Complicated Care

by Denise M. Hartman

  Diane scanned them expertly with a grunt. “Did you get names?”

  Al and Blanche exchanged a look and shook their heads.

  “I told you one day wouldn’t be enough. This is just tourist stuff. I want faces of...” suddenly she became engrossed and started pushing buttons on the phone in an expert manner.

  “What are you doing?” Blanche’s radar was up. “Who is it exactly that you’re looking for? You’re not interested in Edna’s welfare at all, are you?

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “What were you doing with that picture?” Blanche didn’t have a phone but she knew you could do everything but wash dishes on them.

  One of those photos had caught Diane’s eye. How frustrating that Blanche hadn’t looked at the pictures while they were on the boat even if she had she still might not know what she was looking at with all the Dragon’s secrecy.

  “Nothing. So look, it’s not going to hurt you to go out there some more. You won’t suffer on my account. What about the roommate?”

  “Edna’s roommate? She’s of Cuban desent.”

  “You saw her? Did you get a picture?”

  “Why?”

  “You didn’t.” Diane made a frustrated sound. “What about the billing? That place is a mint every day.”

  “Can’t you log on to the bill online or something?” Blanche said trying to side step the issue.

  “It’s in some crazy code and they refer me to another government website. It’s very convoluted. I don’t have time to unravel all that. Wouldn’t they explain it to you as a potential resident for example?”

  “I tried.” Blanche shrugged, “Give me the log-in information and I’ll see.”

  She consulted another phone she pulled from her Luis Vuitton handbag and wrote on a scrap of paper in her purse. She handed it to Blanche.

  Score, a log in. That might simplify things.

  Al fidgeted with his canes. They’d been on their feet a lot for one day as retirees.

  Diane the Dragon pulled out the phone that Al had carried all day and started scanning again.

  The younger generation really didn’t realize how dull it was to watch them fiddle with their technology, Blanche thought. She stifled a yawn and looked at her watch.

  Diane’s other phone started singing a rap song. She strode away from them to answer. She lowered her voice but Blanche listened hard.

  “Did you get it? Good, it is HER.”

  Blanche wondered which her. You couldn’t sneeze without hitting a movie star out there.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A large muscled man in a gray private security uniform entered Bruce’s office on the upper level of Royale Cove Care Center. A man in a dark purple suit and a curly mane of hair followed him.

  Bruce spoke quietly into his mobile. “I gotta go.”

  Most politicians kept a low profile at Royale Cove. It was as if they thought Bruce wouldn’t notice or remember they’d been there. It was the money that made him blind. This guy coming from Cuba had this handler in the purple suit and his own beefy security guy. Bruce hadn’t met the facelift candidate, but the young men in his entourage seemed to enjoy a power trip.

  “We need to talk about security and and the breech today.”

  Bruce made a concerted effort to laugh. “You are overreacting. It was just some of the residents messing around.” The muscly security man translated into Spanish for the young lion in his expensive tasteless suit.

  Bruce stroked his bald head feeling more pale than normal with the golden muscle bound Latino across from him and the slim darker skinned man. He addressed the smaller man who was more than a hired gun. He preferred not to know their names. In his head, he would call them Muscles, and Purple Passion.

  “I assure you the unit is secure and there’s been no breech. They didn’t even try the door.” He waited while Muscles translated.

  The young bucks of the entourage exchanged words in Spanish before the conversation resumed.

  “We don’t trust that old Cuban guy. There’s something about him... Security seems weak. We are considering canceling,” Muscles translated.

  Bruce would lose serious money personally. It could also jeopardize the center’s clandestine reputation. He couldn’t put up an internet site for damage control in private circles where quiet face remodels and identity changes were de rigueur.

  “The unit is secure. No one goes in or out without codes or keys. It’s fine.”

  A quick translation was followed by a long silence. The slim man in the purple suit looked at the window his dark eyes catching the light. Bruce heard the fan on his computer kick up.

  “Look, last month we had a very high security Unit 2 resident from Iraq. Iraq! It’s not been in the news. Have you heard or seen anything? No. And the man is enjoying his new identity on an island somewhere tending to the last of the creams and follow up visits by now.”

  Bruce felt uncomfortable carrying the conversation and not feeling sure how much they understood. His palms grew damp.

  He was better at schmoozey back and forth sales banter than dealing with tight lipped security personnel. Not everyone brought their own teams, but some of the foreign dignitaries wanted their own anonymous layer of extra security. He didn’t care as long as they brought money. Ridiculous. Did they forget it was an island?

  “Look, the surgery can take place as scheduled. Assure Señor that his new life is just a few days away, and we will do all we can to make his stay pleasant and completely anonymous.”

  Muscles translated for the handler in the purple suit. The gray shirt bulged out around well defined shoulders as the Muscles shrugged. The black lion mane shook before the Purple Passion spoke again looking at the security hired hand.

  “The threats on Señor’s life are real, and we can’t take any risks. The doctor knows the case only by number but not the name?”

