Lori Wegner

By Harry Harris

The dictionary informs us that a psychiatrist is a physician who specializes in psychiatry, the branch of medicine that deals with the diagnosis, treatment, and prevention of mental disorders.
However, in the story that follows, Dr. Daniel Ostenburgh, who is a renowned psychiatrist, does not always abide by the Hippocratic Oath that all physicians must obey: The oath, attributed to the great Greek physician, Hippocrates, incorporates a code of ethics for physicians, which to this day is administered to those about to receive a medical degree.
And why doesn’t Dr. Ostenburgh comply with that profound oath while treating many of his patients? It’s because he has a disgusting, evil, dark side to his mental constitution: a sexual penchant to have sex with attractive young girls under the age of five.

Be that as it may, one of the doctor’s victims, Lori Wegner, who was molested by the doctor when she was a child, manages to get even with him when she grows up and comes of age...even though she becomes a wonted killer to do so.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harry Harris
• Release date: Mar 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311644749

Book preview

Lori Wegner

(a wonted Killer)

An exciting, albeit unconventional, murder mystery

By Harry Harris

Copyright 2015 Harry Harris

Published by HERCULES-APOLLO MYSTERIES

at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

#prologue

#Chapter1

#Chapter2

#Chapter3

#Chapter4

#Chapter5

#Chapter6

#Chapter7

#Chapter8

#Chapter9

#Chapter10

#Chapter11

#Chapter12

#Chapter13

#AboutAuthor

#Otherbooks

Prologue

The dictionary informs us that a psychiatrist is a physician who specializes in psychiatry, the branch of medicine that deals with the diagnosis, treatment, and prevention of mental disorders.

However, in the story that follows, Dr. Daniel Ostenburgh, who is a renowned psychiatrist, does not always abide by the Hippocratic Oath that all physicians must obey: The oath, attributed to the great Greek physician, Hippocrates, incorporates a code of ethics for physicians, which to this day is administered to those about to receive a medical degree.

And why doesn’t Dr. Ostenburgh comply with that profound oath while treating many of his patients? It’s because he has a disgusting, evil, dark side to his mental constitution: a sexual penchant to have sex with attractive young girls under the age of five.

Be that as it may, one of the doctor’s victims, Lori Wegner, who was molested by the doctor when she was a child, manages to get even with him when she grows up and comes of age…even though she becomes a wonted killer to do so.

Chapter One

Dr. Daniel Ostenburgh, Mesa, Arizona’s renowned psychiatrist, loved Sundays. It was the only day in the week that he could do as he pleased; the only time that he wasn’t encumbered with any of his patients’ mental disorders.

Dr. Ostenburgh employed five people to help him not only with his work as a psychiatrist but also in the manner in which he lived:

Miss Frances Hillings: A highly efficient SECRETARY that kept his office, which was housed in the corner of his luxurious mansion, functioning smoothly.

Mrs. Martha Towers: A CORDON BLEU COOK who was a stickler concerning the doctor’s well-being and would only prepare dishes for him with his health in mind.

James Morgan: His CHAUFFEUR. He made certain the doctor not only arrived safely but on time for all of his appointments.

Miss Maryann Rogers: His HOUSE KEEPER. She not only kept his home spotless, but she also managed the various domestic matters in his household.

And Dr. Harold Vaughan: His GARDENER. He kept the grounds surrounding his mansion looking paradisiacal.

In any event, the doctor’s five employees also loved Sundays because it was a day that they too could do as they pleased…for it was their day off as well.

