Deadly Dosage, page 21
“Trying to break in and steal something,” I joked.
“I’ve had my eye on this farmer voodoo doll for a while now,” he said with mock interest.
“That is a keeper. Well, don’t use it on me.”
I entered the office through the back door and turned on the lights as I went. After I stored my belongings, I counted the petty cash to make sure I had it reconciled to the penny. I would have to make a trip to the bank before the end of the week.
Coffee needed to be made, mail needed to be sorted and I needed more migraine pills. Two more hours before I could indulge again. Maybe the caffeine in the coffee would take away some of my head pain. I started the coffee and opened the receptionist window, now covered in leprechaun window clings. Looked like Shantel went gonzo with decorations.
An ambulance pulled up and a stout, woman with short white hair in a paramedic outfit jumped out and entered the building. She came to the front desk and asked for directions to the Medicare wing. I told her and seconds later, our newest admission came through the doors along with a freezing gust of air.
When the computer came up, I checked my e-mails. Autumn sent a lengthy one about Spring’s wedding. Halfway through Shantel scared the crap out of me, with a hand on my shoulder.
“Jesus!” I rubbed my forehead, gazing at her. “Thought you were The Hawk. Now I have to go change my pants.”
“Shouldn’t be using my computer for personal business,” she admonished.
“What are you doing here so early anyway?”
“Taking the kids to the dentist later, so I’m leaving at three. I’m making up the time in advance.”
“Oh. Coffee should be done if you want some. Donna’s here already and the hair dresser called to say she won’t be in tomorrow.” I closed out of the e-mail and exited out of my mail program.
“Mrs. Dixon’s gonna be disappointed.” She took her cup and went to the coffee maker.
I turned to face her. “So how’d it go with Leroy last night?”
Her hand shook as she poured the coffee, causing a bead to drip down the side of her cup. “Shit, that man hasn’t improved at all.” She wiped the drip off the cup with her finger and licked it. “Showed up late, his eyes, all glassy like he’s been smoking some weed. Made me pay for the meal.” She returned to the desk and I rose to leave. “Waste of my time.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“All for the best. The Lord knows what he’s doing child.”
“If you say so,” I shrugged. “Sometimes I think God is just as messed up as the rest of us.”
In my office, I flicked on the computer and attempted to catch up on my filing. The amount of paperwork that crossed my desk could easily create a small mountain in a landfill.
The fun part about filing is the numerous paper cuts you get, especially those made by the edge of a brand new, stiff manila folder. I keep Band-Aids in my drawer at all times. Nobody wants to receive a blood-covered bill, though I’ve sent out a few envelopes that way.
“Sonofabitch!” I yelled. That’s what I get for trying to be neat.
“You okay in there, Sunny?”
“Yeah. Damn paper cut.” Not too deep, so I wrapped a wad of tissue around it and kept filing.
Gus peeked into my office. “Looks like the voodoo doll works.” He laughed and moved on.
Guy’s a real crackup. I sat down and pulled a stack of work in front of me. Bills needed to be sent out soon, so I entered the coinsurance payments I received. Looked like Mr. Schroeder’s insurance denied coverage again. I slid my chair across the floor to my desk and dialed the number on the explanation of benefit form (EOB.)
Ten minutes later, I had a person on the line. I made my inquiry and discovered Mr. Schroeder’s insurance expired a month ago, terminated policy. The Hawk was going to have a shit fit that I didn’t catch this earlier. Was it my fault it took thirty days for a claim to be paid?
According to my calculations, his Medicare coverage would last another ten days, which could keep him going another month with how frequently he returned to the hospital. However, with a month of unpaid coinsurance, he already owed over four thousand dollars not counting this month.
I checked the admission face sheet, found his daughter’s phone number, and dialed. She answered with a snarl.
“Mrs. Foster, this is Summer Kramer, from Ageless Grace,” I said.
“Now what?”
