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him dead.” She stopped talking.
    â€œGas?” Ben asked quietly.
    Marie shook her head. “I turned off the gas outside every day when I left. He went upstairs and got a … a 22 pistol we used to plunk tin cans with. Then he went down to the basement and shot himself in the head.”
    â€œMy God…”
    â€œI think—I know —it was during one of his lucid moments. He went to the basement because it … it would be easier…”
    The words choked in her throat, and Ben nodded to tell her he understood. It would be easier to clean up.
    Her voice sounded thin and pinched. He saw the tears on her cheeks now. “I should’ve … remembered that gun. Hidden it away somewhere.”
    â€œIt left him a choice,” Ben said. “You can’t blame yourself for it. He did what he thought was best for himself. And for you.”
    She nodded and took a long sip of wine. “I’ve told myself that. And I think it’s true.” She sniffed then and shook herself, like shaking off a bad dream. “But that, in less than a nutshell, is what made me want to get into the field of mental health. To help people like my daddy. So I took the extra courses and got certified. There were no openings at private institutions, but there was one at the state hospital, and I got it.”
    â€œBut a hospital for the criminally insane—wasn’t that a little scary?”
    â€œOh yeah,” Marie said with a little laugh. “It still is. But as frightening as it is, it’s also fulfilling. These people are sick in a different way, but they’re still sick.”
    â€œAnd mean and violent—some of them anyway. Like Ronald Miller. I wouldn’t turn my back on that guy. Mean as a snake.”
    Marie nodded. “Multiple rape. Horrible man. He’s one of the few that I think belongs in a regular prison. He may be sick, but I don’t know if it’s the kind of sick that can be cured.”
    â€œWell, I’ve overheard some scuttlebutt that he may not be here much longer. The docs are starting to believe that he’s faking the whole mentally ill thing, and I think they’re right. He manipulates people. Just don’t ever get yourself alone with him.”
    â€œBelieve me, I don’t want to find myself alone with any of them, not even Norman.”
    Their steaks came at last, and they both dug in. Talk was minimal as they ate, only an occasional muttered terrific or delicious passing across the table.
    When steaks, baked potatoes, and salads were nothing but a satisfying memory, they both sat back and smiled in appreciation of each other’s appetite. “Dessert?” Ben asked.
    â€œNot for a month, at least,” Marie replied, and Ben laughed.
    â€œOkay, coffee then,” he said, and ordered two when the waiter took away the plates. “So … you looking for another job, or are you planning to stay among our particular crazies for a while?”
    â€œI like the work,” Marie said. “It’s not ideal, but…”
    â€œHow do you like working under Santa?”
    â€œSanta?” She looked confused.
    â€œOur Head Nurse Lindstrom.”
    â€œI’ve never heard her called Santa before.”
    â€œThe patients call her that. Because she’s knows if you’ve been sleeping, and she knows if you’re awake. You can’t pull the wool over Santa’s eyes. Many have tried, to their peril.”
    â€œPeril is right.”
    â€œWhat, you’ve seen an example?”
    â€œA lot of them,” Marie said. “She’s more Torquemada than Florence Nightingale.”
    â€œThe Spanish Inquisition guy?”
    â€œThat’s the one. She has these little … punishments she doles out, regardless of treatment protocols. For example, you know Warren Russell?”
    â€œThe fat klepto, yeah. Steals anything that isn’t nailed