Escaping Psychiatry 2. The Case of the Swapped Bodies: Escaping Psychiatry, #2

By Olga Núñez Miret

A woman shot dead. No enemies, no motive, only a story about how she swapped bodies with another woman found on her computer. The other woman in the story, the owner of the swapped body, goes into labour and won’t talk.

When FBI Agent Dave Dean asks psychiatrist/writer Mary Miller for her assistance, she doesn’t know that The Case of the Swapped Bodies is not the only mystery in Port Haven. A hit and run, an armed robbery gone wrong and questions about family traditions, priorities and legacies come into play and complicate matters. The line between fact and fiction is more tenuous than anybody realised and suspense is on the menu.

This is the third book in the Escaping Psychiatry series and it poses new challenges for Mary Miller. And not all the challenges are professional ones. How do you carry on when you’ve survived the unthinkable?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Olga Núñez Miret
• Release date: Dec 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781910214435

Olga Núñez Miret

Me llamo Olga Núñez Miret y soy escritora. También traduzco las obras de otros autores. ¿Qué más? Nací en Barcelona, España, pero llevo viviendo en el Reino Unido hace muchos años. A lo largo de mi vida he hecho y estudiado muchas cosas y he tenido otras vidas pero no importa cuánto me aleje de esto, siempre acabo volviendo a los libros y las historias, mis dos amores primeros. Cuando leer ya no me bastó, empecé a escribir. Mi primer libro fue publicado en 2012 y mi obra cubre muchos géneros, desde la ficción literaria al romance, la novela juvenil y los thrillers psicológicos. Planeo escribir más novelas en los mismos géneros y si mi imaginación así lo decide, exploraré otros. Me encanta conectar con los lectores, así que no dudéis en poneros en contacto conmigo. Si queréis estar informados de mis novedades, ofertas, y promociones, podéis suscribiros a mi lista, aquí: http://eepurl.com/bAWjPj También me podéis encontrar en los lugares habituales y siempre incluyo enlaces al final de mis libros. No os olvidéis de echarle un vistazo a mi página web y a mi blog (http://www.authortranslator.com). Siempre descubriréis alguna sorpresa. ¡Y gracias por leer!

Book preview

Escaping Psychiatry.

The Case of the Swapped Bodies

By Olga Núñez Miret

Text copyright ©2016 Olga Núñez Miret

Published by Olga Núñez Miret (Just Olga Books)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity (including, but not restricted to, organizations such as Amazon, Google, etc.), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, scanning or by any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.

Edited by: Express Editing Solutions (www.expresseditingsolutions.co.uk)

Cover art by: Ernesto Valdes

A word of warning. The book is written in UK English, and although both I and the editor have tried to ensure that the language is neutral and easy to understand by anybody who regularly reads English, we apologise if any expressions are amiss.

Table of contents

Prologue

Part1. The File

Chapter 1. Who am I?

Chapter 2. Who is me?

Chapter 3. Shaking Things Up.

Chapter 4. A friend in need...

Chapter 5. Coming along nicely

Part 2. Port Haven. Week One

Chapter 6. The Case

Chapter 7. What’s wrong with Dave Dean?

Chapter 8. What do we want a psychiatrist for?

Chapter 9. No Maggie yet.

Chapter 10. Port Haven’s Best

Chapter 11. Finally Maggie.

Chapter 12. Maggie, take two.

Chapter 13. What We Don’t Know.

Chapter 14. Having a Chat

Chapter 15. The Salters and the mystery man.

Chapter 16. More Maggie. Or less.

Chapter 17. Updating Simpson and home dinners

Chapter 18. A Sunday off (sort off)

Part 3. Port Haven. Week Two

Chapter 19. Friends and more friends

Chapter 20. Husbands and Teachers

Chapter 21. Chatting and Patty.

Chapter 22. Stray Bullets and Coffee Breaks

Chapter 23. Meeting Cherry

Chapter 24. Banks and Guns

Chapter 25. More Guns and Posthumous Letters

Chapter 26. Setting up the Bait and Checking the Trap

Chapter 27. How It All Fits in.

Chapter 28. Encore Maggie

Chapter 29. Loose Ends

If you want to read more about Mary

Links

Prologue

WE HAVE A VERY PECULIAR case on our hands. I thought you might find it interesting. And we could do with some help, Dave Dean said.

What’s so peculiar about the case? Mary Miller asked. What makes you think you need a psychiatrist?

The guys are calling it ‘the case of the swapped bodies’, so you can imagine it’s a bit odd.

It sounds like one of Sherlock Holmes’s cases, she said, trying to hide her amusement.

If only...

Tell me more.

I can do better.  I’ll send you a file. Encrypted, for security reasons, but you know what to do.

OK. And what should I do with it?

