Not that I was paying any attention to my clothing. The black feline held my complete attention. I would have closed my eyes, but I knew better than to take my eyes off the enemy.
It hissed.
I hissed right back.
It waved a paw at me in a rather threatening manner. Since Huntington was now watching me warily, I just sniffed and gave the cat my haughtiest glare.
Mistake. No one can out-haughty a cat, especially a sleek, short-haired killer.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Huntington demanded. "This time, I mean."
I turned my glare on him. "That cat doesn't like me. What is it doing here? Why in the world did you keep it?" I knew where the cat had come from. Huntington had probably kept the cat to irritate me. This perky feline had caused me a lot of grief, not to mention severe punctures and scratches when it tried to use me as an escape ladder.
Huntington grinned and didn't look that much different than a cat with a can of tuna. "He's mine now. No one seemed to want him, so I kept him."
"Great." Moving carefully and keeping a watchful eye on the enemy, I crossed the living room. I set Huntington's present and Marilyn's gift certificate down on the bar. The cat followed me. Warily, I moved away and perched on the edge of the couch.
"I changed his name," Huntington said. "I didn't want him to go around with a name attached to a criminal case."
"Why not?" Seemed to me that being associated with criminal activities fit the cat. He had a sneaky look about him, and he was dangerous to boot.
"I changed it to Shadow--Black Shadow, but I call him Shadow."
"Original," I muttered, not surprised that Huntington hadn't the imagination to name him something more creative and fitting like, "Claws," or "Killer." The right name would at least warn visitors of the cat's tendency to shred innocent humans. Even now, the cat stalked me, walking back and forth in front of the couch, twitching his tail.
"Soda?" Huntington offered from the kitchen. The magnificent chrome kitchen ran halfway along the living room with a bar separating the two. It was a perfect suite for entertaining. Huntington had recently upgraded the television on the wall away from the kitchen with a very large plasma display. A new speaker system was recessed into the walls.
Luckily the bookends were classy enough to fit in.
"No thanks. I came over to get some case details. You neglected to fill me in again." So that I wasn't the only one complaining, I added, "Radar also mentioned he could use some info."
Huntington shrugged and helped himself to the glass of orange juice that was on the kitchen table. "From what you told me the other night it sounds like you already have a good handle on some suspicious activity."
This type of discussion was part of a longstanding pattern. Huntington had a crazy notion that telling me what he suspected would ruin my ability to investigate with an open mind. I, on the other hand, wanted to know as much as possible to avoid putting my foot in something dark, dank, smelly or dangerous. I folded my arms and sat back. "I have all day."
Huntington looked disgusted. "I don't."
"I suppose I could do without the information. I survived for a long time unaware of what was going on the last time. The case took us a lot longer to solve, of course."
"There's no way you can know if more information would have helped solve the last case faster or not!"
I wagged my finger. "Au contraire. Note that we didn't make any progress until your auditor friend filled me in on what you already knew."
"You mean after you drugged me and invited him over?"
That didn't even deserve an answer, so I plowed on with my original intent. "The basics, Huntington. At least the basics." When he took another drink of orange juice without answering, I said, "After you got yourself shot, Mark said something about charges for services not rendered. Let's start there."
"I don't remember him saying that."
"You had been shot. You may have been concentrating on surviving rather than the conversation." Maybe because the look on my face implied he might be in danger of getting shot again, he doled out a few scant details.
"False charges to bills is pretty much the case in a nutshell," he said. "Of course, it's possible there is no case at all and that Crestwood just has a few too many billing errors. The errors seem to take the form of extra services which are added to the bill after a patient has already been discharged. That and perhaps we weren't digging quite deep enough, assuming that the three patient names you turned up prove to be visits that never happened at all."
"How did someone notice the charges in the first place?" Brenda certainly wouldn't have gone crawling through the files if Mark hadn't made her curious with his remark.
"The hospital board--"
"Geez," I interrupted. "Are you on every single board in town?" He had served on the last two company boards during the investigations.
"No. I'm friends with someone on the hospital board. He hired me to look into some suspicious activities."
“Oh.” I got back on track before he decided to get secretive again. "So what did your friend notice?"
"His sister-in-law was in town visiting. She fell and bruised her hip so badly she couldn't walk. Dan took her to the hospital. There were x-rays, of course, and since she also bumped her head when she fell, the hospital kept her in overnight."
"Except the bill didn't match what happened?"
He nodded. "There was some sort of nonsense about treatment of ulcers and an MRI added to the charges."
