Code blue, p.14
Code Blue, page 14
“Absolutely.”
Maggie sat in her car for a few minutes. She hadn’t been inside the station long enough for the interior to be unbearable. She flipped through the pages. “No mention of CCTV out of service. Huh. Now why would they omit that?” She scanned the documents and uploaded them to the mainframe at Pinewood. Maggie looked through her notes from Theresa. Sure enough, Theresa said that she was told there was no security footage, so why did the police leave it out of the report? Things were getting murkier by the minute.
She drove back to the airport, where Roger and the Gulfstream were waiting. With the difference in time zones, Maggie calculated that it would be past midnight before she arrived in Florida. Once they were airborne, she pushed her seat back into a reclining position and decided to get in a few winks. It had already been a long day.
Pinewood
Myra and Annie were filling out the online forms for tenancy at the two Sunnydale locations. Within minutes of their submissions, their cellphones were ringing. Myra took her call in the atrium, and Annie moved to the kitchen.
Both were greeted by the voices of mature women. Both recorded the conversations. When the calls were complete, both realized the women they had been speaking to were working from a script. Almost verbatim. Once the initial interviews were over, Annie and Myra agreed to forward the last three months of their bank statements. The false ones, of course.
Within twenty-four hours, both were accepted to Sunnydale. Both could move in as soon as they wanted. They were told, “New accommodations were opening up regularly.”
Annie asked if she could bring her own golf cart, but unfortunately it was prohibited. Residents were asked to lease them. Myra felt relieved. “At least the seniors in Arizona will be safe from your driving.”
“Aren’t you the funny one?” Annie smirked. “When do we leave?”
“I told them I would arrive the day after tomorrow to look at the available accommodations. If everything was to my liking, I would arrange for my belongings to be shipped. But here’s something interesting. I, too, am to meet with Edith Clayton. You don’t suppose she’s the main warden there?”
“It would make sense if they are running a tight ship. The fewer decision-making people there are, the easier it is to keep track.”
“I agree. The more we find out, the shiftier it seems.” Myra nodded.
“I’m on the same page,” Annie said. “I told them I would let them know when I plan to inspect the premises.”
“We are on the move, my friend!” Myra gave Annie a finger-wiggle high-five instead of the usual slap.
“Oh, I like this version. Much more subtle.”
“Let’s give Charles and Fergus an update,” Myra suggested. They climbed down to the War Room, where the men were gathering more information on Sunnydale.
“Looks like we’re in!” Annie announced. “We shall be inspecting our future quarters in two days.”
“We need photos for your passports and driver’s licenses. I suggest you change the color of your hair, so no one can recognize you.”
“I’ll call Alexis and see what kind of wigs she has. Any particular color?” Myra asked.
“I’m thinking an updated frosted look,” Annie replied.
“I think I’ll go all white,” Myra said. “I’ve been wanting to try it out, anyway. I am surely not particularly fond of all this gray.”
She dialed Alexis’s number and inquired. Alexis wanted to know what length—bangs, or no bangs?
“I’ll go with bangs,” Annie said.
“None for me,” Myra added. “Can you have someone send them over? We need new photos taken.”
Alexis told Myra she could get them over to Pinewood within an hour.
“Excellent. Thanks, Alexis. You may want to include a dark blond wig for Maggie. In case she needs to go on a stakeout. Her red hair is a surefire way to get noticed.”
Alexis had outfitted Maggie numerous times and said she would put a few things together for her.
“I am going to dash home to start packing. Let me know when the wigs arrive,” Annie said as she bounded back up the stairs.
Myra also excused herself, saluted Lady Justice, and exited the massive tech world of Charles and Fergus.
An hour later, a messenger arrived with a trunk filled with wigs and clothes. Myra sent Annie a quick text to let her know their new hairdos were waiting, and it was time to have photos taken for their I.D.s. A few minutes later, the gravel sputtered, announcing Annie’s return. They were like two kids who’d discovered a treasure trove in their mother’s closet.
“Oh, I like this one.” Annie held it up. It was a light brown, collar-length shag cut, with long pieces of blond highlights. She slipped it on her head and checked herself in a mirror. “I think I look like Diane Keaton.” She turned to Myra and slipped on her wire-framed reading glasses.
Myra grinned. “You do, actually. At least a bit.”
Annie continued to check herself in the mirror. “Remember when we snuck into the movie theater to see Annie Hall?”
“How could I forget? We did it on a dare. Can you imagine if we had gotten caught?” Myra cringed. “Why do I let you talk me into such things?”
“Excuse me, dear sister. Look what you’ve gotten me into.” Annie adjusted the wig. She stood in the three-way mirror. From a distance, one could mistake her for the famous actress. They certainly dressed alike.
Myra flipped on a white chin-length blunt cut. She peered into the mirror. “Helen Mirren?”
“Absolutely! Now if you can affect Charles’s accent, you could be her body double,” Annie joked.
“Aren’t we the glamorous ones?” Myra fiddled with the wig. “Let’s go show the gents.”
Annie and Myra sashayed their way into the War Room.
“How do you do?” Myra asked, faking a British accent. Charles did a double take.