Just read it. And send me a message or call me when you’re done. Dave ended the call without a word of goodbye. Mary wondered for a moment about her relationship with the man, who was a few years younger than her, but then heard the ping of a new e-mail and went to check the file. And all thoughts about Dave Dean, or any other matter, went clean out of her head.

Part1. The File

Chapter 1. Who am I?

HOW ODD. THE ALARM clock didn’t sound as usual. Had she used her mobile phone instead? But she never did that. And Charlie was sure she’d never uploaded Whitney Houston’s song, ‘I Will Always Love You,’ to her phone, and never in a million years would she consider using it to wake up in the morning. In all likelihood it would have made her hurl the phone against the wall. She slid her right hand from under the quilt to stop whatever it was. But...her bedside table was lower than it had always been. What on Earth?

She sat up in bed, opening her eyes. What should have been her reflection confronted her from a mirror that had never been at the bottom of her bed. But who was that woman? Off-permed hair—shoulder length and mousy in colour. Where was her long mahogany hair? And these huge breasts and horrible big body wasn’t hers, either. Perhaps the green eyes weren’t too bad. Something could be done with them. But what was she going on about? That woman had freckles! Freckles! OK, calm down, calm down. It was evidently a dream. What else could it be? She closed her eyes, tightly, and after counting to ten, opened them again.

No change. There was still that stranger in that room, looking back at her.

What are you waiting for, Maggie? Go and get me my coffee! I can’t be late! Just because the kids are with my parents, it’s no excuse to just spend all morning in bed. And you told me you’re supposed to be working a shift this morning. Get going!

She nearly fell off the bed. She’d been so astounded by the figure reflected on the mirror that she hadn’t even noticed there was someone in bed with her. The guy, a rather unkempt dark-haired fellow, smelling of beer, unceremoniously pushed her off the bed.

Get going, you lazy cow! And to accentuate his words, he slapped her rather rotund backside.

Charlie/Maggie had no idea what to do, but to avoid more abuse she stumbled out of the room. Although she recognised nothing, her new body seemed to know where it was going, and she found herself in a small and rather rundown kitchen. Whoever this Maggie was, she wasn’t doing terribly well for herself. And that awful man had mentioned kids. Was she supposed to be a mother, too?

Her body kept doing its own thing and prepared a coffee. No fancy coffee machine or top of the range cooker and electric goods. Her granny’s kitchen, before she died, had been more up-to-date than this place. There were some family pictures hanging on the wall. She recognised the guy in bed and what must have been Maggie a few years back. A wedding picture. She was evidently pregnant, and he didn’t seem too happy. A picture of three girls, somewhere between seven and twelve, or something like that. She’d never been any good with children’s ages. Not having any of her own, and only taking a passing interest in the children of her friends, hadn’t helped.

Without much conscious involvement she set the coffee, some margarine and marmalade on the table and put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. The guy appeared through the door as she put the slices of toast on a plate.

Another hard day at the garage awaits. Only coffee, today. He grabbed the cup and sipped quickly and noisily. Oh, I’ll take the toast; otherwise you’ll end up eating it and getting even fatter than you are. And you complain I don’t spend any time with you. Who would? It’s like fucking a seal. Not even a seal! They have better silhouettes than yours. A sea-lion! The guy burst out laughing so hard that she thought—hoped—he’d choke, and he slapped his thighs at the same time for added emphasis. What a moron! Who did he think he was?

Charlie was convinced this had to be some kind of strange hallucination, but it definitely wasn’t a good one. She didn’t use drugs, but if this was a trip of some sort, she wanted her money back. She could hardly say she was enjoying it. There were enough annoying people in the real world. Who’d pay to take something to experience an alternative life that was much worse than their real one? A masochist? A reality TV creator? A journalist? A writer?

Remember, my mom is dropping the kids here after school. Don’t keep her waiting outside. I don’t know why you insist on not giving her a set of keys. Stubborn like a mule.

The guy left without saying anything else, thankfully. Charlie took the chance to check drawers and paperwork. There were lots of unpaid bills. Todd and Margaret—Maggie—Williams. It seemed nothing in the house fully belonged to them, as they were paying for everything in instalments. And they were somewhat behind with the mortgage. School reports from the kids—Samantha, Kerry and Lana. Samantha, the oldest, disruptive and overtalkative, according to her teachers. Kerry, studious but not the brightest. Lana, imaginative and sweet.

She looked at the clock. It was 8:30! By that time she would normally have been at the gym and exercising for a while. And she was supposed to be phoning a bit later to set up a date to introduce Mr. Ahmed to her new discovery, Icelandic sculpture phenomenon, Sven Friedrichson.

Hello, hello!

Damn! No, it wasn’t her voice either. And...

