery, and the best way to solve it is to let me do my job. Now, I'll get back to you tomorrow with a report on ..."

"What do you know about my family's organization?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

I sighed and gave him a look that I hoped wasn't too patronizing. "Come on, Russo. Give me some credit. You think I don't check out my clients? So, anyway ... give me twenty-four hours. I'll find the dirtbag that stole your wife. And most importantly, I'll figure out how to break whatever psychological hold he has over her ... over THEM. I'll determine exactly what the threat is, and I'll try to eliminate it. Okay?"

He gave me sort of a sour look, then glanced over my shoulder at the sister again. His eyes softened a little. "She wants to see you, Sherrie," he said.

She took a step around us toward the door, but hesitated. "Bryon," she said, "I'm so sorry this all happened. I ... I'm not really sure just what DID happen. But I promise you that I didn't ..."

"Go," he commanded gently. And she shut up and dashed through the door. He gave me his attention again. "Merrie says that she has to go back to 'him' again." He used his fingers to emphasize the quotes. "She says that he's drawing her to him somehow. She didn't know how to stop the ... um ... desires he was making her feel. She said that she didn't think she'd ever see me again. He evidently told her that. And so ... she decided to end it all." He glanced back into the room at the girls, who were holding hands and whispering to each other, and he sighed heavily. "I understand that you took actions that probably saved her life. I'll be forever indebted to you for ..."

"There IS no debt, Russo. Saving lives is an oath I took a long time ago. Being able to fulfill that oath is a privilege, not a job." He turned and we studied one another for a long moment. "So," I continued. "We have an agreement? You won't get involved with this until I find out how best to counteract these ... um ... reactions that both women are exhibiting. Right?" He nodded. "Alright, then," I continued. "I need you to stay with your wife throughout the day and night. Don't let her out of your sight. If you have to take a whiz or something, have someone else sit with her for a moment or two. But DO NOT leave her unattended! Understand? There is good cause to think that she'll try to trick everyone and go running back to this guy. His hold over her is frighteningly strong."

"I won't leave her for a second, I promise. I'll be looking forward to your ... um ... report; and I'll be ready to take whatever action you think necessary to guarantee Merrie's ... to guarantee both their safety. Thank you, doctor."

I nodded and then went and took Sherrie by the arm, pulling her away from her sister. She didn't fight me, and I led her out of the room, down the hall and out of the hospital. We didn't share a word until we were in the car and driving toward my apartment building. "Now," I told her commandingly, "tell me about Mr. Cromp. Where did you meet him?"

"At a party last week. It was sort of an annual get-together thrown by a girlfriend back in college. I didn't want to go ... but Merrie thought we were obligated. Joe was the entertainment."

"What kind of entertainment?"

"I can't tell you that. He told me not to mention it to anyone. I think I've ... um ... said too much already. I'm sorry." She regarded me for several seconds. "I need to go back to his apartment now, doctor. Will you take me, please?"

I groaned. "Let me guess. Joe is a hypnotist."

"Oh, God," she muttered, "I HAVE said too much!" She studied me nervously. "Doctor, please ... I'm not even supposed to be talking to men. Please take me home!"

I almost told her no, but changed my mind. "Very well, I'll take you back. First, however, I need you to tell me why."

"He told me not to leave unless I absolutely had to. This morning, I went out to get the kind of ground coffee he likes. That's why I wasn't there when Merrie ... uh ... did what she did. And, after you saved her, I knew that it would probably be okay to stay out until I was sure she was alright. But I need to get back now." She looked around. "We're going the wrong way."

I considered. "Where was he this morning?"

"He's at work. I have to be there when he gets back. I have to! Why are you driving this way? The apartment is back there." She pointed back over her right shoulder.

"What do you think he's going to do when he finds that Merrie is gone?"

"Oh, God. He's going to be so mad! And if I'm not there, he'll really blow up! He'll hurt me again ... or Merrie, when she gets back. I can't let that happen! Please turn around now!"

"What time does he get home?"

That seemed to confuse her. "Um ... about five. But, that's not the point. I'm gone, and I shouldn't be. I really need to get back!"

"You owe me, Sherrie. You said that you'd do anything, and now you need to fulfill that promise. As soon as you've done so, I'll take you back. I should have you home in plenty of time."

That sobered her up. She regarded me meekly. "What are you going to do to me?"

I thought about the proper response to that. "What do you think I'm going to do to you?"

She nodded and sighed. "You're going to do it to me. You're going to take me, I know. That's what men always do." She settled back into the seat, and I let her think in silence as I got closer to my building. "Okay," she said softly. "I'll let you take me. I'll ... uh ... give you sex, okay? And then you'll take me right home, okay?"

