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Authors: Patrick Quentin
Tags: Crime
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physical strength.
"That's just the point," cried Green exasperatedly. "With a man of his physique, it would have needed at least six or seven ordinary people to get him into that strait-jacket. And yet the medical examiner and Stevens here say there's no sign of violence. The blood's been tested in your own laboratories and there's no trace of anesthetic. I don't see how it was done, unless—"
He broke off and gazed at Lenz. "This whole business seems crazy to me," he continued. "Isn't it possible that you've got someone in this sanitarium who's more dangerous than you think; some out-and-out maniac? They're supposed to have incredible strength, and maybe they'd get a sort of sadistic pleasure out of seeing a man in pain."
I watched Lenz with interest. This theory seemed to fit in so well with his remarks about a "subversive influence." To my surprise, his eyes hardened. Sadism, he explained coldly, was a common manifestation in the most normal individuals. But motiveless murder would imply an advanced condition of dementia which was most unlikely to exist in his sanitarium. He was willing to have any State alienist examine the inmates, but he did not feel it necessary.
"Because," he concluded coldly, "no homicidal maniac could have committed so deliberate a crime. When a maniac kills, it is in a moment of acute emotional disturbance. He would never have the patience to put a man in a strait-jacket and truss him up so elaborately, not even if he had the strength and the opportunity."
Green seemed unconvinced. "Even so, could any of your patients have gone to the physio-therapy room during the night without being seen?"
"I suppose so." Lenz moved a hand up and down his beard. "I do not believe in too much restriction here. With the type of patient I treat, it is essential to create the atmosphere of normality. I try to make the sanitarium seem as much like a hotel or a club as possible, they cause any disturbance, the patients are given considerable license."
"So they could have got hold of one of those strait-jackets," said Green quickly.
"No." It was Moreno who spoke. "We have only two in the institution. Both Dr. Lenz and myself consider them old-fashioned and dangerous. We do not believe in forcible coercion. The strait-jackets we have are kept for extreme emergencies. They are locked in a closet in the physio-therapy room. Only Fogarty and Warren had keys. I doubt if anyone else in the institution knew of their existence."
Suddenly there flashed into my mind the recollection of my talk the night before with the gloomy Warren.
"I suppose there's nothing to this," I suggested. "Fogarty and Warren were talking about taking a tumble with each other. Maybe they used the strait-jacket as a trial of strength and, as Doctor Moreno suggests, there was an accident"
A quick glance passed between Lenz and Moreno.
"Yes," said Stevens urgently, "surely some explanation of that sort would be more satisfactory."
Green grunted noncommittally. He asked me a few more questions and then said:
"There's another possibility. Mr. Duluth here mentioned that Fogarty was popular with the women. Apparently it was impossible for a man to have tied him up against his will, but a woman might have persuaded him to put the strait-jacket on himself. You say he was proud of his strength. It would be easy to get him to show off. And once he was in the jacket, even a woman could manage the rest."
Immediately I thought of Fogarty's little act with Miss Brush the day before; the act which had ended so sensationally with the intrusion of young Billy Trent. I could tell that Moreno remembered it, too, for his dark cheeks flushed slightly. Before I could make up my mind whether or not to mention it, he said abruptly:
"Mr. Duluth is still suffering from the shock of his discovery, and excitement is not good for him. Unless the captain wants to ask him any more questions, I feel he should be excused."
Green shrugged and Dr. Lenz nodded agreement.
"That's just the point," cried Green exasperatedly. "With a man of his physique, it would have needed at least six or seven ordinary people to get him into that strait-jacket. And yet the medical examiner and Stevens here say there's no sign of violence. The blood's been tested in your own laboratories and there's no trace of anesthetic. I don't see how it was done, unless—"
He broke off and gazed at Lenz. "This whole business seems crazy to me," he continued. "Isn't it possible that you've got someone in this sanitarium who's more dangerous than you think; some out-and-out maniac? They're supposed to have incredible strength, and maybe they'd get a sort of sadistic pleasure out of seeing a man in pain."
I watched Lenz with interest. This theory seemed to fit in so well with his remarks about a "subversive influence." To my surprise, his eyes hardened. Sadism, he explained coldly, was a common manifestation in the most normal individuals. But motiveless murder would imply an advanced condition of dementia which was most unlikely to exist in his sanitarium. He was willing to have any State alienist examine the inmates, but he did not feel it necessary.
"Because," he concluded coldly, "no homicidal maniac could have committed so deliberate a crime. When a maniac kills, it is in a moment of acute emotional disturbance. He would never have the patience to put a man in a strait-jacket and truss him up so elaborately, not even if he had the strength and the opportunity."
Green seemed unconvinced. "Even so, could any of your patients have gone to the physio-therapy room during the night without being seen?"
"I suppose so." Lenz moved a hand up and down his beard. "I do not believe in too much restriction here. With the type of patient I treat, it is essential to create the atmosphere of normality. I try to make the sanitarium seem as much like a hotel or a club as possible, they cause any disturbance, the patients are given considerable license."
"So they could have got hold of one of those strait-jackets," said Green quickly.
"No." It was Moreno who spoke. "We have only two in the institution. Both Dr. Lenz and myself consider them old-fashioned and dangerous. We do not believe in forcible coercion. The strait-jackets we have are kept for extreme emergencies. They are locked in a closet in the physio-therapy room. Only Fogarty and Warren had keys. I doubt if anyone else in the institution knew of their existence."
Suddenly there flashed into my mind the recollection of my talk the night before with the gloomy Warren.
"I suppose there's nothing to this," I suggested. "Fogarty and Warren were talking about taking a tumble with each other. Maybe they used the strait-jacket as a trial of strength and, as Doctor Moreno suggests, there was an accident"
A quick glance passed between Lenz and Moreno.
"Yes," said Stevens urgently, "surely some explanation of that sort would be more satisfactory."
Green grunted noncommittally. He asked me a few more questions and then said:
"There's another possibility. Mr. Duluth here mentioned that Fogarty was popular with the women. Apparently it was impossible for a man to have tied him up against his will, but a woman might have persuaded him to put the strait-jacket on himself. You say he was proud of his strength. It would be easy to get him to show off. And once he was in the jacket, even a woman could manage the rest."
Immediately I thought of Fogarty's little act with Miss Brush the day before; the act which had ended so sensationally with the intrusion of young Billy Trent. I could tell that Moreno remembered it, too, for his dark cheeks flushed slightly. Before I could make up my mind whether or not to mention it, he said abruptly:
"Mr. Duluth is still suffering from the shock of his discovery, and excitement is not good for him. Unless the captain wants to ask him any more questions, I feel he should be excused."
Green shrugged and Dr. Lenz nodded agreement.
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