As was his wont on Sundays the doctor, who always slept sans clothing, would get up and out of his bed at whatever hour he chose, walk naked into the kitchen, turn on the coffee maker, and then leisurely prepare breakfast for himself; a ritual that he thoroughly enjoyed and one that was always the same: A five-egg omelet with lots and lots of unions and garlic and cooked in an ample dose of olive oil; a slice of heavily buttered toast, and a dozen slices of extra-thick bacon fried to a medium-rare consistency. It was a dish that his cook, Mrs. Towers, refused to make for him. In any case, on this particular Sunday when he was finished fixing his morning meal, he placed it on a tray along with a large cup and the pot of coffee -- its contents now brewed and ready to be imbibed -- and carried it out to his garden placing it on a table that was alongside his attractive swimming pool. However, before he began refreshing his inner man he looked through the Sunday newspaper that was there, found its Business Section and quickly checked on how the Stock Market was doing. Satisfied that it was continuing to be bullish, he tossed the paper aside and began consuming his breakfast. As he did he smiled to himself as he looked around him, knowing full-well that the way he had his luxurious home built, which was in the middle of his wall-encircled estate, and the clever way his gardener had arranged the grounds, placing beautiful large plants, bushes and trees everywhere, which shielded him from prying eyes, that he could not only swim in the nude in his attractive pool but walk lingeringly in any part of his property without a stitch of clothing on, and no one would be able to see him and perhaps be offended. However, he was vain enough to believe that although he was sixty years old that he had the body of a man half his age, and he felt that if anyone did see him divested of clothing that it would be a laudable sight for them. In any event, when he was through with his breakfast he sat back quietly in his lounge chair and not only enjoyed the spectacular sight of the exotic flora that surrounded him…but also the intoxicating aroma that exuded from them. And as he did he couldn’t help but compliment himself about how solvent he had become…thinking how cleverly he had invested the vast fortune his father left him when he died and how he had quadrupled it over the years. He smiled contentedly to himself knowing that he had everything a man could wish for in life. Nevertheless, with vainglorious thoughts about himself flowing through his mind, he took a bottle of brandy from a small cupboard, which was housed conveniently under the table he had been eating on, and poured several ounces of it into his cup of coffee. He then sat back in his lounge chair, took a healthy swallow of the enhanced java, lit his first cigarette of the day taking a long drag on it…and as he always said aloud after expelling large, perfect rings of smoke in the air, Life couldn’t be sweeter; I feel like a Turkish Pasha who… But the words stuck in his throat for he saw someone moving stealthily behind some of the trees in his garden; seeing a stranger on his property so startled him that he fell out of his chair knocking over the table he had been eating on. Although he only saw the figure but a fleeting moment it was enough to terrify him. He didn’t move for the longest time but remained on the ground frozen in position with fear. However, despite his trepidation, when he finally came to his senses he got to his feet and trying hard to keep his voice from sounding panic-stricken, he shouted, Whoever you are…you have no right to be here. If you don’t leave at once I’m going to call the police.

Don’t bother, doctor, someone shouted, we’re already here. A moment later two men emerged from behind a thick cluster of bushes and approached the psychiatrist.

When the doctor saw who the men were he said angrily, Jesus Christ…what’s the matter with you guys…you gave me such a scare that I fell out of my chair.

So we noticed, Doctor, one of the two men said with tongue in cheek. In any event, Dr. Oxtenburgh, although we’ve met before, which was at the Mesa Police Station that you’d visit now and then when there was a call for your services, you may not remember us…so we’d better introduce ourselves. I’m Det. Jeff Conradi and this is my partner Det. Philip Xenopolos. So, now that you know who your interlopers are I’m sure you’re feeling a great deal better.

Yes, now that I know who invaded my privacy…of course, I’m feeling better…but you detectives should have had more sense than to creep up on a man the way you did; do you realize that you almost gave me a heart attack?

We’re sorry about that, Det. Conradi said, but it was important for us to see you right away…and believe me, it wasn’t easy making like Hannibal and climbing over your Alps-like wall to see you…because…

Although I haven’t worked as often with you detectives at the Mesa Police Station as I have with other police units, the doctor said interrupting Det. Conradi, I do have a good memory for faces so I do recognize you two. Nevertheless, as you should know, I usually bend backwards to help you guys when my services are called for…so if there was an urgent need for you to see me why in hell didn’t you call me instead of climbing over that unusual wall of mine and onto my property like thieves in the night and frightening me half to death?

Det. Conradi didn’t answer him immediately; instead he picked up the table that had been overturned, set it up properly where it originally stood, and then taking the table cloth that had been on it he tossed it to Dr. Ostenburgh and said with a touch of sarcasm, Here, doctor, wrap this around your middle; seeing you naked and hearing you refer to yourself as a Turkish Pasha doesn’t do justice to the fine reputation you enjoy. As the doctor was adhering to Jeff’s suggestion, Det. Conradi, with his partner’s help, placed three lounge chairs around the table and as they sat there they motioned for the doctor to join them. As he did, Det. Conradi said, Now doctor, I’m going to tell you why we were forced to climb over that high mountainous wall of yours to see you…and please don’t say a word until you hear me out: At two o’clock this morning we were awakened by a call from our captain; -- that’s Capt. Anders, who’s a friend of yours I understand -- with orders to get out here to the entrance of your property where it was reported that a man was lying dead there in a pool of blood. When we got here we found that a man, whose hands were tied together behind his back, had been shot, gang style, in the back of his head. We questioned the people that had gathered around the crime scene to see if any of them heard or saw what had taken place there, but none of them were of any help to us. We immediately called for our forensics team to join us; we wanted them to examine the victim as well as the area in front of your place to see what DNA profiles and fingerprints they could uncover…however…

Wait just a minute, the psychiatrist said angrily interrupting

Det. Conradi again, just because a dead body is found at my front gate doesn’t mean that I or any of my patients had anything to do with it…so why are you here questioning me about it?