I nodded, relieved. "Okay."

Three minutes later, I was parking the car. She followed along docilely, not pulling away as I took her hand and held it all the way to the front door. I watched her carefully as I unlocked the door, more than half afraid that she'd bolt and run away, but she didn't; and I led her into my office and seated her in a secretary's chair in front of my computer.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Aren't we going to ... um ... have sex now?"

"We'll have sex when we're through, Sherrie. But first, I need you to look at something and concentrate. Merrie's recovery depends on it. Do you understand?"

She nodded for just a second, but then she wrinkled her brow and shook her head. "No, I don't. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do what's necessary, damn it!" I said loudly. She blanched and stared at me, fear in her pretty face. I wanted to ease her anxiety, but I was afraid to do anything else that might spook her. My computer was in sleep mode, and it came to life in an instant, but I had to launch the program I needed to use, and it took me a few moments to get it going to my satisfaction. I took a deep breath, then decided that I needed to change my approach. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Sherrie, but this is really important if you want me to have sex with you and return you to the apartment in time. That is what you want, isn't it?"

Her anxiety abated a little, but she seemed flustered. "What I want?"

I reached out and took her hand. "You want me to take you sexually, don't you?"

There was a lot of movement on the computer screen, and it captured her attention for a moment. She tore her eyes away from it and gazed into my eyes. "Want," she muttered, chewing her lower lip with white, perfect teeth. Some thought seemingly popped into her pretty head. "When you take me ... when you have sex with me ... will you ... kiss me?"

That sort of threw me, but I reacted as quickly as I could. "Oh, yes. I intend to kiss you a lot."

She chewed the lip once more, then nodded. "Okay, then. Yes, I want it. Um ... want you, I mean. If you're going to kiss me, then it doesn't really matter. You can make me do whatever you want." She looked back at the computer. "What is that?"

She was staring at four hypnotic spirals, each taking up one fourth of the screen. All of them were rotating at various speeds, though two of them added other movements, as well. The one in the upper left corner was almost throbbing in a psychedelic mixture of chaos and monotonous order, and it was that one she seemed to give all of her attention to. Hmm, I thought. She preferred abstract over traditional induction devices. Very interesting. "I need to put you into a trance before we have sex, Sherrie. You've been hypnotized before, haven't you?"

I tapped a few computer keys, and the complex image expanded, split into four new images, and shifted to the four corners again. "Yes ..." she began, then gasped loudly as that happened. "Oh, my gosh!" she exclaimed.

"Take a deep breath please, Sherrie. Yes ... just like that. Do it again, please, and relax for me. Very good. And now ... answer me. You've been hypnotized before, right?"

"Uh ... yes. Joe ... um ... Oh, gosh!"

I had just changed the four spirals again, based on her reaction to fixating on the image in the lower right corner. "Now ... take another deep breath, please, and relax even more. I know that Joe hypnotizes you frequently, but this time ... and with this device ... you are going to go much deeper than he is able to take you ... and much more quickly, as well." Her eyes blinked slowly once, then again, and her chin began inching downward toward her chest. "Open your eyes, Sherrie," I barked quickly, and she reacted immediately, sitting upright and staring at the tedious, gyrating image in the upper left of the screen. I tapped a few keys. "Pay attention, please. This is very important." The images she was seemingly consumed with were getting more and more complex ... almost bizarrely so. Without prompting, she took a deep breath and let her shoulders sag perceptively. Her pupils were flickering slightly and wavering. I suddenly realized that she was already under. "Which of these four spirals is going to be your special one, Sherrie? One of them is going to put you into a trance whenever you see it. Which one?"

She sighed dreamily, then slowly lifted her right hand and pointed with a slender finger. "That one."

"When you answer me, you must always call me doctor," I admonished, tapping a few keys and hitting the Enter key.

"Doctor," she droned, smiling slightly.

The computer screen expanded to a full, single image, wildly complicated, with lines that appeared to materialize out of thin air, which would then twist and spin away in numerous directions at once. There apparently was no sense to the paths they all took, except that in every single case, they found themselves right back where they started, where they dutifully vanished and resurfaced, only to start their cycles anew. I had done this with several women during the past month ... not all with mad, evil intent, mind you ... hypnosis can actually be very therapeutic. But this was the first woman I had ever encountered who had chosen such an abstract trance inducer. This didn't necessarily mean she was a complicated or sophisticated personality, but I assumed it meant something. There were certainly psychological factors at work in this woman I had never encountered before.