“I need to speak with you regarding your father’s insurance. I called and the insurance company said his policy was cancelled. Did you miss a payment?”
“No, I didn’t miss a payment. I cancelled it. It cost him over five thousand dollars a year for that. No point wasting money, since Medicare pays for everything.”
“Mrs. Foster, I explained to you before that a coinsurance premium is due beginning the twenty-first day of his Medicare stay. His insurance was covering this expense. Without the coverage, he owes over four thousand dollars just for last month.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong.”
“I have the proof in my office.”
“Fine. I’ll be in this afternoon. I suggest you have the proof ready.” She hung up.
I stared at the handset before replacing it. Great. The way I figured it, she had plans for Mr. Schroeder’s money and it didn’t have anything to do with his healthcare. At least with her coming in, I might get to do the orange juice swap but I needed a decoy. Donna. I could have her give the woman some bull about missing paperwork.
I dialed her extension. “Hey, Donna, are you free?”
“For five minutes.” She sounded stressed.
“Enough. I’ll be right there.”
Whipping around the corner, I almost knocked over Shantel who stood in front of the fax machine. “Need to talk to Donna. I’ll be right back.”
I jogged across the hall and entered her cubicle of an office. “Get’s more claustrophobic in here every week,” I said removing a stack of papers from the chair so I could sit down.
“No time to file. I’m always out of the office or giving tours. What’s up? Sam changes his mind about Friday night.”
“No, we’re still on. I’m seeing him Saturday night.”
“Good. Because I would have been mad if you cancelled on me. So what do you need?”
“A diversion. You know Amy Foster?”
“Who doesn’t? What about her?”
“This sounds strange, but I need you to ask her to sign her name to some admission papers. I know she signed everything already, but say you need updated forms or something.”
“Why?”
“Every time she visits, she brings OJ for her dad and forces him to drink it and he gets sick. I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence or not but I want to find out. I need to swap out the orange juice bottle after she gives it to him.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“You don’t have to understand. I’ll let you know when she comes in. I’ll go to Mr. Schroeder’s room on some pretense, and when she gives him the orange juice, I’ll pick up Mr. Harper’s phone and ring your extension. You come in and tell her you need her to sign the forms. When she leaves, I can do the swap. You follow?”
“What if I’m not in my office?”
“You would think of that. Um, I’ll have Shantel page you instead. How does that sound?”
“Crazy. She didn’t want to sign the forms the first time around.”
“I don’t know, tell her…” I snapped my fingers. “Got it! Tell her we can’t return any unused money…”
“Yeah?”
“Won’t work. She’s not paying his bills now.” I concentrated until I thought my eyes would pop from the pressure.
“I know!” Donna said. “A form declining haircuts. If she’s cheap, she’ll want to sign it so she doesn’t get charged.”
“Pure genius, Donna. So are you in?”
“Why not? Might add some excitement to my day.”
“Thanks, Donna. I think she usually comes around two.” I gave her a thumbs up and returned to my office.
Sam’s roses were almost open, so my office smelled sweet. I selected Mr. Schroeder’s file and placed it on my desk, adding the newest correspondence to his bulging folder. I returned to my computer and entered some ancillaries until my phone rang.
On the second rang, I picked up. “Summer Kramer.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” crooned Sam.
“Don’t ‘hi sweetheart’ me,” I said peevishly. “I saw the buttons on Brandi’s dress. Thought she didn’t mean anything to you.”
“She doesn’t,” was his measured reply. “But, if I date a girl, I like to send her off with a smile on her face. Besides, all you have to do is accept my proposal and end this nonsense,” he replied arrogantly.
“Hey, it’s not like Lloyd lives with you and parades around with my hickies on his neck.”
“At least you know what I’m doing with her, I’m left with my imagination,” he answered cunningly.
I’d have to spend some time analyzing that response. Was knowing better than not knowing? Hmmm.
“Sunny?”