"The MRI could have happened because of the fall, right?"
He nodded. "But his sister-in-law knows what one is and said it didn't happen. And there was a stack of charges related to swallowing whatever it is they swallow and then x-rays to look for ulcers. Of course, the hospital corrected it immediately when Dan called to complain."
I started to ask another question, but the cat distracted me. It hopped up on the cream-colored leather couch and inspected my leg. Mr. Shadow cat had already met me so there was no real reason for this perusal. Still, after he finished sniffing my blue jeans, he stretched so that his face was near mine. He sniffed again. Finding me lacking, he jumped back to the floor and went over to Huntington and rubbed against his leg.
Huntington smiled like a proud parent.
"You were telling me what Dan did after he got the bad bill?" I prompted dryly.
"Basically he hired me, but he’s a new board member and not sure there’s anything worth investigating.”
A bad bill was a flag, but not a large one. Half the time I went in for a routine exam, my bill appeared inflated by at least fifty percent, but the doctor's office claimed the highway robbery was legal. “He must have had other suspicions.”
Huntington almost smiled. Maybe he admired my tenacity or better yet, maybe he was impressed that I was smart enough to know I didn’t have the whole story yet. Either way, he answered. "Dan worked for the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale until he retired and moved here about a year ago. One of the reasons Dan was so impressed with Crestwood in the first place was because it was very profitable. Mayo is a not-for-profit institution. All the money goes back into the hospital for research and there are always more projects than money. In fact, most hospitals struggle to remain profitable, but Crestwood is doing very well by any standard."
"Maybe too profitable?"
Huntington nodded. "According to Dan's research, Crestwood charges an average of two to three times the price of any other hospital in Colorado."
My eyebrows shot up. "What did the chief of staff have to say about all of this? Surely he knew the hospital was charging more than other hospitals!"
"Dan is friends with Dr. Johnson. One of the reasons he was invited to serve on the board was because he and Dr. Johnson have been friends for years. After the billing mistake Dan started to probe deeper, but then thought better of it. He doesn't want to risk his spot on the board or lose friends if he's wrong."
The wheels in my head churned. "It would look
incredibly bad for Dan if there was no problem at all, I suppose." But if the hospital was overly profitable...Dr. Johnson might already know why. He might even be part of the problem. "You're telling me that Dan didn't bring up his concerns with Dr. Johnson. That would mean that Dr. Johnson, the chief of staff, a man who also sits on the board doesn't know about this investigation."
"The board is paying me to investigate."
I knew Huntington well by now. This was a chess move with one hand waving in distraction. He had a unique way of stating things without telling the whole story. "The board, via Dan, hired you to investigate, but he didn’t tell the rest of the board what he was doing?"
Huntington brooded for a while, no longer amused by my cleverness. This time when he answered, he completely avoided my question. "The high prices at Crestwood aren't entirely unusual. It's the only large medical facility available in the area, and let's face it, Denton is predominantly a resort town. Crestwood not only serves some wealthy visitors, it also serves a large surrounding area. The circumstances allow the hospital to set prices without a lot of comparison or competition. For Medicare, they get the standard payment of course, but for a lot of other patients, they rake it in."
Huntington was keeping secrets on this job, and not just from me. Dan had hired him, but the board was paying him for an investigation it knew little or nothing about. That meant there were even more suspects than I had imagined.
My stomach clenched. "I guess it's a good thing I'm not sickly. I don't think I want to be admitted to this hospital right now."
"You should definitely try to stay healthy for a while," he agreed.
The problem was that whenever I was involved with Huntington, my health seemed to be in imminent danger.
I got up to leave, glad for the new information, but not liking the facts. The cat took two steps in my direction. Looking down at him, I noticed four or five little black hairs on my jeans. "Marilyn is going to need special dust rags. She'll have to vacuum every surface to keep up with Shadow's shedding." Huntington's maid had her work cut out for her. Thinking of her reminded me about her gift certificate. I waved towards the bar where I had left the gifts. "I brought a gift certificate for Marilyn. Can you give it to her when you see her?"
"Sure. I'm having her come once a week." He smiled. "She likes Shadow."
I sniffed skeptically and took my leave.
Chapter 10
Generally speaking, Sundays were lazy days for me, but this time of year, there was no time to snuggle under the covers daydreaming. Christmas cooking called and, if there was time, maybe I could look up one little, important address before church.
