Code blue, p.20
Code Blue, page 20
“Perhaps a week. I don’t want to rush into anything.”
“That’s wonderful,” Clayton gushed. A few extra bucks in her pocket. On the one hand, she was grateful for her job. On the other hand, her nephew was a cheapskate when it came to rewarding her. Sure, she made a good salary, but she was doing double time as office manager and sales representative. The pressure had been on, and she was looking for more ways to keep up the profit margins. The pharmacy thing could have easily blown up in her face.
Myra shook Edith’s hand. “Thank you again, Edith. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” Then she slipped her hand in her pocket and hit the send button for the text she typed into her phone earlier: Done.
“Or any time.” Edith waved.
While the two had been chatting outside, Izzie walked to the printer in the open area of the offices. Clayton’s was on the opposite end of the hall, away from Izzie’s and Regina’s, and the ladies’ room. She had to think of a reason why she would be on the other side of the office space, should anyone ask. “Sorry, I got turned around. Second day here,” was going to be her answer. Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that. The only thing she could glean from her trip around the cubicles was a photo on a shelf on the far wall of Clayton’s office. It was in a gold frame. There were three smiling faces: a man with a woman on each side of him. Izzie recognized two of them. One was Edith Clayton, and the other, Senator Spencer Gerber. She imagined the other woman might be Janet Turner. She was too old to be Gerber’s wife. She didn’t dare take a photo of the photo for fear Big Brother was watching. But now there was surefire evidence of a connection. Izzie slipped back into her office just as Clayton returned through the security door. Izzie still wasn’t sure why there was so much surveillance and security for an administrative office.
Arizona
Kathryn was ready for her second first day of work. She arrived before seven. When she got to the gate, the security guard phoned the long-term care unit. “Kathryn Lucas reporting for work.” He nodded, then pushed the button that lifted the gate. “Take your first right. When you get to a T-intersection, make a left. It’s the last building on the right.”
“Thanks.” Kathryn gave him a salute and drove away. When she made the left turn, she noticed a large grove of trees on the right, just before the building. That’s where the trio must have crawled. Can’t wait to meet them. She chuckled to herself. It was a gutsy move, no doubt.
She pressed the buzzer. A few seconds passed before a voice responded. “Yes?”
“Kathryn Lucas reporting for work,” she said, then muttered under her breath, “again.”
The buzzer sounded, and she pulled the frosted glass door open. She stepped into the small vestibule with the Cheshire Cat waiting behind a plexiglass window. “Hello. You must be Kathryn.”
“Hello. Yes.” Who else would I be? I just told you twenty seconds ago. Kathryn had already formed an opinion. She. Did. Not. Like. This. Place.
Smiley slid a clipboard through the small slot at the bottom. “Please fill this out.”
Kathryn looked around. No chairs. Swell. She leaned her back against the wall and began the paperwork. When she finished, she slid it back to the Cheshire Cat. “Someone will be with you shortly.”
Kathryn noticed how eerily quiet the place was. No visitors? She suspected the rest of the staff was behind the large steel door with the security lock. She heard a buzz, and the door opened. She tried not to laugh. Images of Louise Fletcher, who played the character in the movie, ran through her mind until the brusque, burly, brute-faced woman appeared. At least she was attractive in the movie!
“You Lucas?”
She refrained from actually saying, “Who else would I be?” Instead, she replied, “Yes, I’m Kathryn Lucas.”
“I’m Turner. Follow me.”
When they got past the first door, she unlocked another, which took them to a small work area. A short hallway led to an empty nurse’s station on the left and what appeared to be a ward on the right. A dozen beds were lined up on one side, with a long curtain that separated them from cubicles with windows that faced a hallway. Almost like small viewing rooms. Kathryn noticed less than half the beds were empty. With the exception of two people in wheelchairs, the others were hooked up to machines. It was like a scene from a horror or dystopian movie.
