The World's Finest Mystery and Crime Stories by Ed Gorman

Author:Ed Gorman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2011-02-17T05:00:00+00:00

The room was as bleak as he’d expected.

Face white, eyes shrunken, Patsy lay in bed, looking out the window. She glanced at Harry, didn’t seem to recognize him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Who are you?” She frowned.

He didn’t answer her question either. “You’re not looking too bad, Patsy.”

“I think I know you. Yes, you’re … Wait, are you a ghost?”

“No, I’m not a ghost.” Harry set his attaché case on the table. Her eyes slipped to the case as he opened it.

“I can’t stay long, Patsy. I’m closing my practice. There’s a lot to take care of. But I wanted to bring you a few things.”

“Things?” she asked, sounding like a child. “For me? Like Christmas. Like my birthday.”

“Uh-hum.” Harry rummaged in the case. “Here’s the first thing.” He took out a photocopy. “It’s an article in the Journal of Psychoses. I found it the night after the session when you first told me about the ghosts. You should read it.”

“I can’t read,” she said. “I don’t know how.” She gave a crazy laugh. “I’m afraid of the food here. I think there are spies around. They’re going to put things in the food. Disgusting things. And poison. Or broken glass.” Another cackle.

Harry set the article on the bed next to her. He walked to the window. No trees here. No birds. Just gray, downtown Manhattan.

He said, glancing back at her, “It’s all about ghosts. The article.”

Her eyes narrowed and then fear consumed her face.

“Ghosts,” she whispered. “Are there ghosts here?”

Harry laughed hard. “See, Patsy, ghosts were the first clue. After you mentioned them in that session—claiming that your husband was driving you crazy—I thought something didn’t sound quite right. So I went home and started to research your case.”

She gazed at him silently.

“That article’s about the importance of diagnosis in mental-health cases. See, sometimes it works to somebody’s advantage to appear to be mentally unstable—so they can avoid responsibility. Say, soldiers who don’t want to fight. People faking insurance claims. People who’ve committed crimes.” He turned back. “Or who’re about to commit a crime.”

“I’m afraid of ghosts,” Patsy said, her voice rising. “I’m afraid of ghosts. I don’t want any ghosts here! I’m afraid of—”

Harry continued like a lecturing professor. “And ghosts are one of the classic hallucinations that sane people use to try to convince other people that they’re insane.”

She stopped speaking.

“Fascinating article,” Harry continued, nodding toward it. “See, ghosts and spirits seem like the products of delusional minds. But, in fact, they’re complex metaphysical concepts that someone who’s really insane wouldn’t understand at all. No, true psychotics believe that the actual person is there speaking to them. They think that Napoleon or Hitler or Marilyn Monroe is really in the room with them. You wouldn’t have claimed to’ve heard your father’s ghost. You would actually have heard him.”

Harry enjoyed the utterly shocked expression on his patient’s face. He said, “Then, a few weeks ago, you admitted that maybe the voices were in your head. A true psychotic would never admit that.

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