Robert Bloch's Psycho (21 page)

“But even if he were able to get back in, in the case of Ronald Miller he would have had to get the key to Miller's cell and take him out bodily through locked gates and past attendants and the outside guards. Because Miller—or his body—wasn't found in the facility.

“As for Myron Gunn and Nurse Lindstrom, Robert would have had to do the same thing, only with
two
people, either removing them from the building or doing something to them here and then getting out. Myron's car is gone, so he would have had to take that too. It's just physically impossible that an outsider could have done any such thing. Does that make sense to you?”

Norman nodded again. He felt a little better. “I guess so,” he said. “It's just that the combination of different things … I put them together. In my imagination.”

“And that's all it is, Norman. Your imagination. And there's nothing wrong with that. It's part of our human makeup to look for patterns, and, if none exists, we sometimes create them. We see clouds that look like horses, or faces in the bark of a tree. That's what you've done. It doesn't mean the horse or the face is really there.” Dr. Reed sat back and crossed his arms. “Would you feel more comfortable not seeing Robert for a while? I could offer him a reason that wouldn't offend him if you would want visits to resume after a time.”

“No, no,” Norman said. “It's just … I enjoy his visits, they're great, and it's not his fault I get these ideas in my head, he just … well, I think he wants me to feel comfortable with him, to feel that he understands what I … what I went through. Am
going
through.”

“I'm sure he does. But if you feel disturbed by some things that Robert says, don't hesitate to tell him so. Ask him to change the subject. I'm sure he will.” Dr. Reed smiled at Norman. “Now. Since we've got that out of the way, shall we continue with our session? Lie back and relax…”

*   *   *

After his session with Dr. Reed, it was time for dinner. Nurse Marie came in, Ben behind her, and he was happy to see them both. He hoped that Myron, if he had indeed run away with Nurse Lindstrom, would
stay
away. He didn't like the way Myron talked to Nurse Marie, and had been worried about her when she'd stayed in that room where the man was being force-fed.

She seemed to be fine, though, and greeted Norman warmly. He grinned at her, and she looked at him oddly, but still smiling. “You look happy today,” she said. “I wonder if it's because you heard some news.”

“Yes,” Norman whispered, then said, “Myron.”

Nurse Marie raised her eyebrows in surprise. Norman assumed it was a response to his relative volubility. Other than
please
and
thank you,
he'd never said more to her. “That's right,” she said. “And…?”

“Nurse … Lindstrom.”

Nurse Marie turned and smiled at Ben, who smiled back. Then she looked back at Norman as she took the cover from his tray of food. “They may be back eventually,” she said.

The food smelled good to Norman. It was beef stew, which he liked. The good spirits he felt sustained his talkativeness. “Maybe not,” he said with a smile. And then, in spite of what Dr. Reed had told him, he pictured the faces of the two that he had seen in his dream.

“Maybe not,” he whispered, but now he wasn't smiling.

He was, he thought later, more right than he could imagine.

 

11

A week passed, and Myron Gunn and Nurse Lindstrom still hadn't reappeared at their homes or the hospital. Marybelle Gunn had filed a missing person's report, and the highway patrol was on the lookout for Myron's DeSoto, but the car hadn't been sighted.

Nurse Wyndham and Ray Wiseman retained their temporary positions as head nurse and head attendant, and the state hospital went on with its business as before. In fact, it proceeded even more efficiently, since neither Wyndham nor Wiseman had the sadistic bent that their predecessors had. They were strict and stern, a necessity when dealing with criminal madmen, but they seemed to feel no pleasure in enforcing discipline. It was part of the job.