She ran to the bedroom. Checked inside the wardrobe, in the drawers, everywhere. She found a mobile, but it wasn’t hers. It was so old it should have been in a museum. She had all her numbers and contacts in her phone, and tablet, and computer... She scanned the bedroom and then checked everywhere. She eventually found an old home PC. She felt a shiver go down her spine. A home PC! Who were these people? The Flintstones? She felt sick and had to rush to the toilet. Luckily she seemed to know where it was. She was sick repeatedly, and when she stood up and saw her own reflection again, she realised it wasn’t only her situation that had made her feel sick. And she wasn’t simply fat. She was pregnant. What else could possibly happen?

The phone rang, making her jump again. Holding on to the walls, as she was still feeling nauseous, she reached the kitchen. A red plastic gondola-style receiver hung on the wall. She picked it up.

Mmmmm... Charlie? Are you Charlie?

It was her voice! Her own voice! Talking to her on the phone! Of course!

Maggie? Are you Maggie? Are you at my place?

Do you mean Meadows Park Avenue—fifty-three—apartment seven? Yes, I think I am. Are you at my place?

Charlie picked up one of the letters she’d been checking. Meadow Lane, number fifty-three? It seems so. How curious! The addresses are quite similar.

What do you think has happened?

Hearing her own voice ask the question she’d been asking herself since she’d first opened her eyes was weird, although nothing compared to how weird the situation was.

I have no idea. I only know this can’t be real. And this can’t be happening.

I agree but... All of this seems pretty real to me, Charlie. I’d never heard anything about you, and I didn’t even know you existed until a little while ago. How would I come up with a real person in my head and turn up at her place?

I know... I’m wondering the same. How pregnant are you? And what is it?

Five months. This time we’ve decided—or rather, I’ve decided—that we don’t want to know. Let it be a surprise.

Nice. But, is it normal to still feel sick that far along? I’ve never had any kids but I thought it was only the first few months.

That’s the norm. I’ve never been too lucky with my pregnancies.

Why do you keep getting pregnant then, if you don’t mind my asking?

Maggie/Charlie laughed hysterically. Believe me, I’ve asked myself that question quite a few times. If I could avoid it, I would. My husband, you must have met him...

Yes, a charmer...

Maggie/Charlie laughed again. You can say that again. Well, he seems to think that if he gets me pregnant I’ll be so busy that I won’t notice he’s playing away from home and sleeping around with anything that moves—not too fast, though, slow enough for him to catch up. Oh, and, before you say, I’ve tried getting pills and other methods behind his back, but he always manages to find out about what I’m doing and ruins it. I’m going to try injections next...

Perhaps the divorce would be easier—and kinder on you.

My three girls deserve better. And yes, he’s not the greatest father but... Perhaps you’re right, though.

Charlie and Maggie went quiet at the same time. Charlie wondered if Maggie would have ever dared to have such an honest conversation about her private life with her friends or her husband. Probably not. Sometimes it was easier to talk to a stranger about the most intimate things. That was an alternative definition of sisterhood for sure. Charlie/Maggie also realised that most of her conversations with friends and women she knew had nothing to do with their real lives, and all with looks, keeping fit or hobbies. And work. Always work.

Work! I was supposed to be setting up a very important meeting this morning. I hope this, whatever it is, will be sorted soon, but it wouldn’t do to have my business and my life completely destroyed in the process. Do you think you could make a few phone calls on my behalf until things get back to normal? You must have seen my mobile. It’s on the bedside table. It has all my contacts.

Yes. Latest model, isn’t it? We can’t afford anything like that. And you have a lovely house.

Yours is very...homely, Charlie/Maggie tried. She’d never been any good at lying, unless it was part of the job, and try as she might it was a tall task to find something complimentary to say about the house she was standing in.

Don’t worry. I know what the place is like. If Todd drank a little less, and I could work more hours, perhaps we could afford somewhere a little better, but nothing like this...Yes, I’m sure I can follow instructions and make the phone calls, with a little guidance. By the way, what do you do for a living?

Help clients—pretty exclusive clients—find investments.

Are you a stockbroker?

No, not really. I did work in the Stock Exchange years back, but I love art, and some clients were interested in tax breaks and investing in something different. So now I find artists and people interested in buying art works. And some other projects, like charities...

Sounds complicated but interesting. I know nothing about any of that.

Let me give you the details...

Charlie/Maggie dictated step by step instructions for what her new self should do to keep things ticking. Mitch, my partner, is very good, and he does most of the donkey work. I tend to work on deals and do most of the wheeling and dealing. At least I no longer have to worry about Bella, my cat. She passed away nearly three months ago.

We used to have a dog, Frankie, but he was run over by a car. I’m due at the nursing home at eleven thirty. And the witch—sorry, I mean Todd’s mother—is coming to drop the girls off from school at four thirty.

What do you do at the nursing home, Maggie?

