The Lost and the Damned by Dennis Liggio Read Free Book Online Page B

of coffee and good conversation,” I said, “Though, I will say I’ve been eyeing that pie since I came in. Cherry?”
    “You know it, sugar,” she said. “A piece?”
    “I shouldn’t,” I said, “but sure. Gimme some pie.”
    She cut me a slice, which I began to pick at while she continued her story. “In the mid Eighties, the hospital was practically empty. There was a stretch from ‘85 through ‘92 where there was just one doctor, an administrator, and two very unhappy nurses. The nurses used to come in here every day and all those two would do was complain and complain. Mean-spirited too. I would have hated to be one of their patients. There were rumors of very bad stuff going on up there, but nothing proven, you know. Between you and me, I think it could have been true.”
    “So what happened?” I prompted.
    “The state closed it down,” she said, washing a glass.
    “It closed down?”
    “Almost. It was ordered to close, but it never closed. The state got an offer for purchase.”
    I paused, a piece of pie on my fork halfway to my mouth. “Someone wanted to buy the place? Seriously?”
    “Seriously,” she said with a smile. “A rich psychiatrist named Ernest Bellingham bought it and turned it private. And when I mean rich, I mean rich. The town did some research on him when he was going to buy. The man was loaded. Us businesses around here decided to stay just in case he wanted to spread a little of that around here.”
    “Did he?” I asked.
    “He didn’t invest or go around throwing money like some type of Santa Claus, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. “What he did bring were rich families of patients, with very rich tastes. I have to stock shitake mushrooms now just for them and their particular tastes. Not a problem for me, though, since they tip very well.
     “Anyway, where was I? Yes, so Sommersfield Mental Hospital was renamed to The Bellingham Psychiatric Institute. He kept most of it shut down, but ran the institute out of what he needed. He wanted a place for his own research, then hired like-minded doctors for similar research. The most important part was that it brought more doctors, more nurses, more maintenance people, more contractors, and more relatives, which was business. It was a real shot in the arm for this town.”
    “I bet, it sounded pretty dire before that. But, let me ask,” I leaned closer, “Just what are they doing up there? I mean, the hospital part is pretty obvious. But what type of research?”
    “That I couldn’t tell you, sugar,” she said, “I try not to pay attention to what they’re doing up there. I wasn’t curious about it when I was younger and I’m not curious about it now. Too much curiosity and I’ll find myself unable to sleep at night. It’s enough that I get the willies looking at that place.”
    “Why not move away?” I asked. “It creeps you out, even after all these years. Why not start a business somewhere else?”
    “You’re a little younger than me, so I’ll overlook such a silly question.”
    “Surely that can’t be true,” I said in mock surprise.
    “You’re sweet,” she said, “and a shameless flatterer. But it’s true. When someplace has been home for long enough, it’s hard to leave, even when it’s not perfect. And I love this diner. It’s not much, but I kept it through some pretty lean times. I’d feel bad if I abandoned it.”
    “I can understand that,” I said. “So what type of patients do they get up there? It’s private, you said, so it’s not like the state is sending them. You see the relatives, so I bet you have some idea.”
    “Rich,” she said simply. “There’s a lot of rich folks coming here to visit their niece or nephew or someone. Black sheep, I bet. Stick your undesirable family member in Bellingham, right in the heart of Vermont. Cheaper than sending them abroad and less embarrassing.”
    “So a rich kid holding cell?” I said. “No real patients?