Lonnie lifted a stray piece of greasy hair and slapped it back in place. He brushed past Frank and Cheski as if he were cutting in line at the supermarket. He placed his brochures on the desk and addressed Marjorie. “Excuse me, but I’m from Health Associates and I’m supposed to be giving a presentation on a new plan for Sound View Laboratories.” Lonnie was out of breath. “This man”—he turned to point to my father—“is making it very difficult for me.”
I watched Dr. William Prentice, the founder of the Sound View labs, turn the corner and eye Marjorie.
“Thank God,” he bellowed. “Marjorie, tell this man who I am.”
My father’s appearance unsettled me. Although dressed professionally, his shirt was untucked and his tie askew. Apparently, Norma hadn’t gone down as easily as he expected.
Marjorie froze. She’d had enough interactions with my father to realize he wasn’t himself. She didn’t know he’d recently murdered his housekeeper, but she could see he’d come unhinged. Her freshly applied peach lipstick looked even more out of place as her mouth slackened. She started to back away, her balance compromised by her age. Marjorie may have been tedious, but she was no dummy and as she had said earlier, my father no longer belonged at the labs. As she continued her retreat, her swivel chair rolled backward and caused her to stumble. Her stunned reaction angered my father, who expected service with a smile. He shook his head violently. It was as if a sliver of truth had pierced his jumbled brain and upset his equilibrium.
“Marjorie,” my father barked, “I’m asking you a simple question. Answer or I’m firing you.” Frank stepped in, but not before Marjorie replied.
She nodded at Lonnie and said, “I’d like you to meet Dr. William Prentice.” After a painful hesitation, Marjorie mumbled a fatal last remark. “The former CEO of Sound View Laboratories.”
My father stared blankly at Marjorie. He blinked as if a foreign object had obscured his vision. His face was red, and I wondered about his blood pressure. He might have a stroke before this was all over. Maybe that would be a blessing.
“Former?” he said slowly. He turned to Lonnie. There was no recognition, but I was concerned when he turned toward Frank and me. His eyes glazed over and I couldn’t tell if he was winding up or down. I’d never seen him act like this.
Frank’s jaw moved slowly. It was a crowded room. He needed to arrest my father and Lonnie for two separate crimes. He also suspected Gayle was in the building and that Kelly and Corey were close by. At this point, anyone could see my father was a ticking time bomb and a few false moves could cause a melee.
Lonnie noticed the change in energy and for the first time, he realized that Cheski was wearing a uniform. He didn’t seem pleased about an encounter with the cops. I might have felt the same had I been instrumental in executing an insurance scam. Despite trying to help the sick, Lonnie obviously knew he’d done something wrong, something illegal. He also knew his boss, Marcia Melia, was close to figuring it out and in his defense, I guess he had tried to warn Bob that the jig was up. How hard he tried to warn Bob was another matter. Had he pushed Bob to his death? Gayle knew what happened and so did Lonnie. By the look on Lonnie’s face, there was likely more than one reason for him to avoid the police.
“Lonnie Drummond?” Frank asked.
The soft flesh around Lonnie’s midsection started to shake and his neatly draped combover shifted forward on his shiny forehead.
“Yes?” he stammered. He grabbed for his brochures and held them protectively across his chest.
Frank flashed his badge, but before he could notify Lonnie of his rights, Lonnie dropped his rubber-banded pile of marketing materials on the floor. The hefty stack of slick, heavy-weight paper slapped the ground, and I reached to cover my ears. The sound snapped my father to attention.
Cheski walked to my father with his hand out. My father, the consummate CEO, thought Cheski was trying to shake his hand. He extended his arm to return the gesture. Cheski grabbed my father and shoved him against the receptionist desk.
Lonnie seized the opportunity. He turned and started to inch toward the front doors.
My father, in his delusional and restricted state, directed Lonnie to halt. “You’ll stop right there. I won’t have this behavior at my labs.” Then he wrestled with Cheski. “Let me go,” he said. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
It was the understatement of the year. “Nothing wrong?” I said. “You haven’t done anything right.”
