Code blue, p.12
Code Blue, page 12
“You have a very good point,” Maggie replied. “I’ll be on my way. Thank you.”
Maggie hurried into Jeremy’s room. She knew she had wasted some precious time with small talk. She slowly approached his bed. “Hi, Jeremy. My name is Maggie. I was asked to come here by my publisher. We’re doing a story on the growing number of hit-and-run accidents that are happening across the country.”
He nodded in acknowledgment and let out a deep sigh.
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time; plus, the visitor police will throw me out.”
Jeremy gave her a weak smile.
“Would it be alright if I came back tomorrow? Hopefully, you’ll feel better?”
“I didn’t do it,” he said in a harsh whisper. He was losing steam.
“Do what?”
He jiggled the handcuffs. “Morphine. I didn’t take it.”
“You didn’t take the morphine? As in ingest it?”
He shut his eyes and slowly turned his head from side to side. “I didn’t steal it.”
“Is that what they’re saying?” Maggie’s eyes grew wide.
Jeremy nodded and closed his eyes.
Maggie leaned in closer. “You get some rest. We will get to the bottom of this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nodded and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Maggie left the room and briefly spoke to the nurse. “May I leave my contact information with you? I’m staying at the Suite Inn. I’ll be here for a while. Could you or someone call me if he needs anything?”
The nurse leaned over the counter once again. “Maybe a good lawyer?”
Maggie gave her a long wink. “I’ll see what I can do, but first I have to find out what in the Sam Hill is going on.”
The nurse looked at Maggie. “Can you tell me why people use that expression? I hear it so many times, but I never bothered to find out.”
Maggie was happy to oblige. “Sam Hill was an engineer who had a foul mouth. After a time, people began to use his name in place of expletives.”
“Well, I’ll be darned. Or should I say, ‘I’ll be Sam Hilled!’” She chuckled.
Maggie gave her a thumbs-up and wrote her info on a sheet of paper. She noted the name tag. “Thanks, Clara. See you tomorrow.”
“Not if I see you first!” the nurse joked.
Maggie hightailed it back to her hotel. She didn’t have a lot of information, but this was enough to share. She checked the time. She had several hours before the group video call and decided to visit the local police station to see if she could get a copy of the police report. She made sure she had her press credentials and gave herself a quick look in the mirror. “Respectable,” she muttered to her reflection.
Before she left, she sent a text to Annie to let her know of her brief interaction with Sykes and that she was now heading to the police station.
When she arrived, she identified herself and asked if she could get a copy of the police report. “It’s for a story on the growing number of hit-and-run incidents.”
A young, fresh-faced cadet listened carefully, then scrutinized her press badge. “Just a moment.” He went into another room and returned with an older, more senior member.
“Good afternoon, Miss Spritzer. Detective Knowles. How can I help you?”
“I was explaining to Officer Kinsky that I am working on a piece for The Washington Post regarding hit-and-run incidents. Did you know they are up over seventy-three percent in the past two years?” Maggie had done her homework.
“No, I had no idea. That is a startling statistic.”
“It is. And many of them are on deserted roads, which would make sense. No witnesses. No security cameras.”
“Good point. So, what is it that you need?”
“If it wouldn’t be any trouble, I’d like to see a copy of the report on the accident that happened two days ago on Highway Fifty-nine. A young man named Jeremy Sykes.”
The officer’s expression changed. “It’s an ongoing investigation.”
“I see. But could you share some of the basic details with me? Time of day? Vehicle impact?”
“I suppose that won’t be a problem. Come with me.” Maggie followed the police sergeant to a small conference room. “Please have a seat. Give me a minute.”
Maggie certainly wasn’t going to share what little information she gleaned from Jeremy. She was primarily interested in whether or not the two stories were in sync.
The sergeant returned with a manila file. Maggie pulled out her notebook. “According to the officer on scene, Mr. Sykes was run off the road by a dump truck. Sykes was dazed and could only remember a few details. He said there were no discernible markings on the truck, no plate, but again, he said it happened extremely fast.”