Rumors abounded among the patients:

One of the more violent residents had murdered and chopped up both Gunn and Lindstrom, and the affair had been hushed up and a cover story established, though no one could explain why …

The pair had run away together, but Ronald Miller had been waiting for them and killed them both, then stolen Gunn's car …

The ghosts of the old sanitarium had claimed them when they went into the cellar to have sex, and their bodies would never be found, their souls captured and tortured forever …

Even the staff discussed the possibility of these disparate scenarios, though the consensus was that Myron and Eleanor had run off and then continued running, and wouldn't be heard from again. This, however, was not the opinion of Judy Pearson, receptionist and Dr. Goldberg's secretary, who was certain that Ronald Miller had never left the hospital and was still hiding in the facility, skulking between various rooms and closets, stealing food to survive, and biding his time. Myron and Eleanor had come across him, and he had killed them to shut them up and hidden their bodies somewhere. Now he was still on the premises with blood on his hands, prowling for his next victim, which Judy was afraid was going to be her.

So when, just before she was due to leave for the day at six o'clock, Dr. Goldberg asked her to retrieve one of the older patient files from the cellar storage room, she felt more than slight trepidation. It was already dark, and odds were that no one would be in the cellar at this time of day.

What made things worse was that the file room, one of the few rooms in the cellar that was humidity controlled, was down a short hall off of the main one. Once she went down that hall, she'd be trapped, if anyone (and by anyone, she thought of Ronald Miller) followed her.

She stopped by the break room first to see if any of the attendants would go with her, but the only one there was Cappy Reilly, who grinned when he saw her. “Hey, Judy!” he said. “How ya doin'? Heading over to Delsey's—join me for a beer?”

Cappy had asked Judy that a dozen times since he started working at the hospital, and she had always declined, each time a bit chillier than the time before. She had thought he'd finally gotten the message, but apparently not. “I can't,” she said. “I have to get some files from the cellar. Um … I was wondering if maybe you'd come with me?”

“Well, now that's an invitation I've been waiting for.” His grin grew broader and toothier. “I knew you'd come around eventually.”

Her anger conquered her fear, and she gave her head a hard shake. “Never mind,” she said, turning to walk away. “I'll be fine on my own.” At the door she turned back. “You're
disgusting,
” she said, and walked out.

“Your funeral, honey,” Judy heard him say as she stalked down the hall.

Your funeral. Oh,
damn
it, she thought, then gritted her teeth and headed for the stairway. Going down there and finding the files would take ten minutes, tops. And it wasn't like she was going down there by candlelight, like one of the heroines in those Gothic romances she always read. The lights in the hallway were plenty bright. She'd be fine. Ronald Miller was probably long gone. Probably.

She hit the switch at the bottom of the stairs, and the cellar hallway was illuminated all the way down its length. She almost started to call out
hello,
but wasn't sure if she wanted to make her presence known any more than it already was. Maybe whoever might be there would think she was a big, burly attendant and stay hidden.

The short hallway that led to the office was halfway down the hall, and she walked carefully, trying to make no sound, her heart pounding. Some of the doors on either side of the corridor were closed. Others opened into darkness, and she walked against the opposite wall when she came to those. Not planning to go without a fight, she clutched her key ring so that the points of the keys stuck out from between her fingers like claws.

When she got to the short hall, she slowly put her head around the corner, almost expecting something to jump out at her, but it was empty. She walked the few yards to the door, unlocked it, pushed it open, and immediately turned on the light.

Fortunately the room wasn't very big, and the filing cabinets were all against the far wall, so that there was nothing for anyone to hide behind. Judy kept the door open, not wanting to have to open it again to whatever might be in the hall when she left. She went directly to the
T–Z
file and removed the folder Dr. Goldberg wanted. It was when she was checking the contents to be sure the file had been correctly labeled that she heard the sound.

It was a quick scuffling noise from the doorway, and she whipped around just in time to see a movement of something passing in the main corridor, from right to left as she viewed it, going in the direction from which she had come. In the fear that swept through her and wrapped ice around her throat, she couldn't see the face or make out what the person was wearing, but they had shot by as if not wanting to be seen.

She listened, but didn't hear anything else. No footsteps, no breathing except her own. Then she heard what sounded like a door thudding shut.