I clean and help the nurses and other staff. Whatever they tell me to do. Usually change beds, tidy up...

Oh God...

The old ladies and guys are OK, although Macy, the manager, can be difficult if she’s having a funny day.

Tell me where it is and anything else I need to know.

Charlie/Maggie took notes and sighed when she finished. If aliens from another planet had landed in front of her it wouldn’t have been any weirder. That life had nothing to do with her. Being pregnant, with a philandering and nasty husband, three daughters and another child on the way, working in a nursing home... Perhaps she’d done something terrible and this was her punishment. But what had the real Maggie done, other than be a victim most of her life? Perhaps this was somebody’s funny version of poetic justice. Because of all your suffering, you get a new life! All ready to use! Forget about karma and future lives. No, no, right now. Prêt-à-porter.

Chapter 2. Who is me?

DO YOU BELIEVE IN FATE and destiny? Maggie asked.

I’d never thought much about it, one way or another. And you?

Oh, I always read the horoscopes, and I’m fascinated by tea leaf readings, tarot cards, palmistry... If only we’d known how things would turn out...

I doubt any lines on my hand or any cards would have anticipated this. Even the most imaginative writers would have a time coming up with such plot. And I suspect readers would think it was too far-fetched.

Perhaps our paths crossed for a reason. There must be something we should learn from each other.

Charlie/Maggie was glad they were not using Skype, as she knew she’d rolled her eyes. What could she possibly learn from Maggie? To clean toilets? How it felt to be pregnant? Well, if the intention was to make her rethink her policy of no kids, so far it was having the opposite effect. If anything, she was even more convinced than before. Show her the risks of excess eating and no exercise? Her life was exemplary in that respect. Perhaps it was a ploy to make her appreciate her life even more. But why? She loved her life! And if it was all about Maggie... Couldn’t they have chosen somebody else?

Perhaps. No point in offending Maggie and revealing her real thoughts. If she wanted her to cooperate, and ensure that her life kept going smoothly, she had to keep her happy. And for that, she’d have to try and preserve the other woman’s life. Even if it was a nightmare. Although perhaps she could make some improvements.

We could always... Maggie seemed to hesitate.

Go on. It can’t be any weirder than our current situation.

Phone the police. That was my first reaction. I thought somebody had kidnapped me.

But who? And done what? Swapped our bodies over? Who do you think that could be? Harry Potter? If one of us phones the police they’ll think we’re mad. If both of us phone them, with the same story, they’ll think it’s a prank and we’re just trying to waste police time. Would you believe such a story if somebody told you about it? Charlie spoke so quickly she became breathless. Of course, the pregnancy wasn’t helping.

No, you’re totally right. It was just an idea.

If I need to get to the nursing home by eleven thirty, I’ll have to get going. I imagine you don’t have a car.

No. Todd promised me that he’d get one of the really old cars they bring to his garage and renovate it for me, but so far it hasn’t happened. With the new baby I think the priority is trying to swap our old car for a new space wagon so we can fit all the kids in. Oh, I had to do some shopping. I don’t think there’s a lot of food left. There’s a list hanging from a magnet on the fridge. The Eiffel Tower. I’ve always wanted to visit Paris.

It’s well worth a visit. Well, let me know if you have any problems. I’ll get going.

Take the bottle of ginger ale in the fridge with you. It always helps with my nausea.

Thanks. Good luck. Charlie/Maggie hung up and checked the shopping list. It all seemed to be processed foods. Hamburgers, chicken nuggets, fish fingers, crisps, ice-creams, ketchup, mayo, cakes, sweets, sugary treats, soda. No vegetables, no fruit, nothing as it came from the earth or the trees. Gosh! Not surprising that Maggie was rather large and her husband kept teasing her about weight. Although he was no Adonis himself, for sure. Well, perhaps she could change that. She had to be careful with vitamins and all that, being pregnant, but there was no need to let herself go. Or at least she could try to get a bit fitter within her possibilities and current circumstances.

She crumpled the shopping list and opened the fridge and the cupboards to check the supplies. She wrote and alternative, healthier list. Even in this new body, Charlie was up for a challenge.

She changed into her uniform, as Maggie had instructed her, and left. Travelling by bus was a novelty, although not a very pleasant one, but she decided to think of it as a field trip, as if she were doing an ethnographic study on how the other half lived. Some people nodded at her, and she assumed they must be neighbours or people who usually travelled on the same bus and saw Maggie often. She replied to the nods and hoped nobody would want to engage her in a long conversation about something she most likely would know nothing about.

Finally, she reached the stop Maggie had told her about. The nursing home, a fairly unpleasant concrete cube with small windows and a rather dour look, wasn’t far from the bus stop. ‘Wisdom and Experience.’ Neither of those concepts seemed to have had much to do with the design of the place, but perhaps the interior would be better. Charlie somehow doubted