Frank held his hand up to quiet me down and then pointed to Lonnie. “Mr. Drummond, I’ll need you to stay there.”
Frank couldn’t afford an escalation. His goal was to get all parties into custody without incident. Frank moved a chair from the seating area over to my father. “Take a seat, Dr. Prentice,” he said.
Cheski reluctantly released his grip, but my father, in an unanticipated move, pushed Cheski. His overblown ego had finally consumed him. Cheski, taking Frank’s peace-keeping lead, offered my father his seat again. I couldn’t believe Cheski’s self-control. It was all I could do to keep my fists by my side.
While Frank and Cheski tried to talk my father into submission, Lonnie took advantage of the distraction and continued toward the doors. Frank and Cheski, without coordinating, both went for Lonnie. For a short, fat man, he moved swiftly.
“I said stop,” my father yelled again after Lonnie. My father stood from his chair and walked into the middle of the reception area. Heads popped in and out of offices.
“All of you, back to work,” he barked.
Frank and Cheski turned to my father. Lonnie took off like a slow-moving bullet. He was halfway to the doors when my father reached into his suit jacket. This time, he drew a gun and pointed it at Lonnie.
Frank and Cheski dropped to the ground.
It only took a second for my father to pull the trigger and release a bullet into Lonnie Drummond’s heart.
Marjorie screeched and with the gun still smoking, my fathered turned his aim toward Marjorie.
“Marjorie,” he demanded, “tell these people my correct title.”
“Dad,” I squeaked, “please put the gun down.” My father redirected his aim at me, his eyes fluttered.
“Christ,” I mumbled as I watched Lonnie take his last gasp.
“Where’s the girl?” he yelled at me. “That little bitch is the reason I’m not getting the respect I deserve. I should have never tried to re-create another defective version of you.”
I was about to speak when Frank answered for me. He stood up, showed his badge, and said firmly, “Dr. Prentice, put the gun down. The girl is not here.”
The thought screamed in my head: But she might be!
“The police?” my father roared as he shifted his gun toward Frank. “Incompetent fools. You’ll never find her. She’s a grifter, a snake,” he spat as he looked back my way.
In the split second it took my father to readjust his gaze, a hulking figure appeared from one of the offices. Kelly Goff, with his line-backer build, dove forward, grabbed my father at the waist and tackled him to the ground. Sparks exploded from the ceiling as my father’s gun fired into the recessed lighting overhead. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marjorie give into gravity as she flipped backward over her chair. Frank and Cheski scrambled forward toward the pile of bodies.
I sunk to the ground and crawled around the receptionist’s desk toward Marjorie. Flecks of glass covered her body like red sprinkles on an ice cream sundae. A doctor in a white coat stuck his head out of an office door, and I pointed to Marjorie, a stream of blood draining from her neck. The doctor tiptoed toward us, a black bag in his hand. He felt for Marjorie’s pulse and gave me the thumbs up. I poked my head over Marjorie’s desk. My father’s hands were in cuffs, Lonnie Drummond lay lifeless in a dark pool of blood, and Kelly preened. Frank was walking to the receptionist desk. He handed me his phone.
“
She’s here,” a woman’s voice said.
“Excuse me?” I croaked.
“This is Vicky, the midwife. She wanted me to tell you she’s here.”
I could barely believe what I’d heard. In the midst of it all, I’d forgotten about Katrina, again.
“A girl.” I wept. “Tell Katrina I’m so happy for her.”
“No,” the midwife corrected. “Katrina had a boy. She wants you to know that Gayle is here, at the house.”
fifty-three
Frank and I stood on the Harbor House porch. I was scared and tired, and I couldn’t get myself through the front door of my own house. I considered relocating permanently to the porch, maybe screen it in, add a daybed. It might work, but Frank, sensing my hesitation, placed a firm hand on my back, opened the door, and forced me across the threshold.