What was happening? Was he hiding in one of the rooms now? She put the keys back into her hand the way she had before, ready to claw out the eyes of any attacker. Then, holding the file under her arm, she quietly closed the drawer with her free hand and walked toward the door. Before she locked it behind her, she would peek out into the hall to make certain no one was still there.

Just as she reached the doorway, a large figure suddenly appeared, shadowed against the light from the hall.

Judy gave a quick yelp, leapt back into the room, and slammed the door closed behind her, turning the catch so that it was locked. She stood leaning against the door, panting in panic, feeling sweat coat her face, hoping that her ratcheting heart wouldn't burst. What could she do? There was no escape from this room. She looked around wildly for air vents, thinking that she could suffocate if she had to stay there too long. But she couldn't open the door, not now, not ever, even if the air ran out—

She jumped at a soft knock on the door. “Judy?” a voice said.

It was familiar to her.

“Hey, it's me, Cappy. Sorry I scared you. I came down to apologize. I really acted like an idiot up there. I know you were a little scared to come down here alone, so I figured I'd just keep you company; that's it, really.”

Cappy. God
damn
him. But at the same time, God bless him. “Okay,” she said, but her throat was so tight the word didn't come out. “Okay,” she said again, and wiped the sweat from her face before she opened the door.

Cappy stood there, smiling sheepishly. “I really am sorry.” Then he noticed how white her face was. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” The words raced out of her, and she moved past him to look down the hall. “Somebody was down here. I heard them, like they were trying to move fast and not have me see them. Did you see anyone when you came down?”

“No, not a soul. When did this all happen?”

“Just now!”

Cappy shrugged. “I know I would've seen anybody there, but there wasn't—or on the stairs.”

Judy thought for a second. “He must have gone into one of the rooms. I heard a door close!”

“Which way did he go?” Cappy asked.

“That way,” she said, pointing down the hall to her left.

“That's how I came down,” he said, “but I didn't see him. We gotta check these rooms.”

“What do you mean,
we?
”

He chuckled. “I mean
we
as in some of the guys. Look, let's walk to the end of the hall, then you run up the stairs and get two, maybe three attendants to come down here. Tell 'em possible escape. I'll stay here and keep an eye on the hall to make sure nobody slips out of a room, okay?”

Judy nodded, pushed open the door to the stairs, and ran up them. She quickly gathered several of the men from their evening posts and led them back down, all the time clutching Dr. Goldberg's requested report under her arm. Then she waited while the attendants went from one room to the next, using master keys to open the locked doors.

When they reached the short hall that led to the records room, Cappy said, “You're sure he didn't go to your right, Judy?”

“No, he'd be in one of these rooms,” she said, indicating the portion of the hall they'd already searched.

“Well, he's not in any of them. And I was coming down the stairs, so he either disappeared or we missed him.”

“We didn't miss him,” growled one of the men.

“
Or,
” Cappy went on, “it was maybe your imagination?”

“I know what I saw, Cappy,” she said. “And what I
heard.
” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice. “Thanks for checking anyway.” She walked down the short hall to the records room, turned off the light, locked the door, and walked past the men to the stairs.

When she took the file folder from under her arm, she saw that it was damp with sweat. She waved it in the air to try and dry it as she walked to Dr. Goldberg's office, feeling embarrassed, slightly relieved, but still frightened.

*   *   *

Robert hadn't visited Norman for a long time, and Norman missed him. He wasn't exactly sure how long it had been, as he lost track of days, since each one was the same and seemed to blend into the other. Norman really had no religion, so Sunday didn't have the significance for him that it did for others, and he never attended the morning services on that day.

It wasn't until he mentioned to Dr. Reed that he missed his brother that he knew how long it had really been. “Over two weeks,” Dr. Reed said. “Robert called me just today, in fact, and asked me to apologize to you for not having come in. He said he's been very busy with both work and family. Apparently his children have been ill with the flu, and he's had to handle his diner alone while his wife takes care of them.”