“Nothing. I sleep at the house. If the telephone rings I’m supposed to answer it. But it never rings.”
“You’ve looked in Maureen’s room when Nurse Flemming isn’t around, surely?”
“I haven’t, because they keep the door locked. It’s my bet she isn’t even in the house.”
“Where else would she be?” I asked, sitting forward and not bothering to conceal my excitement.
“If what Flemming says is right, she could be in the sanatorium.”
“And what does Nurse Flemming say?”
“I told you: she’s sweating out a drug jag.”
“If she’s in the sanatorium, then why the deception? Why not say right out she’s there? Why put in a couple of nurses and fake a sick-room?”
“Brother, if I knew I’d tell you,” Nurse Gurney said, and finished her drink. “It’s a damned funny thing, but whenever you and I get together we have to talk about Maureen Crosby.”
“Not all the time,” I said, getting up and crossing to the divan. I sat by her side. “Is there any reason why you can’t leave Salzer?”