  “That’s right. We have, an, uh, arrangement with several specialists. Discretion and assured isolation is the reason we have the reputation we do. You are in good hands.” Bruce’s feet felt familiar ground.

  The slick Purple fellow spoke English for the first time startling Bruce. His beady dark eyes bored into Bruce. “If this is just, a sales thing you says, and a leak comes to Señor, it’s you I will have him kill first.” He gestured to the chest of the large security man.

  Bruce gave a dry smile. “We are professionals. No need to worry.”

  When the hulk left the office followed by the purple suit, Bruce let out a breath he didn’t know he’d held. He went over Señor’s file one more time. Everything seemed in order. He called and confirmed with the doctor and the helicopter service. All was well in his kingdom.

  He used the internal walkie talkie system to summon Carlos.

  Carlos entered adjusting his ponytail and giving Bruce a cold smile. “What can I do for you, Boss?”

  Somehow Carlos always made “boss” sound like an insult, but Bruce needed him. “Keep an eye out. Unit 2 needs to be quiet. We need to keep those security guys happy.”

  “So some sedation downstairs?”

  Bruce grunted and nodded. “The coherent ones.” Carlos turned.

  “Be careful.” Bruce added.

  Carlos snorted, “I know what I’m doing. ¿Sabes?”

  Bruce wanted to smear the grin off the other man’s cocky face with his fist, but Bruce was not at heart a violent man. Carlos just rubbed him wrong.

  Carlos saluted and went out. Bruce sighed.

  But all was well in his Royale Cove world. It wasn’t normally this tense with the Unit 2 guests. Their need for secrecy produced an amazing benefit for Bruce as well as quite a few employees and doctors. They had to be paid officially on the books for a certain amount of their service, but no one was willing to jeopardize the incredible windfall that being blind could bring off the record.

  Soon there would be one less political fugitive. Bruce would get his money; Royale Cove would get richer, the doctor would be happy; an
d their reputation in the ballrooms of dictatorships and front rooms of celebrity palaces would be secure.

  It was a perfect set up even if it brought stress and irritation at times. People of this ilk certainly brought high maintenance a new meaning. Bruce smiled to himself. He’d think about it all the way to the bank.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Blanche wanted to kneel down and kiss her freshly vacuumed cream carpet when she got to her condo. Home Sweet Condo! It smelled of room freshener and not a trace of any industrial chemicals. Maybe her cigarettes but she was immune to that. She wouldn’t trade her fourth floor micro-palace for all the Tuscan Mansion care centers in Florida or the world for that matter.

  She got her coffee out of the fridge and added a few ice cubes to the black brew. What a strange day. She figured tackling the bill was the most straight forward thing. If the drugs were listed somewhere maybe that would explain the morning grogginess for Edna. And Tonio? She shook her head but nestled into her plastic dining room table with her computer. She started researching Medicare billing for nursing facilities.

  Codes started dancing before her eyes: all sorts of codes, consolidated, prospective payment, home health groups, weighted tables, catalogues and software. Clearly you had to be trained to make sense of all this. This was not an example of one-old-lady-with-a-claim type thing. Filing for a facility took it to the big leagues.

  She wondered if anyone actually understood any of it or was it more like trained monkeys who put numbers in slots in computer forms and hit send not knowing the actual reasons behind the system? She wasn’t going to be able to print out a step by step guide and carry it with her to check Royale Cove Care Center to straighten things out.

  She logged into the RCCC billing site that Diane the Dragon had given her and tried to coordinate the codes with what she found online. But it didn’t say if it was a particular number from the weighted tables or prospective payment list. She tried several combinations adding them up on a pad of paper. The numbers would not come up to what the bill totaled. Often the Medicare codes didn’t correspond with a service amount as far as she could see. Good grief. Blanche cursed the government for being so complicated. This got her nowhere.

  She tried another tack. She searched doctors who work at Royale Cove Care Center, but got nothing, nada. This was odd. Surely they had doctors on staff or associated practices. The phone interrupted her and she grumbled as she crossed the room to answer it.

  “Hello, is this THE Blanche BInkley?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “Sorry, I’m John Mateo from the Sun Sentinel newspaper. I had communications with a Blanche Binkley previously, it’s an unusual name, and I see someone of that name went out to Royale Cove Island today. ”

  “Wait a second. How on earth do you know that?”

  “I’ve been checking passenger manifests daily.”

  Daily?! And then stalking people. Blanche didn’t say anything. Let John explain himself.

  “I just want to talk about what you did and what you saw.”

  Blanche realized it really was the same reporter she’d talked to about some of her other crime interventions.

  “Wait, you expect me to believe the guy with the crime beat, is suddenly interested in...what? Houses on the island? Have you been demoted?”

  “I know you are an astute person, Ms. Binkley. Just a few questions. How did you come to find yourself on the island today?”

  “I rode the boat.”

  He laughed without enthusiasm. “I know that, but you have to be invited. How’d you get on the list?”

  Blanche smiled to herself. Oooh, she was on THE list. That did sound exclusive. Even though John wasn’t doling out the info yet maybe this could be useful.