My eyes danced wildly around the room. The first person I saw was Vicky, Katrina’s midwife, who welcomed me with a bear hug. I barely knew the woman, but her hearty embrace was much appreciated, although undeserved considering I had ditched Katrina and her on my way out earlier in the day. I introduced the midwife to Frank, and the three of us headed into the library.
Katrina, positively glowing, cradled a swaddled bundle close to her chest. A tiny hand poked through the striped blanket, and I sighed openly. Jonathan, her boyfriend and our absent housemate, sat proudly next to his new family on the couch. In a threadbare, winged-back chair sat a lovely young girl with a terrible dye job.
“How?” It was all I could think of to say to Gayle.
“Shit happens.” She shrugged.
“But, how did you end up here?” Frank said. “We thought you were at the labs.”
“I was, but once I realized I could get Dr. Prentice, Lonnie, and the police to the labs, I knew it wouldn’t be safe for me to stay,” Gayle said. “I kind of wanted to stay. See how it turned out.” Her voice, full of teenage optimism, revealed her age. The lilt and rhythm matched that of a young girl, although physically, she could—and had—passed as a woman in her early twenties.
“So shit doesn’t just happen,” I corrected. “You actually arranged for all these people to be at the labs.”
“It seemed—” She paused. “Efficient? You know, like, why waste time going after all these people separately?”
A teenager concerned with waste and efficiency? Screw the blood test. This kid is mine.
“Lonnie Drummond is dead,” Frank said. “He was killed at the labs.”
Gayle’s face fell and she seemed to grow years younger. “He pushed Bob,” she said quietly. “I saw it.”
“We know,” Frank said. “None of this is your fault, but it would have been nice to know what you had planned as opposed to walking in unaware.”
Gayle nodded and I could see she was just a girl who had gotten in over her head.
Frank motioned to the kitchen. Gayle turned to Katrina and Jonathan and said, “Thanks for letting me sit with you. Your baby is beautiful.” She rose from her chair and I was immediately taken with her height; she was easily five inches taller than me.
I watched, in awe, as she glided past me toward the kitchen. “She’s so tall,” I whispered to Frank.
“Your dad and your aunt will be here in a few minutes,” Frank advised Gayle as we sat down at the kitchen table. “Since you’re underage, I won’t ask you any questions until they arrive.”
Gayle nodded. We sat in silence, and I was thankful for the lack of distraction because it gave me time to stare. And stare I did. I couldn’t take my eyes off this young woman, with her slender fingers and bright blue eyes. Her skinny jeans narrowed gracefully along the curve of her calf, leading my eyes down to her feet.
“Eight and a half,” she said, referring to her shoe size. “You’re shorter than I expected.”
My god, I thought. She knew exactly who I was. “So, it was you I saw at Bob’s house?” I asked.
She lowered her head. “I didn’t break in. The door was open, and Bob’s a friend,” she said as she considered her words. “I needed something from his house.”
“A home dialysis machine?” Frank asked.
“Maybe,” she said. “But you’re not supposed to be asking me questions.”
Frank laughed and leaned into Gayle. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I believe we can convince Health Associates that Lonnie Drummond acted alone. If that’s the case, then there is no case, since both Bob and Lonnie are dead. That is, of course, if Maid Marian retires her avatar.”
A mask of worry clouded Gayle’s face. “But people are dying. Bob was upset about it.”
“And Lonnie?” Frank asked.
“Lonnie was worried he’d lose his job. He pushed Bob, but I think it was out of frustration. I don’t think he meant to—” She started to cry.
“I promise we’ll find a way to help,” I said, finally reaching out for Gayle.
She took my hand easily and said, “Bob liked you.” A warm feeling flooded my body, and I had an urge to sketch every emotion bottled up inside me. We released our hands as Carolyn and Kelly entered the kitchen. Gayle ran to her father, and he drew her into his arms. It was a tight embrace, but I knew, eventually, there’d be room for me.
fifty-four
The T, on the bottom of one doll foot and chair in Bob’s diorama, stood for Terri. Frank and I watched as the real Terri, a middle-school girl pumped her legs hard, her swing soaring higher with each kick. Terri’s mother, a friendly woman with a gaggle of kids, was single and had been logging long hours as a home health aide when her daughter first got sick.