I’ll tell you why, Det. Conradi said sternly. Last week, -- just last week mind you -- at two in the morning a dead body was discovered in front of your property. When we examined it we found that the victim’s hands were tied behind him and that he was killed gang style by being shot in the back of his head. On further examination we found that his name was Frank Bosworth and that he was a patient of yours. So, here we are now… exactly a week later… with a similar murder on our hands. A dead body is found in front of your place once again…and it didn’t take long for us to ascertain that the person was also killed gang style. In both cases the victims hadn’t been robbed; they had their money, jewelry, credit cards, driver licenses and other valuables still on them…so, it became obvious to us that the killer wanted us to know who the victims were. So, from the second victim’s driver’s license we learned that his name was James Newbury. Now since both murders took place practically at your front door, doctor, we didn’t believe it was simply a coincidence…so what we had to do, and do so quickly, was to ascertain if the second victim was also a patient of yours. That information, as you can understand, would be a great help to us in ultimately apprehending the killer. When we questioned your neighbors we learned that you rarely left your home on Sundays, so when we called and couldn’t get you on the phone we were concerned that you may have been a victim as well…so we were forced to climb over those so-called mountains that surround your place to get to your mansion to check on you. So here we are… and we’re pleased to find that you’re safe and sound. However, Dr. Ostenburgh, since we’re here now…we would appreciate it if you would tell us if the victim, James Newbury, was one of your patients…and that if he were, it would be helpful if you told us something about him.

Damn it, detectives, you know very well that what takes place between a psychiatrist and his patient is a personal and private matter, which is protected by law; therefore, I cannot be forced to disclose the reason why any of my patients come to see me or what has been said between us. So, I’m afraid you’ll only be wasting your time questioning me about the victim.

Det. Conradi was miffed. Doctor, he said harshly, the least you can do is tell us if he was a patient of yours or not; that certainly wouldn’t be defying the law or going against any Hippocratic Oath you may have taken.

Dr. Ostenburgh didn’t answer the detective immediately. He was thoughtful a moment and then he said, Yes, James Newbury was a patient of mine…but that’s all I’m going to say about him.

Thank you, doctor, Det. Conradi said sarcastically. And to his partner he said, Come on, Philip, let’s get the hell out of here; the flowers’ delightful aroma notwithstanding the stench in this garden is devastating.

For crying out loud, detectives, the doctor said, why are you guys getting so upset? You know it’s against the law for me to disclose any information about my patients. Nevertheless, you should know that if that wasn’t the case I’d take you into my office right now and play the tapes of the sessions I had with both of those victims…but that’s something the law forbids me to do.

I wish that when laws are made, Det. Conradi said angrily, that sometimes they’d favor us detectives instead of always being beneficial to the criminals.

I agree with you wholeheartedly, Dr. Ostenburgh said, but until they are I have no choice but to abide with the laws as they now stand. In any case, cheer up; I’m sure you’ll eventually break the case and you won’t need anything those two victims may have said to me to do it. Smiling wryly he added, Now come on, I’ll drive you to the front gate, and with tongue in cheek he added, it will save you the trouble of having to climb those mountains again to get out of here.

Well, that’s the least you can do, Det. Conradi said stringently. With that, he and Det. Xenopolos followed the doctor to the side of his mansion where he had his car parked. When Det. Conradi saw it, he whistled and said, Boy, what a beauty! How long have you had this baby?

This Rolls-Royce has been in the family for ages; my father, knowing how much I fancied it, left it to me in his will.

What a terrible way to treat such a great automobile,

Det. Conradi said. You should keep it in your garage. Don’t you know that the Arizona sun hates cars, especially big, black, beautiful ones?

Oh, I know all about the Arizona sun, Dr. Ostenburgh said whimsically, and I do keep this gem in the garage…but last night I was a bit hung over and I just didn’t feel like it. Anyway, I’m not drunk now so hop in, and don’t worry I’ll get you to the gate safely.

As the detectives got into the Rolls-Royce, Det. Conradi said bemusedly, You know doctor…talking to you about the James Newbury murder that took place a few hours ago at your front door, didn’t help our investigation one bit; however, seeing your spectacular, entrancing estate was worth our having to climb over the Alps to see you. Your gardener is a genius, so please extend our compliments to him.