“And that was it?” Maggie wondered if he was going to reveal the morphine connection.
“As I mentioned, it’s an ongoing investigation.”
“And no one has come forward?” Maggie was scribbling doodles. She already knew the answer.
“Not yet, I’m afraid.”
Over the years, Maggie became proficient in reading things upside down. She saw the words morphine vial found in vehicle; owner denies any knowledge. She also noticed that the ink was blue for that passage, whereas the other part of the report was written in black ink. The owner denies knowledge must have been added. She made a mental note.
“I thank you very much for your time. If there is any other information you can share, please give me a buzz.” This time, she handed over her official business card.
“Will do,” he said, but Maggie doubted it.
The sergeant may not be part of the cover-up or the setup, but she was certain something was amiss.
By the time she got back to the hotel, her stomach was growling for some real food. She had met her junk food quota for the day, and the basket of snacks was empty. She phoned the front desk and asked for a restaurant recommendation, and the nearest grocery store. Time to replenish the basket. The front desk recommended a local bistro that had authentic local cuisine. Maggie wasn’t sure what that meant, but she was up for finding out.
Before she left her room, she phoned Annie to bring her up to speed with what little information she had.
“The police were cordial but failed to mention the morphine found on scene,” Maggie said.
“What was your sense from Jeremy?”
“Honestly, I don’t think he stole it. I think he might have been framed.”
“But why?” Annie asked.
“I don’t know. Yet. I am going to see him again tomorrow. They only give you fifteen minutes of visitor time.”
“Okay. We also need you to get to Tempe. It’s under four hours by air. Can you wrangle your schedule? I’d like you to go back to Pensacola and dig deeper into this morphine thing. You really believe the guy was telling you the truth?”
“There was something about the expression in his eyes. I dunno. But you know that gut feeling thing.”
“You know I do. I make most of my decisions based on it. I can get the jet ready for you after you meet with Jeremy again. What time were you planning on going over there?”
“Probably ten.”
“Good. Once you’re finished with your fifteen minutes of Jeremy, you hustle to the airport. If we get wheels up by noon, and with the time difference, you should be able to get to the Tempe police station by two. Three at the latest.”
“I should also meet with Theresa.”
“Yes. I’ll ask Lizzie to arrange it. You’ll spend the night in Arizona and then take the jet back to Pensacola. We have to get Myra to Florida in the next two days.”
“Roger, dodger.” Maggie wrote everything down. “I’m going to upload my notes, grab a bite to eat, and then jump on the call at nine.”
“Okay, dearie. Talk to you in a bit.”
Maggie opened her laptop and typed her notes. From there, they went to a secure hard drive. When she was finished, she sent them to the secure network so the Sisters, Charles, and Fergus would have access to the information.
As Maggie was leaving for the bistro, her phone buzzed. It was Lizzie, letting her know she contacted Theresa and giving Maggie the when and where to meet the following day. Things were beginning to move quickly, but that was the only way the Sisters operated.
Just before nine, Annie, Fergus, Charles, and Myra headed down the stone steps to the War Room. After the requisite salute to Lady Liberty, they took their seats at the table. Charles had fired up the monitors earlier. They were ready to roll.
At the stroke of the hour, the sound of pings, dings, and chimes echoed through the room as everyone logged into the system with their smiling faces. Greetings, tossed kisses, and waves filled the screens.
“Good to see everyone,” Myra announced. “As some of you are aware, there has been some evidence of foul play down south and southwest. Lizzie, can you bring everyone up to speed?”
“Certainly.” Lizzie began to explain who Theresa was and her reason for the trip to Arizona. Everyone listened intently as she described the personnel Theresa interacted with, the ring, a mysterious woman, and the presumed death of her estranged aunt. She went on to describe the bizarre eyewitness account of the head nurse assisting someone transfer something or someone on a stretcher in the middle of the night.