  “A friend of mine lives out there, so I went visiting. Lots of people were on the boat.” She enjoyed the banter and wanted to know what lay beneath his inquiries.

  “Most of them are employees and they sign a no disclosure agreement. They all usually get fired when something juicy turns up in the news.”

  “No disclosure for the gardener and the maids?” Curious, she thought.

  “Exactly. So your friend doesn’t have a private boat available to pick you up?” His tone was joking but skeptical.

  “He wanted to get the boat ready for our little tryst at sea this afternoon.” Blanche cracked herself up. It was none of his business anyway.

  “Who is your friend?”

  “That’s private information. Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “How about your friend’s neighbors? That won’t hurt anything. Do you know who they are?”

  “I’m sure you can check public records for land deeds if you just want to know who has a house out there. So John, what is it you’re really after?“

  Everyone seemed to be looking for someone out on the island and yet not admitting it. What was up?

  “Did you see anyone famous or familiar looking? You can give me an anonymous tip.”

  “I was on the boat having a tryst, remember?”

  “According to public records that you so aptly brought up, you are 76 years old.”

  Nosy bunch these reporters, Blanche thought. “You think a tryst is out of the question at 76? Just wait.”

  He laughed again. “Ms. Binkley, perhaps we could make a deal? I didn’t do you wrong on the trafficking story, did I?”

  “What kind of deal?” This was progress and Blanche did want to know. Blanche thought of her waning bank account and the Dragon’s promises of money. She wondered what would motivate people to pay for information from the island.

  “Paper policy dictates that I can’t just send you cash, but we do have lots of...perks we can share. How about...” she heard him scrounging amongst some papers. “Tickets to a show? The symphony?”

  Blanche thought quickly. “You have access to government databases and the newspaper morgue, the aforementioned public records, I would imagine?”

  It was his turn to hesitate. “Uh, well. Yes, but what do you mean?”

  “I sometimes need information. Perhaps we could make a deal for information.”

  Blanche let the pause linger.

  “I’m not sure the paper’s policy would allow...”

  “I can keep my sources confidential like reporters do.”

  “So you are investigating something? What is it this time?”

  How much to reveal? It seemed like an open and shut look into Edna’s bill, except for the drugs. Who was the Dragon looking for? Blanche didn’t have any real information on that. She couldn’t afford to sound lame and lose the reporter’s possible assistance. She could see that odd goings on with in care residents and the Dragon’s secret interest meant something.

  She said, “I’m not sure yet.” That was true enough.

  She tapped a nail against her front tooth waiting for John to think it over. The pause grew long again, “Seems you must have other sources with access to Royale Cove. I understand.” Blanche tried to make it sound final.

  “Wait. Are you going back?”

  She didn’t want to think about it, but she knew the answer. “Yes, I am.”

  “What information do you want?”

  Ahh. This was a step in the right direction. “I need some Medicare codes interpreted from government databases, online public resources are not clear. I need to know names of doctors working with the center and if any legal claims and suits have been filed against Royale Cove Care Center in the last few years. I’m not entirely sure what else I will need yet.”

  “The care center? That’s a lot of information. I’m going to need a good return of information. What is it you think is wrong out there?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m helping someone find out though.” Blanche realized she had committed herself to this puzzle despite her misgivings about care facilities. “What is it you’d want from me?”

  She could almost hear him salivating on the line. “I’d like you to take photos of the island and the people yo
u meet.”

  Him too? What was it with these people and photos? It could not be the financial side that they were after. Financial fraud didn’t show up in color on a camera click. She wondered who John Mateo and Diane the Dragon really wanted. They needed her to spy but never told her on whom. That sounded much more interesting than counting medication dose accuracy at an old folks home. She believed Diane stalked a woman. But John?

  “What people? What places?”

  “I’m looking for a man who is called El Tigre. That’s not his real name.”

  “I’d imagine not. What’s your interest?”

  “He’s a killer and I had a tip he might be retired to the island.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Blanche hung up the phone thinking about a killer on the island. That led her to think of the life and death letter she hadn’t mailed yet for Antonio Funosa in the side slot on her pocketbook. She got the letter out and held it to the light. Just a regular security envelope. No clues.

  She patted it against her hand and wondered if she dared to open it. That seemed too blatant even for her. She studied the scraggy chicken scratch writing on the outside. It was an address in Sunny Isles down near Miami.

  First Tonio has his life or death letter; then the Sun Sentinel reporter was looking for a killer. What was going on out on that paradise island? And she had given Antonio her address, oh dear. And who was the Dragon really after and why?

  Blanche worried for Edna’s security, but all this other drama piqued her curiosity too. Surely the killer wasn’t the guy dropping drugs on oldsters and working up to something big. A massacre in an old folks home?

  As unpleasant as she found it, she needed to get back out there to check Edna’s bill, but more importantly to see who was doping old folks and why. It’d be simpler if Diane just moved Edna somewhere else, but now that Blanche had met Tonio she hardly could just leave him there to get drugged at random.