“I’ll reserve my opinion until I consider the matter further.”
“So not only are you beautiful, you are wise.”
“Sweet talk with no substance,” I opined.
“How about…I love the perfume of your scent, the music of your voice, the taste of your warm lips and the soft caress of your fingertips across my—?”
“Is this phone sex?” I interrupted.
“Why, is it getting you horny?”
“Maybe.”
He chuckled. “I better stop before you start moaning and embarrass yourself.”
“Chicken,” I taunted.
“Didn’t your dad teach you not to play with fire?”
“I may not have been listening.”
“Well, listen now.” He paused. “Good, you’re listening. I’m going to pick you up for work Friday. My friend said he could work on your car and have it done by Saturday afternoon. I’ll pick you up for our date and you can drive your car home Sunday.”
“Drive it home when?”
“You heard me, sweetheart.”
“We’ll see. Thanks, Sam. I’ll ask Donna or Autumn for a ride home.”
“Okay. Stay out of trouble. Love you.”
“I love you too,” I said surprising myself.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.”
“Guess not.”
“See you six in the a.m. on Friday.”
“Why so early?”
“We can get a bite to eat and don’t forget, I work too.”
“Okay. See you then. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I hung up the phone and stared at the wall. For the first time since I started dating Sam, I finally said “I” love you, not just the flirty love you. It just slipped out as though it had been waiting on my tongue for just the right moment, and somehow he was expecting it.
Game time. Shantel called to say Amy Foster just passed her desk. I called Donna. “It’s on,” I said simply and hung up.
I left my office and went straight to the kitchen where I retrieved the brown bag with the orange juice bottle, before being noticed by the staff. Increasing the speed of my gait, I entered the Medicare wing and walked into Mr. Schroeder’s room. Amy stood near his bed, her husband, and kid occupying the only chairs in the room. I forgot about them being with her.
“Sunny!” Mr. Harper said grinning.
“Hi, Mr. Harper,” I said, trying to avoid Amy Foster’s stare. “Just thought I’d stop in and chat. I’m seeing Lloyd tonight.”
“Smart boy,” he smiled. “Where’s he taking you? Somewhere nice I hope.”
“A Mexican restaurant that he likes. Do you know the one?” I chanced a glance at Amy and saw her unscrew the cap on an orange juice bottle.
“No. Can’t handle that spicy food anymore.”
“I suppose not. Do you mind if I use your phone for a second?”
“Go ahead, the calls are free,” he said.
I picked up the phone and dialed zero. When Shantel came on, I whispered for her to page Donna overhead and I hung up.
“Donna Dombrowski, line one. Donna Dombrowski, line one.”
Everyone in the room ignored the page excluding me. Five seconds later, Donna popped in. She nervously glanced at me, and then the bag in my hand.
“Mrs. Foster, sorry to bother you, but I need you to sign a form,” Donna said wringing her hands.
“What kind of form? I signed a huge stack when I admitted him. Didn’t I, Karl?”
Karl nodded and returned to playing with a loose piece of material on his worn sneaker.
“This is a new form. It’s to decline or accept services from our hair stylist. She comes in every Tuesday and Thursday and provides haircuts, shaves, and manicures.”
“Look at my dad. He’s losing his hair. Why would I pay for a haircut?”
“Then you need to sign the form to decline the service,” insisted Donna.
“Dear Lord. You people have enough damn forms around here. Well, don’t just stand there, bring it in.”
Donna looked to me for help. I reached into my trick bag and came up empty. Trick. Treat. I had it.
“If you go with Miss Dombrowki, there are some pastries and donuts in her office.” Leftovers I remembered seeing from earlier in the day.
The kid pulled on his mother’s arm. “I wanna donut, I wanna donut.”
“Get up, Karl. We’ll be right back, Dad. Drink your juice.”
Karl followed his wife and kid out of the room with Donna in the lead. I walked over to Mr. Schroeder.