Fergus chimed in, “We checked the Maricopa County Coroner’s Office, and as of an hour ago, there is no death certificate for Dorothy or Dottie Carpenter. There is, however, one that was signed by a Doctor Grodski for a woman named Helen Discher, age eighty.”
Lizzie also described the hit-and-run after Theresa questioned the head nurse about a woman in a wheelchair. “Theresa claims the woman bore a family resemblance and was wearing the deco ring.” Lizzie pulled up the fuzzy photos Theresa sent her.
Kathryn was the first to speak. “From what I can see, as blurry as it is, the woman in the wheelchair is, in fact, Theresa’s aunt.”
Heads were nodding in the monitors. Izzie was next. “Why do you suppose they are carrying on the charade?”
“That’s what we have to find out,” Annie answered.
Charles explained the many, many layers of incorporations and several offshore accounts. “We did discover that Sunnydale is the recipient of Medicaid funds and government grants.”
“One thing the government cannot hide is where the money goes. It has to be registered. The issue is we can find the beginning of the thread, but not the end of it,” Fergus said, acknowledging the brick wall they’d been hitting. “But rest assured, we shall find those bounders.” All the women clapped and hooted.
Annie leaned into the monitor, where Maggie’s face was shining through. She squinted to get a glimpse of the sideboard that was behind her. “I cannot believe you haven’t touched the basket of snacks.”
Maggie slowly slid down below the camera level.
“Maggie? Oh, Magggee?” Annie called, as if she were beckoning one of the puppies.
A bunch of red curls began to emerge, followed by a small trash basket filled with empty bags from chips, cookies, brownies, and cheese doodles. She raised one hand in front of the camera. It was covered in orange dust.
“Didn’t you just have dinner?” Annie asked with amazement.
“Yes! I was just cleaning up!” Maggie mumbled an excuse.
“Where does she put it?” Izzie asked. “I have to run five miles a day to burn off water! It’s disgusting.” She folded her arms and feigned annoyance.
“I can’t help it if I have an overactive metabolism!” Maggie defended her voracious appetite.
“It’s what your appetite craves that makes me want to fall into a diabetic coma,” Izzie joked. “I’ll take one of Charles’s fabulous dinners over a pile of popcorn.”
“Bravo! Who wouldn’t?” Lizzie said with gusto. “That was a wonderful dinner, Charles.”
“Dinner? Without us?” Maggie whined.
“Let’s focus, girls.” Myra had to rein in everyone. “Annie, do you want to go down the list so far?”
Annie began, “This is what we know. Sunnydale is an exclusive retirement community setting with two locations: one in Tempe, Arizona; the other in Pensacola, Florida. Theresa Gallagher went to see an estranged aunt in Tempe. More details about her encounter to follow. Jeremy Sykes was the pharmacist at Sunnydale in Pensacola, Florida. In the past week, Gallagher and Sykes were both run off the road by dump trucks in two different states. Both had an association with Sunnydale.” Annie continued with the information about morphine found in Jeremy’s car.
Maggie added, “I met the guy. Briefly. But there was something in his eyes. I can’t explain it, but he said he didn’t do it, and I tend to believe him.”
“We first have to think about why he would lie,” Fergus, former head of Scotland Yard, proposed the question. “The obvious answer is that he is simply denying any wrongdoing.”
“But why tell me?” Maggie asked.
“Perhaps he thought you could help him. That would be a logical answer,” Charles added.
“He didn’t ask me to help him. He simply said that he didn’t take it.” Maggie tapped her pen on the desk. “It was unsolicited. I hadn’t even asked him. I think he was looking for someone to tell, who might believe him. There also didn’t seem to be any family members around. Except for me. I posed as his cousin when I went to the hospital. They said that only family members could visit. And for only fifteen minutes. Probably because he’s chained to his bed.”
Lizzie was the next to speak. “Nikki, do you think you can find someone to represent Jeremy if this goes to trial? I have a big caseload. Election season.”