I’ll be sure to tell him how appreciative you are of his work, the doctor said sarcastically. With that, he got into his car and drove the detectives to the front gate of his estate. During the short drive not a word was said between them; however, as the detectives were getting out of the Rolls, Det. Conradi said, I suggest, doctor, that you remain in the car because if your neighbors see you dressed as you are, they’ll go bananas wondering what exactly you’d been up to? And there goes the neighborhood! And chuckling loudly the detectives left the Ostenburgh estate.

Ignoring the detective’s comments, the doctor drove the Rolls back to the center of his estate and parked it by his mansion again, making a mental note to put it into the garage after he was through exercising in his pool. However, he didn’t get out of the car immediately…instead, he just sat there a few minutes thinking about the murder that had taken place in front of his estate and wondering what effect it would have, if any, on him and his practice. Ultimately, he got out of his Rolls Royce and walked around the mansion to the area by the swimming pool where his hapless ordeal had begun. He picked up the empty coffee cup and the bottle of brandy that were on the ground, noting happily that they were still intact, and then he sat contentedly in one of his lounge chairs. He wiped the glass with part of the table cloth that was around his middle and poured several ounces of the brandy into it…and then he lay back in his chair, closed his eyes, and began sipping the intoxicating beverage delightedly. As he did, he thought of the two patients of his that had been brutally murdered, wondering why they had been killed and why, of all places, in front of his estate? When his glass was empty he opened his eyes in order to replenish his drink and, as he did, he was so startled by the sight in front of him that he fell out of his lounge chair again. What he saw that frightened the life out of him was a woman sitting quietly at a table near him with a sinister smile on her face and with a gun in her hand pointing directly at his head.

Remaining on the ground where he fell, the doctor, having come quickly to his senses, looked up at the woman and said, Jesus Christ, Lady, you gave me the fright of my life…anyway, who are you and what are you doing here? When the woman didn’t answer him but kept glaring menacingly at him, he decided that he’d better start thinking of something piteous to say to her that would help him get out of the dangerous situation he suddenly found himself in. He got up slowly and as he sat in the lounge chair he said, If you came here looking for your two detective friends, I’m afraid you’ve missed them; they just left. When the woman still didn’t answer him, he said, Listen, Lady, I’m sure you have a good reason for coming here…so what do you say we discuss whatever your problem is like two civilized human beings? In fact, if you’ll permit me, I’ll go get another glass and we can have a drink together as we do. When the woman still didn’t say a word to him but continued to stare threateningly at him, he began getting extremely nervous. Look, Miss, he said, I’m a psychiatrist and if you have a problem that’s bothering you…perhaps I can help you with it.

A diabolical smile creased the woman’s face as she said, Doctor, I can’t believe you haven’t realized who I am and why I’m here.

The doctor stared at the woman for quite some time without saying a word, his mind racing back in time as he tried desperately to remember some of the sessions he had with women, but he couldn’t come up with a thing about the female in front of him. I’m sorry, he eventually said, but nothing about you seems to jar my memory bank. And with a woman with your exquisite appearance I never would have forgotten you.

Continuing to smile ominously at him, the woman said, We would have been having this conversation sooner, Doctor, but just as I was about to make my presence known to you I saw two men climbing over the wall and onto your garden and I watched them as they began making their way toward you, so I was inclined to hide from them. Nevertheless, when the three of you were together I heard the conversation that ensued between you and I learned that they were detectives trying to find clues concerning the murder that had taken place at your front door earlier this morning. With her terrifying smile morphing into one of cynicism, she added, but they’re gone now and they can’t be of any help to you…so let’s get down to the business at hand, which is why I’m here. She stared at the doctor for the longest time without saying a word to him, the silence compelling him to perspire profusely, which was, of course, its sole purpose. Enjoying his nervous reaction, she smiled lopsidedly at him and said, It’s a given, doctor…I’m going to kill you. But it’s only fair that you know who I am and why I’m going to send you to your Monarch of Hell. After pausing a moment, she said, I’m Lori…Mary Wegner’s daughter. With her smile still boding evil, she added, That should certainly break open your memory bank; surely, now you remember who I am and why I’m here.

No, I honestly don’t remember who you are, and I certainly can’t understand why you’re here, Dr. Ostenbourgh said fearfully as he tried to recall some of the sessions that he had with Mrs. Wegner. My God, he finally added, that was more than twenty years ago! I’m sorry but I’m having a little trouble remembering why your mother came to see me and what her problem was and…

In that case, Dr. Ostenburgh, Lori said, since we’re here alone with no one to interrupt us, I’ll refresh your memory by telling you a story about my family and how my mother got to be a patient of yours and why I’m here now to put an end to you and your abominable practice:

-o-

George Wegner was beyond himself. Mary, he said to his wife, now you’re being ridiculous; you’re beginning to sound like a foolish hypochondriac. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the girls and you know it.

"For God