Turner stopped in front of the desk. “You’ll sit here for your shift. You’re to give meals according to the roster. Change out bedpans and check fluid lines.”
Kathryn knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to interrupt the woman, but she had to ask, “Check the lines?”
“Just make sure they’re not clogged,” she sneered.
It was getting creepier by the minute. “And the two in the wheelchairs?”
“I’ll give them their meds,” she replied.
Kathryn craned her neck to get a better look at the woman in the wheelchair. The one with the ring. The woman’s eyes were closed, and her head was slumped to one side. Kathryn wanted to say something but decided against it. She’d wait until she was alone with the patients.
Turner brought Kathryn into the supply room. “Based on your qualifications, I assume you know what everything is and how to use it. Your shift runs until four. I’ll be back in two hours to check on you.” She handed Kathryn a key card. “This will get you in and out these two doors. Bathroom is over there.” She jerked her head toward the far wall, turned, and walked past the patients to the far end to another secure door. That one had a red light above it, and a sign that said:
DO NOT ENTER. ALARM WILL SOUND.
Kathryn watched the woman buzz herself through the ominous doors. She suspected they led to the lower level. The level that Kathryn had to figure out a way to get to. She pulled out what looked like a cell phone. It was a bug or surveillance detector. She didn’t look up when the device signaled there were two cameras in the room.
She decided to walk down the aisle where the patients were lined up. It was just a matter of time for most of them, with the exception of the woman in the wheelchair and the gentleman in the other. He, too, looked like he could fall over. She smiled at any face that could look back at her.
“Hello. I’m Kathryn.”
She jumped when the woman in the wheelchair feebly clutched Kathryn’s pant leg. Kathryn bent over to hear what the woman was trying to tell her. The woman’s voice was less than a whisper. Kathryn thought the woman said, “Make them stop.” When she asked her to repeat it, the rear, secret door flew open.
“What are you doing?” Turner demanded.
Kathryn bolted upright. “Nothing. I mean, I was just checking the patients. Their lines, like you asked.”
“Does that woman look like she is attached to anything?”
“No, but …” Kathryn was immediately cut off.
“Do what you’re told. I don’t know why they felt the need to hire someone,” she muttered, turned, and went back to the clandestine door.
Kathryn realized Turner had been watching her. Careful, she told herself. At least she got a good look at the ring. It matched Theresa’s photo. This woman had to be Aunt Dottie. At the moment, there was little she could do. But it wouldn’t be long.
Chapter Fifteen
“We’ve Got a Problem”
Pinewood
Charles and Fergus were growing increasingly frustrated at the walls they were hitting as they tried to track the money. One of the few, yet important, things they managed to discover was the two long-term care facilities were not properly licensed. Fergus suggested they have an anonymous whistle-blower contact Robert Hannah, informing him of unlicensed facilities. He and Charles were certain it would bring the rats out from the woodwork. Panic usually does such things. The question was, who would be the first one to fold?
Washington, D.C.
Maxwell Hawthorne was being hounded by his buddy, Senator Spencer Gerber. “You’ve got to introduce that bill to the committee, get it voted on so the Senate can pass it.”
Gerber was referring to a funding bill that would put millions into human resources. His human resources. It would allocate more money to state-funded long-term care facilities. With the matching funds from the individual states, Sunnydale could be in for the boost they needed. Gerber refused to accept that his vision of his lavish lifestyle was more difficult than he planned. As the saying goes, “it looked good on paper.”
There was a lot of pressure from both sides to cut spending, but elder care was almost off-limits. What people didn’t know was that some of those funds were being siphoned off with clever business logistics.
Maxwell told him many times that the numbers were not sustainable. He repeated it to his cohort, who was sitting in front of him. “We are overspending.”
“You gotta spend money to make money,” Gerber responded.
“Not if you don’t have it,” was Hawthorne’s response.
“Hey man, what world are you living in? It’s all smoke and mirrors. We inflate the value to get more money from the banks if necessary.”