“I’ll look into it,” Nikki offered. “I have a number of colleagues who have a license to practice in Florida or are part of a Florida firm.”
“Great.” Annie jotted it down. “Maggie is heading to Arizona tomorrow after she meets with Jeremy again. When she gets to Arizona, she’ll get together with Theresa at her hotel. After that, she’ll go to the police station and coax them into giving her a copy of the accident report. Once she’s finished there, she’ll fly back to Florida to continue working on Jeremy.”
It was Myra’s turn. “Charles. Fergus. You are going to have to create new identities for both me and Annie. We can keep our first names. No need to get too confused. Also, establish a presence on some social media. Not too much. Us seniors are not very tech-savvy.” Laughter broke out among the crowd. “A Facebook page or Instagram. None of the other stuff.”
“Got it.” Charles and Fergus were quite familiar with the drill.
“Myra Regan? Annie Dresden? Does that work for you?”
“Okay with me,” Annie answered. “I’ll be able to use my good luggage.”
“Ditto,” Myra chimed in.
“We’ll get right on it.”
“Good. Annie and I have to fill out interest forms before they will interview us.”
“Will have it done in two hours,” Fergus promised. “Annie, do you want to be widowed or divorced?”
“Neither. I want to be one of those crazy cat ladies.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Perfect. They’ll try to talk you into letting them oversee your finances.”
“Myra. Children?”
“Yes, but I’ve disowned them.”
“I think there shouldn’t be any ties to family. This will make the acceptance process easier, I am certain,” Charles said.
“Good point,” Myra agreed. “Maybe I should be divorced from my ex who has passed away. He had a son. We don’t speak. Big estate issues.”
“Excellent. You are beginning to create your new personas,” Fergus remarked.
“We’re pros!” Annie chuckled.
“Do you think anyone else needs a cover?” Charles asked.
Everyone looked at one another. No one voiced a yay or nay.
“First thing, Charles, Fergus, post the jobs for Yoko, Izzie, and Kathryn,” Myra said.
“It should be relatively easy, since that part of their system doesn’t seem to be as secure as their financial server,” Charles replied.
“Have at it,” Myra said.
“What if people inquire?” Izzie asked. “Like when I show up for work?”
“I’ll have emails from the corporate headquarters offering all three of you the jobs at the appointed facility,” Fergus added.
“Give us a couple of hours,” Charles said.
“Alright, let’s plan to recon tomorrow morning. By then, we’ll have all our ducks in a row,” Fergus said.
“I plan on going back to the hospital by ten,” Maggie reminded them.
“Does eight o’clock work for everyone?” Charles asked.
Nods and affirmative responses went around the monitors.
“Right. See everyone tomorrow. Mind as you go.” Fergus signed off, and everyone else followed.
Myra and Annie left Charles and Fergus to their devices and returned to the kitchen.
“How many days should we plan on being there?” Annie stopped, then answered her own question: “As long as it takes!” Myra nodded, and Lady woofed in agreement.
“I’d say at least a week. Hopefully, we’ll be able to wrap this up sooner than later, especially since we have Theresa in Arizona. She could prove extremely helpful,” Myra said.
“And, if Maggie does what she does best, which is gain the confidence of Jeremy, then he could also prove to be an asset, or key witness.”
“For sure.” Annie’s wheels were turning. “You don’t suppose this morphine thing has something to do with Sunnydale?”
“At this point, I think Sunnydale has a lot to answer for.” Myra smirked. “We have Theresa’s Aunt Dottie issue, and the mysterious body bags in Arizona, and the missing morphine in Florida.”
“Why do I think there’s even more to this than we’ve already uncovered?” Annie mused.
“Because there always is,” Myra said, chortling.
Chapter Twelve
On the Move
Morning Recon
Everyone was up early and logged in by eight. Charles and Fergus had created Myra and Annie’s new identities. They were confident it was enough to fool whomever was behind this sham. Charles read the profiles:
