Pretty crowded place. How come? We were greeted with shouts, screams, laughter that went out of bounds to strange cries. I'm not talking about ghosts, but dealing with people with sentiment is scarier. Especially the crazy ones. The atmosphere of the place is so depressing, that even for the first time we felt the reception desk was a one-of-a-kind oasis.
Beagle pulled out her police badge and we were taken straight to the chief's office.
Aisle after aisle has been passed. All doors look the same. In fact, what distinguishes it from the leader's place is that there is a green light near the door.
When the door was opened, a middle-aged woman was seen contemplating and deep in thought. Even her head was raised ten seconds after we came.
"Are you all right, Madame Pittersburgh?" asked the Beagle, showing his badge.
He took a deep breath twice. Then she wiped all her tears.
"Yes…, yes, yes I'm fine, come sit down."
We explain the purpose of being here.
"That's the problem, Miss Mcpherson. I'm still thinking about our patient's escape incident. Do you know how many times this is?”
The Beagle raised her eyebrows with wondering.
"The third! For god's sake a third! And the last one even became a victim! Even though I had sworn to the press that this incident would not happen again!” That middle aged woman explained with confusion.
"That's bad, I understand."
"Of course!" she added muttering. "Maybe in a few months I'll be closing this place." Her sulking tone contained a hint of depression. Her eyes watered down slowly.
"Can we see what the patient's name is?" I asked.
The middle age woman called Madame Pittersburgh nodded after wiping away her tears. Then she took a thick yellow folder from the twin shelves behind her desk.
"Tell me, Madame Pittersburgh, about your patient who escaped and became a victim recently."
She sighed. She looks hesitant.
"I'm not sure how many times everyone has asked the same thing," she said rather heavily as she put all the folders on the table.
I took the map. When I opened it, not far from a few pages, it immediately focused on the information we were looking for. I became sure of the words that said 'how many times...' it was.
Madame Pittersburgh opened the vents and still left the AC on, then lit a cigarette.
“Erica Hutchins, 32 years old, drug addict. She came alone at night to our place a year ago, confessed to killing a girl 2 years ago who also ran away from this place. She said she was also involved in an illegal immigrant case involving the sale of slaves.”
"Asian slaves, Chinese girls…," Beagle replied while nodding. When I turned to her, Beagle looked down as if she had noticed something. I thought the same thing, especially when Beagle mentioned China girl.
“Yeah. Even though we have insisted that the woman committed suicide,” Madame Pittersburgh added angrily. “But the criminal doctor said it was impossible! Huh? Seriously! Well you know it's common in Yorkshire to have an addict and then commit suicide?"
Beagle nodded in agreement. I began to understand at that time that Mr. Juan mentioned.
“Was Doctor Flemming on duty then?” Beagle asked.
Madame Pittersburgh took a puff on her cigarette and made a disgusted face.
“He said he smelled chloroform. I dunno, it's a bit forced. But… who doesn't trust a criminal doctor?” she protested.
“Petrina Blewett….” I read out the name on the yellow folder.
“Ah… the one who died two years ago. Actually she is a patient who has been suffering from cotard delusion for quite a long time, 5 years, a very rare disorder. Considering herself dead, or even walking outside our territory without realizing it. Anyway her problems are complex, charming girl with brown hair. It's quite unfortunate that their family has given up on them." She explained to us.
"So she ran off too, Madame Pittersbugh?"
Madame Pittersburgh tipped her cigarette again, then enjoyed the puff of smoke for the umpteenth time.
"Technically she wasn't in the room when needed. We automatically consider it blurry. Then she was found dead hanging herself in the toilet. One of the cleaning staff reported that there was a strange rope hanging from the outside. I can't imagine how her older sister must have felt at that time.”
"Her sister?" I asked.
"Yeah, the only person and the last one to see her."