“We’ve had this discussion before, Spencer. Looking for investors, private or public, could bring scrutiny we do not want.”
Gerber pinched his nose, then opened his arms wide. “My friend, we are creating a perfect world for old folks.”
“Some of those old folks have old ideas about money. Not all of them want to put it in our trust or leave it to us.”
“But they don’t know they’re leaving it to us. We set up charity funds, remember?” He stood. “Listen, my man, I have a meeting to get to. Let’s continue this convo during the week.” He stopped. “Nah, let’s not continue this convo. You’re getting yourself worked up for nothing. Just get that bill on the table, and we’ll be golden.” Gerber turned on his heels and left the congressman’s office.
Hawthorne shook his head. “Right. Charity.” The only charity funds money was going to was to his spoiled wife, and Gerber’s drug habit.
Max recently discovered his “partner’s” affinity for crystal methamphetamine, commonly known as ice. It was highly addictive and was becoming a financial burden on their private business account. Max knew they were in deep. Very deep. Doo-doo deep. There were moments when he wanted to pack it in. But how? Where? It was a “rock and a hard place” moment.
Something else was going sideways. Max noticed his wife and Gerber were getting a little too chummy. He overheard a conversation she was having with “Spencey” over the phone. They were speaking in very low tones, and Max knew they weren’t planning a surprise party for him. On the other hand, maybe they were, but it was some other kind of surprise. He almost wished she would leave him for Gerber. That would take care of one of his problems.
Max’s congressional aide knocked on his door. “Robert Hannah is here to see you.”
His head jerked up. “Robert is here?” Max’s palms were getting clammy. Hannah was the chairman of the Committee on Oversight and Reform. It was their job to maintain the efficiency, effectiveness, and accountability of the federal government. They hold hearings on a multitude of issues such as cybersecurity, energy, information technology, and health care. If an investigation is warranted, the matter will be charged to the various subcommittees. It was a complicated process, one that Gerber promised he and Max’s scheme would be invisible to, since their take was minuscule compared to the overall budgets.
Maxwell stood and extended his hand to his visitor. “Robert. What brings you to this side of the building?”
“Good to see you, Max. May I sit down?”
“Yes, of course. Can I get you anything?”
“No. Thanks.” Robert was a very imposing man. His six-feet-four build carried over two hundred and twenty-five pounds of weight. He had been working on The Hill for almost thirty years and had a reputation that made an angry bull look like a puppy dog. Max placed his hands in his lap. He didn’t want the senior member of Congress to see him trembling.
“I understand you are introducing a new bill to further fund long-term care facilities.”
Max nodded. “I’m from Florida,” he said, with a nervous chuckle.
“I understand.” Robert didn’t laugh at the offhanded joke. “However, during the last audit, we discovered that there are funds going to private companies, some of which are not licensed by their state, or their licenses have lapsed.”
Max tried not to hyperventilate. Would their plot be taken down by a stupid clerical error? He made a mental note to check with Spencer’s aunts.
“That doesn’t sound right.” Max pretended to be concerned, but for reasons other than himself.
“Which is why we need due diligence on the programs that are in place before we can try to squeeze more money out of the budget,” Robert explained. “That is why I am asking you to scrap your bill for now.”
Max had two separate internal reactions. The first was relief that he wasn’t being investigated; the other was panic about finding money.
“Of course. Whatever you say. I surely don’t want the money going to unofficial organizations.”
“Good. Glad we see eye to eye on this one.” Robert rose from his chair. “Thanks, Max. You have a good future ahead of you.”
As soon as the congressman was out of his office, Maxwell Hawthorne heaved into his trash can. Spencer Gerber was not going to be happy.
Max sent a text to Spencer: We need to talk. NOW.
Chapter Sixteen
The Next Phase
Arizona
Before Annie drove over to Sunnydale, she phoned Theresa, introduced herself, and invited her to meet later in the afternoon.
