Chapter 11: "Let's Play Nancy Drew!"
I awoke all fuzzy-headed and dizzy. Almost pitch black except for a soft glow coming from around a corner. I lit a match. Back in the Asylum. Damn. I reached my hand up my nightgown. Holy crap! I had walnuts! I considered just lying there and squeezing my newly-arrived tiny little tits, but curiosity got the best of me. A note under my door.
"Alice. The idiot twins raped Mary Jo on the first floor about 11:00 PM. They're sleeping it off. Now's a good time to go skulking in the night. Search for evidence of bribe taking. Use your key."
The note had to be from Nurse Dot. Nobody else knew about my key being identical to the administrator's office key.
Poor Mary Jo. A plump, extremely busty 22-year-old with a porcelain-doll face, she must have made an inviting target for the twin orderlies. I remember being jealous of Mary Jo the first time I saw her: her breasts were so big and prominent that they bounced and wobbled with Mary Jo's every step. I envied the breadth of her hips and the size of her big, heavy bottom as well. Mary Jo was so shapely that she made me want to be big and plump someday.
I unlocked my door as quietly as I could cursing all the while the amount of noise the metal doors and locks made. Nobody was in the hallway. I peered around the corner to the right away from the administrator's office. No one. I peered around the corner to the left of my cell. No one. The path was clear to the administrator's office. I rued the fact that I did not have any type of gloves to cover my fingertips. I knew that I would be leaving fingerprints everywhere. I shoved my key into the lock of the administrator's office, turned it, and pulled the door slightly open with it, trying to avoid touching the metal door. Inside, I pulled the door shut by placing the key in the keyhole and pulling. Success! I had avoided touching the door. I looked around for a piece of cloth to cover my fingertips. A doily on a sofa armrest looked better than nothing.
To the administrator's desk. Nothing interesting on top of the desk. The administrator was tidy and organized it seemed. I picked up his "in" box and rifled through it using the doily to avoid touching anything. Not easy at all. I fanned the documents across his desk. Nothing useful. I opened the top drawer. All invoices. I needed the accounting book. Second drawer. Patient records. I resisted the temptation to rifle through my own records. Needed to stay focused on the objective. Bottom drawer. Jackpot. A big thick book titled "Journal," a big thick book entitled "Accounts Payable," and a big thick book entitled "Balances." The big book titled "Balances" had five sections: assets, liabilities, income, expenses, and capital. Traditional double-entry bookkeeping of the type my father had used for managing the Christ Church University in Oxford.
The "Balances" volume looked the most promising for finding evidence of bribery. It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for. In the expenses section, I found the food purchases. According to entries, the Asylum was purchasing rice, beans, dry pasta, fish, pork, fresh fruit, and a few other kitchen basics such as salt, pepper, butter, lard, and olive oil. If we had also gotten the fresh vegetables from the gardens that we worked, I dare say we would have all been a downright chubby-looking lot. I went back to the top drawer with the invoices. There I found fake invoices for food purchases that were never made. All the fake invoices were from the company "Institutional Food Supplies." I suspected that the company did not exist.
I wondered what the penalty was for stealing from the government. Probably nothing if the case went through the courts. Nineteen and I was already cynical. Sure didn't take long for me. Starvation for someone else's enrichment has a way of doing that. I grabbed a piece of scrap paper from the trash can and wrote down the name of the fake food supply company on the invoices. I also scribbled down the amounts of the fake purchases.
Mission accomplished, I put everything back in its place, replaced the doily on the sofa, and exited, pulling the door shut with the key. I gritted my teeth when I turned the key in the lock. I dashed back to my cell, locked it from the inside, and sat down to pant a bit. And feel my "walnuts." Damn it was cool not to be flat as a wooden plank anymore. I gave myself a little "self-stimulation" also. So much easier to sleep afterwards. I wonder if Nancy Drew ever diddled herself to sleep.
End of Chapter 11
This story is based on the characters created by American McGee. EA (Electronic Arts) owns the copyrights.