“I couldn’t afford insurance,” she said. “I was able to cover the medical bills for a few months, but eventually the money ran out. I tried the government website, but it kicked me out, and I got crazy frustrated. Terri had weeks, not months.”
“Did Bob Rooney approach you?”
“Barely,” she said. “He handed me a small slip of paper one day on my way out of the dialysis center.” She laughed heartily. “I thought it was his phone number. Like I’d call a guy thirty years older than me.”
I liked how she focused on Bob’s age and not his weight. “What did the paper say?” I asked.
“I thought it was information about an online support group. Too touchy feely for me, but I was pretty low at the time. I logged on using the instructions in the note, chatted with some computer generated person and the next thing I knew, an insurance card arrived in my mailbox. Every few months, a new one arrived. I thought, what the hell? Who cares if I get caught? My daughter was dying.”
Frank nodded. “And now?”
“Once Terri’s situation improved, I was able to go back to work. I recently got a job at a nursing home with coverage.”
Not every story ended like Terri’s. In all, Bob, Gayle, and Lonnie had helped over three hundred patients extend their lives. A third were still alive by the time the investigation came to a close. Many were in the United States illegally, some were turned down by their insurance companies, and others simply didn’t have insurance or couldn’t afford it. Frank, for the first time in his career, lied his pants off to keep Gayle’s role under wraps. In addition to the short conversation in the kitchen, he interviewed Gayle only once, about a week later.
“There were too many sick people,” Gayle explained. “At first Bob thought we could help like maybe fifty people, but the requests kept coming. In the beginning, Lonnie recycled cards from HA insurance holders who had passed away.” Gayle scrunched her nose up, and I could tell she was uncomfortable talking about dead people.
Frank helped her out. “I’m guessing he started to run out of dead people.”
“Pretty healthy bunch, those HA card holders,” she replied. “The old hard drives turned out to be a great source. That was my idea. It came to me after my Dad died and we tossed his computer.” She smiled like a child earning
a gold star. “But then, we started to run out of computers at the recycling center too. That’s when Bob suggested the auctions.”
“Were you aware of the warehouse at HG storage?” Frank asked.
Gayle nodded. “The problem was the equipment was old, maybe too old, and we would have had to sort through it and then determine if the owner had passed away. It was too much work, and I’m not that good with computers.” Gayle took a breath and continued, “Then there was the jerk at the storage place. He wanted a lot of cash for the warehouse computers. Bob kept arguing that he could do the guy a favor. You know? Like cart it away for free? Then the guy got in trouble because the stuff was toxic. I think he thought Bob had ratted him out to the EPA.”
Frank didn’t take a single note. He didn’t want anything on paper, and he refused to bring Gayle into the station, instead opting for the makeshift conference room at Harbor House. Cheski and Lamendola had been a hundred percent on board and resumed their stationhouse responsibilities as if nothing had happened. For all the public knew, Lonnie Drummond had been running an insurance scam. He had attempted to source hard drives from the recycling center, but Bob Rooney, the friendly neighborhood garbage guy, got wind of the scam and reported Lonnie to the police. Luckily, Bob and Frank’s phone conversation provided the necessary evidence to establish contact between Bob and Frank only days before his murder.
“Did Bob notify anyone about the toxic e-waste?” he asked.
“No way. He didn’t want any trouble from the storage dude.”
“And Lonnie?”
“Lonnie fielded calls from providers.”
“So he lied to doctors about who used the cards?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Gayle said. “Lonnie, my dad, and Bob met at the dialysis center where they were all receiving treatment. That’s where they cooked up the plan to reuse policies that hadn’t expired. I knew Bob because my dad and I used to see him at the recycling center and the dialysis place. I never actually met Lonnie. I knew he worked for an insurance company, but Bob wasn’t crazy about him and he didn’t want me too involved. The first time I saw Lonnie was at the recycling center when I went to meet Bob. I wasn’t even sure it was Lonnie at first.”
Drawing Blood Page 27