“Drink this instead, Mr. Schroeder,” I said pulling the orange juice bottle from the brown paper bag and unscrewed the top. “I filled it with cold water. I know the orange juice upsets your stomach.” I carefully screwed the cap back on the orange juice his daughter brought with her and placed it in the brown paper bag without touching more than the cap.
“What if she finds out? I don’t want her to be mad at me.”
“She won’t know, Rodney,” Mr. Harper said. “Just drink it before she comes back.” To me he said, “Good thinking.”
Mr. Schroeder started drinking the water. I left before she returned so I could stash the bag in my drawer before she came to my office.
Shantel ushered the Fosters into my office and the level of oxygen decreased by fifty percent. Her lavender perfume combined with his musk aftershave into a nauseating aroma that filled my nostrils and made me wish I had a window to open. The little brat kept grabbing at my roses, so I moved them to the other side of my desk, out of his reach.
She sat and Karl stood. The brat ran circles around his father.
“So where’s the proof you mentioned on the phone.”
“Here are the explanation of benefit forms I received from his insurance company showing that payment was denied. I also made a copy from your father’s Medicare handbook, explaining about the coinsurance. Here is the daily rate he is being charged.”
She shuffled through the paperwork with little expression on her face.
“Also, without his insurance, once his Medicare ends he’ll have to pay the full cost of any prescriptions he receives. He’s frequently in the hospital, Mrs. Foster. I’m assuming his insurance covered the majority of the costs there as well.”
“Sunny, if you haven’t noticed, my father isn’t well. I don’t expect him to live much longer. He could be gone any day now.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Even if that were the case, he’ll still be losing money. His debt isn’t forgiven if he dies. You’re responsible for his bills being paid, since you are controlling his money.”
“I’m not responsible for anything.”
“You signed the admission paperwork, therefore you are responsible. I would strongly suggest renewing his insurance.”
“I’ve heard enough, Karl. Let’s go.” She stood up. “If you try to send me to collections, I’ll sue for the crappy care. I’m sure I’ll win when my dad dies from the incompetence of the staff here. His frequent hospital trips are my proof you people don’t know what you’re doing.”
They left in a huff, but not before the little brat tore off the open buds on three of my roses and spread the petals on the floor.
I dialed Donna.
“Hey, what happened?” I asked before she answered.
“They ate all the stale donuts! What do you want me to do with the phony form?”
“Shred it. It never happened.”
“Gotcha!”
“Thanks, Donna. I owe you a drink Friday night. Oh, by the way, can you give me a lift home on Friday? Sam’s taking my car in to have the scrape fixed. If you want, you can get ready at my apartment, that way you don’t have to go home after dropping me off.”
“Sure. I’ll just bring my junk to work with me. Can I hang it up in your office? I don’t have the room or a hook.”
“No problem. I have to watch the phones until I leave, so I’ll talk to you later.”
I turned off my computer and straightened my desk. Overall, a rather unproductive day, but I had the orange juice bottle and I hoped it helped solve the mystery of Mr. Schroeder’s illness.
Chapter 37
Lloyd pulled to the curb, two blocks down from Loco Gato Mexican Restaurant. Years of poverty and neglect turned the neighborhood into near slum conditions. Windows were boarded up and wood siding held the scars of previous fires caused by faulty wiring or careless cigarettes. My expression mimicked my lack of enthusiasm for exiting his car.
“Looks worse than it is,” offered Lloyd, holding the passenger door open.
“Un huh. Are cockroaches a side dish?” I said uneasily. I detested all types of bugs but cockroaches make my skin crawl.
He laughed. “Honestly, it’s a clean and respectable establishment. And I promise you won’t get knifed on the way in.”
“What about on the way out?” I asked wearily.
He laughed again. “I’ll steal a knife from the restaurant for protection.”
This earned him a grin and I got out of his car, clenching my handbag tightly.