“And you, sir?” Annie turned to Fergus.
“Don’t tell our wives, but I think we found us two chippies,” Fergus said with a big grin.
“You look marvelous,” Charles said. “Not that you don’t always look marvelous.”
“Good recovery,” Annie teased.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “We need to take your photos. Who’s first?”
Annie offered and stepped in front of a pale blue screen. Fergus snapped the camera several times. “You can have your pick.”
Next up was Myra, whose hair faded into the background. “Hang on. Let me adjust the setting,” he said, as he turned it into a slightly different shade of blue, all within legal requirements.
Within a few minutes, the photos were incorporated into the new passports and licenses. Charles meticulously checked each one, then handed them over.
“Fantastic! I just might do my hair this way permanently,” Annie said, admiring her photo. “Now, how do you want to manage the travel plans?”
“It’s entirely up to you.” Myra replied.
“I’d say we could fly to Florida together and then I’ll head to Arizona, but that would take too long.”
“I can fly commercial,” Myra said quickly. “I’ll make a reservation.”
“Okay. Good. I’ll keep the plane in Arizona. Once we’ve accomplished what we want, I’ll fly to Florida, where we can finish,” Annie suggested.
“You think we’ll get Arizona sorted first?” Charles asked.
“We already have some sneakers on the ground there. Myra is going to have to do some poking around.”
“Izzie will be working alongside Regina. That might help move the process along,” Fergus reminded them.
“As usual, we can see what happens. Whatever we need to do, we shall do it!” Myra chimed in.
The following day, Izzie and Yoko headed for Florida. They would report to work the day after. Kathryn left her rig at one of the truck stops she frequented when she was in the Southwest. From there, she rented a car for the rest of her journey to Tempe.
Chapter Thirteen
“Places, Everyone!”
Pensacola, Florida
The Arrivals
Administration Office
Izzie pulled in front of the security gate. “Good morning. I have an appointment with Edith Clayton,” she said, handing her phony driver’s license to the security guard. He studied it briefly and then picked up the phone and punched in a number.
“An Isabel Flanders is here to see you.” The man nodded, then handed Izzie’s fake license back to her. “You can park in the visitor spot by the main entrance.”
“Thanks!” Izzie smiled and drove down the long, beautifully landscaped road. “Wow. Yoko is going to have a field day here.” She pulled into the parking space and walked into the opulent lobby. A stunning cascading waterwall was the focal point. Her architectural skills were immediately impressed. A long, polished marble counter was to her left, some plush lounge chairs to her right. She walked over to a young woman behind the counter.
“Good morning. I am here to see Edith Clayton. I’m Izzie Flanders.”
“Hello, Ms. Flanders. I’ll let her know you’re here.” The pleasant woman picked up the desk phone and announced Izzie’s arrival. “She will be right with you.”
A few minutes later, a stern-looking woman emerged from a door to the side of the counter. “Ms. Flanders?”
Izzie smiled her best smile. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand, but Mrs. Clayton already had her back turned.
“Follow me,” she said in a gruff voice.
Izzie couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the woman behind the counter, who stifled a giggle.
Clayton ushered Izzie into an office about the size of a walk-in closet. “This is where you’ll sit.”
Izzie looked around the windowless, austere, sterile room. “Thank you.” Izzie wasn’t sure if she was supposed to sit or continue to stand. Clayton gave her the nod.
“The system is password-protected. You will only have access to files pertaining to food and beverages. You are to process all invoices and properly charge the residents. Each of them sign for their meals and then pay at the end of each month.”
Izzie nodded. “How many residents are there?”
“As of today, we have three hundred fifty-seven. We have three restaurants, including a café. Each resident has a key card that is read after they finish their meal. We tally everything here each day, and then send them a bill at the end of the month.”
“What about tips?”
“They will show up on the itemized bill. One of your responsibilities will be to separate them and then allocate the money to the waitstaff.”
Izzie nodded. It seemed rather easy, but she wasn’t going to mention it. With the number of architectural projects Izzie worked on at any given time, she was more than capable of maintaining a few spreadsheets.
“I see you have been living in Pennsylvania. What brings you to Florida?” Clayton was beginning to act like a human.
“My parents recently moved to Dresden, and I was tired of the winters.”
“Huh. Another snowbird.” Clayton was back to being a battle-axe. “I don’t recall asking upper management for a new hire, but they are planning on breaking ground for a new development in New Mexico. I am sure we will be overseeing the construction accounts. I should know more in a few months.”
Izzie was certain Clayton was not thrilled with the new employee, nor was she thrilled at the prospect of taking on additional work. Izzie guessed Clayton wouldn’t be thrilled by much of anything.
“Okay, so shall I get started?” Izzie asked.
“Yes. Once you log in, you will find the folders for each restaurant. I suggest you familiarize yourself with the records. I’ll be back in an hour to answer your questions.” Clayton didn’t wait for a response.
Izzie let out a whoosh of air. First things first. She looked around the room for cameras. Sure enough, there was one right above her desk. Big Brother was watching. This was going to be tricky, but she was confident Charles and Fergus would figure out a way to circumvent its prying eyes.