"How can you be sure it's her older sister?" Beagle opened a small notebook that she took from her pocket. "Also, Erica Hutchins, confessed to killing that girl. Did you also believe that?"
"I didn't believe from the start that Erica Hutchins killed someone. I mean it's easy for someone who gets caught in the law, then feigns insanity by admitting to killing someone? The law will be blunt on madmen. But at that time I also saw no sign that this person was lying. Physically and behaviorally, she is absent-minded."
“Influence of illegal drugs I presume?” Beagle asked to make sure.
Madame Pittersburgh nodded confidently. Then she explained that this Miss Hutchins also could not be the perpetrator who killed Petrina Blewett. Because Hutchins said that she drowned the woman, while the Blewett case was found hanging herself, which was later concluded as a suicide.
“Regarding her older sister, is a different matter. Her hair color may be somewhat similar to Hutchins who has black pigtails rather purple, while she is only black without being dyed any other color. But from the expression on her face that was too worried half to death it made me a little sure. She even submitted matching identity data and family cards. Well, if the physique is similar and all the data is also correct, then which one else is at issue?"
I totally agree with what Madame Pittersburgh said. After all, it also complies enough with the hospital's regulatory standards.
"And the third, R. M. Garnache." I said reading the contents of the yellow folder again.
I'm a little suspicious on this one. The problem is the name, sounds familiar. That Garnache name. Especially from the three ladies when I was in the little shop by the river Derwent, also said Beckey of Mr. Juan.
She threw away the cigarette butt, then closed the vent. Then she back sat down.
“That woman is quite strange. The first time we saw her pacing around, day and night. At that time I ordered several doctors to examine it. The result is quite severe, Schizophrenia and PTED. Having no family and relatives, we decided to take care of her. She is like family in this hospital. Well, somehow 20 years ago she ran away from this place. Until now never come back again,” She explained with slightly worried eyes.
“Hm… is there any other information regarding this Garnache?”
“Um… let me remember…,” he added. "She's wearing a maid outfit... and if she's still alive, she's more or less the same age as me, in her 70s,"
To speed things up, we asked for some address information before leaving. I, who had been cold with the air conditioner in this room which was like winter in one room, decided to go to the toilet first. I told the Beagle to wait for me in the car.
After that, I accidentally met the cleaning staff. We just chatted a bit. He said he had worked in this hospital for years.
“So, Mr. Couch, you from Cornwall? Very far!" I said.
He scrubbed the toilet in the next cubicle.
"Yeah, sometimes your hometown doesn't give life. You know that, right?”
"Profession?"
"Yeah, well-being. Thank you for the bad luck of my life.”
He then opened the door of the room and came out.
"That means you've seen someone hang herself in the toilet?"
"You mean Miss Blewett? It's quite a shame. Yeah, I did talk to her, not much. She was just lonely. Unsuccessful, unappreciated, and easily frustrated. Even though none of the family would take her, I suppose she'll recover, but who knows what's in one's mind, right?”
"Why are you so sure?"
"Why? Yeah… nothing. I just feel so. She was almost hired here.”
When was about to go out, suddenly I remembered something.
"Oh yeah, isn't her sister visiting?"
Mr. Couch started cleaning the sink mirror.
“I told you earlier, right? But if you mean women like tourists with big suitcases with dark glasses. She was immediately taken to the chief's room."
“Eh? The one with black hair?"
"Yeah, it's not wrong if she's similar. At that time I was cleaning the lobby around Madame Pitterbughs room. But by then I was a bit late.”
"You mean?"
He shrugged.
"Yeah, she later came back without a suitcase. I'm… a little embarrassed to tell her. I mean who is me? Janitor warned the beautiful actress like woman? No. Well, so let it be done already."
"The caste difference sometimes makes us feel inferior," I said jokingly.
"It's normal for that to happen," he replied with bitter smile.
After that I didn't keep the Beagle waiting too long and got straight into the car.
ns 15.158.61.8da2