The next steps were to find out what was behind the heavily guarded door and get a copy of Dottie’s medical records. Once that was done, they could track down the culprits and discharge the justice they most likely deserve, rescuing Aunt Dottie in the process.
Annie pulled into the main entrance, rolled down the driver’s window, and peeked over her round Saint Laurent sunglasses. “Hello. I have an appointment with a Ms. Turner.”
Annie was baffled when she was told she would be meeting with Nurse Ratched. Maybe she wasn’t really a nurse. Maybe she was simply the brute that ran things. She was about to find out.
The security guard made the obligatory call, nodded, gave Annie instructions, and pushed the button that opened the gate. Annie chuckled to herself. Anyone in a Range Rover could slam through that piece of wood hanging on a hinge. She supposed it made people feel more secure.
When she pulled in front of the main entrance, a valet greeted her. “Welcome to Sunnydale, Ms. Dresden.”
“Thank you.” She floated out of her car like any celebrity would. The young man scurried to the front door and opened it for her.
“Ms. Turner will be with you shortly.”
Annie entered the luxurious lobby. The sound of Native American flute music floated through the air. A perky woman behind a long, stone counter greeted her.
“Please have a seat, Ms. Dresden. Ms. Turner is on her way. She asked that I apologize for her delay.”
“No problem. I have loads of time.” She flashed a wide grin.
Several minutes later, a brutelike woman barreled toward her. “I am so sorry to keep you waiting. I have a new hire, and she doesn’t seem to know how to follow instructions.”
That would be Kathryn. Annie laughed to herself. “No worries.” Annie noticed Turner was not wearing a nurse’s uniform. Instead, she wore a sleeveless smock that was a tad too tight. She’d ask Kathryn later what Turner wore in the care unit.
“The grounds are beautiful,” Annie commented.
“Yes, we are very committed to maintaining the landscape, and all the other amenities here at Sunnydale. I understand you are interested in one of our villas?”
Annie and Myra agreed they would follow the same script. “Yes. I’d like to stay on the premises for a few days to get a feel for the place. Would that be possible?”
“Of course!” Turner was actually pleasant. “I can arrange for you to stay in the model I am about to show you. Shall we?” Turner motioned for Annie to follow her through the massive lobby that led to the outdoor palazzo. It was almost identical to the Florida version, except it had more of a Southwestern feel to it.
Turner pointed out the small shops, hairdresser, barber, shoemaker, and jewelry store. Jewelry. Interesting. She made a mental note to ask Myra if there was also one in Florida. Just as had happened with Myra’s experience, an attendant drove them in a golf cart to the far side of the complex where the villas were located. Annie could barely contain herself thinking how her souped-up version could blow past the rig they were riding in.
Annie listened intently while Turner pointed out the tennis and pickleball courts and their prized golf course. When they arrived at the enclave of luxury single-family villas, Turner pulled out a set of keys and opened the massive front door. “It’s on a pressure sensor. You barely need to touch it.”
“Everything is so high-tech these days,” Annie said in awe.
“We want to provide every comfort available. No need to struggle with a door when your hands are full. Am I right?”
“Indeed.”
Turner gave Annie a tour, pointing out more amenities, the lanai, patio, bathrooms, and laundry room. She also explained all the services that were available.
“Do you think I can send for my things and stay tonight?”
Turner was taken aback. “We must fill out the appropriate paperwork first.”
“Of course. Just tell me where to sign.” Annie could see that Turner was chomping at the bit.
“Splendid. Let’s go back to the main office, and we can get you settled.”
“Wonderful. I hope you can also make a few suggestions as to how I can keep myself entertained.” As if Annie needed to be entertained!
The two women climbed back into the cart. Annie would have sworn the attendant pushed the accelerator to the max. Either she wanted to get out of the heat, get rid of Turner, or was told to beat feet to the office.