Turning to the computer, Izzie noticed she was in “Read Only” mode, which meant she could only view what was in the file. Crabby Clayton hadn’t given her a password yet. Izzie combed through the restaurant folders. Each had a spreadsheet with time and date stamps. The first column was the date, then time, then resident’s name, and then the charges. A drop-down menu listed exactly what each person ate and drank. It was getting creepier by the minute.
A half hour later, Izzie had the program down pat but couldn’t begin to log anything until Ms. Cranky Pants returned. She stood and stretched when there was a soft knock on her door. Izzie got up and answered it.
An attractive woman was smiling at her. Izzie guessed the woman was in her early twenties. “Hi!”
“Hi. I’m Regina. Welcome to Sunnydale.”
“I’m Izzie.” She stepped aside to allow Regina to enter her tight quarters.
Regina made a subtle eye movement toward the camera. Izzie tilted her head in acknowledgment. “We get an hour break for lunch. I usually eat in one of the restaurants. The food is delicious. We have a per diem of twenty-five dollars a day.”
“Mrs. Clayton hasn’t gone over any details with me yet.”
“Oh, okay. Well, let’s have lunch today, unless you have other plans,” Regina offered.
“That would be nice. Thanks. I’d appreciate you showing me around.”
“No prob. See you at twelve-thirty.”
At that point, Mrs. Clayton reappeared. “I see you are already influencing the new person?”
Neither Izzie nor Regina was sure if she was being sarcastic. Izzie’s money was on sarcasm.
“Oh, Mrs. Clayton. I just wanted to make Izzie feel comfortable. Being new and all.”
“Fine. Now, don’t you have something to do?” Edith barked at her.
“Yes, ma’am.” She backed out of the way and moved to her own sterile box across the hall.
Clayton went into a soliloquy. “I expect total professionalism. Everyone must be here at eight on the dot. Lunch is one hour, no more. If you need personal time, then you will either take a personal day, provided you’ve earned it, or you will be docked for every hour you are not on site.” She paused. “Am I making myself clear?”
“Oh, yes,” Izzie said calmly. What she wanted to say was “abundantly,” but that would have gotten her fired during her first hour on the job.
“You have a per diem of twenty-five dollars a day for meals. You will use your I.D. key card at the restaurants. If you do not utilize the per diem, you will not get the cash. Therefore, if you want to leave the premises during your lunch hour, the cost will be your own responsibility. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Cars are to be parked in the rear lot, which is where you will enter and exit from. No more using the lobby as your main access unless you are walking to one of the restaurants, or unless I instruct you otherwise.”
Clayton continued, “We work until four-thirty Monday through Friday. You will get a one-week vacation, and one personal day after six months on the job. After one year, you will be eligible for two weeks’ vacation and two personal days.”
Izzie was nodding. She prayed she would only be there for less than a week. Otherwise, she may want to strangle this miserable woman. Izzie had little patience for women who gave women a bad name. This one fit the bill. She stifled a laugh, thinking that Clayton was Florida’s version of Nurse Ratched. Another woman giving women a bad name. And why do they always take it out on each other? Shouldn’t they direct their wrath, disappointment, and annoyances to the source? We may have come a long way, but not far enough. And if some men had their way, we’d get pushed back into the Dark Ages. Izzie continued to smile in spite of how irritating this woman was. It had little to do with how she spoke to Izzie. It was more of her general aura: unpleasant.
Clayton handed Izzie a flash drive. “It is your authorization key. You insert it into the drive, and then you will have access to the appropriate files. It is designated for this unique computer. It will not work on any others in the offices. Do you have any questions?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Fine. Then you can start on last night’s dinner expenses.” Clayton shut the door behind her as she walked out.
Izzie didn’t dare take her phone out of her bag. She didn’t know the range of the big red eye above her head. That was going to be the first thing Charles and Fergus were going to have to figure out. She would never be able to hack into the system if there was someone watching over her shoulder. She resigned herself to getting the mundane work done until she could get past the CCTV. Before she knew it, there was another knock on her door. It was Regina.
“Ready?”
Izzie checked the time. “Wow. It’s twelve-thirty already?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Regina chuckled. “Come on. We have two choices for lunch. The Grill or Italian.”
“Let’s do The Grill today. I’m in the mood for a burger.”
The two women exited in the rear of the building, then followed the sidewalk to the large courtyard, where the restaurants faced outward. Regina explained, “This is so the residents don’t have to go through the main lobby.” She nodded to an area surrounded by lush vegetation. “That’s where the residents park their carts.”
“Interesting place,” Izzie noted.
There were narrow main roads that weaved around the duplex buildings, and there were also cart pathways and crossing areas.
“Yes, it is. I mean it’s okay for me for now. The pay and bonuses are great, and you can’t beat the food.”
“What do you have in mind for your future? Career goals?” Izzie followed Regina to the door of the restaurant. “I don’t mean to be nosy. Simply curious. Things change so quickly, I think it can be hard to focus on one thing when a new industry appears.” Izzie chuckled.
“You got that right.” Regina opened the door and greeted the hostess, “Hi, Marie. This is our new hire, Izzie Flanders.”
“Nice to meet you. Welcome to The Grill.”