I pulled some margarine out of the fridge to soften and booted my computer. The hospital board members were listed on the hospital's web site along with a nice dossier of their very impressive accomplishments, most of which was of little interest. I was only interested in Dr. Dan…Hernandez.
Once I had his full name, his phone number and address were a cinch. Oh, the wonders of modern civilization. I didn't even have to be an expert hacker like Radar.
One quick phone call and I was in. "Dr. Dan? I mean, Dr. Hernandez?" A male voice chuckled on the other end.
"Dr. Dan will work."
"I work for Steve Huntington," I introduced myself. "He went over some background on the case we're working, and I wondered if I could meet with you sometime? I have a few follow-up questions."
"No problem," he agreed heartily. "Steve didn't tell me he would be hiring other people. Come to think of it, he didn't say much about how he would investigate."
I'll bet he hadn't. "Don't worry, sir. He has an excellent track record."
"That he does. But I'd love to talk to you. I have an appointment at three. Why don't you come for lunch, and we'll get it taken care of then?"
Guilt, and not just a little panic at how quickly things had moved, made me stumble over my answer. I had devised wild plots to convince the man to meet with me and fretted about an excuse in case Huntington found out. None of it had been necessary. Well, I was still short a good excuse for Huntington, but I could worry about that later. "Oh, lunch isn't necessary," I said hastily. "I can just stop by for a few minutes."
"Throwing on an extra fillet is no problem. Amy cooks every day anyway. She's an excellent cook. We're having fish."
Arguing seemed pointless. I needed the information, and here was an open invitation. "Well, okay. How do I get there?"
Much to my surprise, he lived nowhere near Alpine Hills and Huntington. Denton had a lot of county roads that meandered off into the mountains. Dr. Dan lived along one of those, just outside the city limits. If I had ever driven that way, I couldn't place a memory of the area. "Okay, I'll see you at noon," I said and hung up.
Now I had to put the margarine to good use, because showing up to lunch empty-handed would not be acceptable. With fish…a nice chocolate cake ought to go perfectly.
I bustled around, got the cake in the oven, showered and picked out one of my more presentable outfits. Dr. Dan probably wouldn't mind jeans, but serious investigators didn't wear them. At least Huntington never did.
Getting to Dr. Dan's house wasn't difficult, especially on a Sunday. There was very little traffic going north through town, and once I was off twenty-four and on the county road there was none. Dr. Dan did not live in a mansion. His lovely, brick ranch-style house sat about two-hundred yards off the road, nestled on forested acreage. Ceiling fans and what looked like track lighting adorned a very long porch. It was nicely decorated for Christmas with fake icicle lights and a stuffed Santa sitting in a rocking chair.
Since Dr. Dan was expecting me, there wasn't a wait after I rang the bell. His wife and a little brown toy poodle greeted me at the door.
"Hi, I'm Sedona."
"Come in, come in. I'm Amy. Oh my, you didn't have to bring anything! Dan is always inviting people over, and we have plenty, but my, that does look delicious." She took the cake and since the patient envelope was under it, nabbed that by accident. She looked like everyone's favorite aunt; a tad plump, warmly dressed in a sequined fleece top and matching bottoms.
"This is Pooh," she said, stepping expertly around the coffee-colored poodle. The dog dutifully sniffed my shoes to find out their secrets. "Just ignore him. His sister is somewhere around here." She used her free hand to point to a little face that peered out from under the sofa. "She's Rabbit. They aren't really related, you know, but of course we tell them they are."
True to her name, the little white dog scurried out, yapped at me and instead of running, she jumped up in the air, landed and then took a few steps and did it again.
"Heya Rabbit," I greeted the little dog. I knelt down so that both dogs could properly inspect my fingers. They discussed my qualifications by sniffing and grunting at each other before following their "mom" into the kitchen.
I set my coat on the couch and played caboose, coming in last. Amy set the cake and papers down on the pristine counter top. The kitchen opened into a wonderful dining room that was all windows overlooking a fabulous yard. Rosebushes and what looked like dormant lilac bushes formed an attractive hedge. If the Hernandez's had any neighbors, and I had seen houses along the way, the trees blocked all but the tops of the mountains in the distance. "This is beautiful."
"We like it. Let me get Dan."
She disappeared down another hallway, but reappeared quickly with Dan in tow. As the two of them walked into the kitchen, that little saying about owners resembling their dogs came to mind. Amy's curly hair formed a dark brown helmet reminiscent of Pooh. Dr. Dan's hair was silver but had grown long enough that it curled on the ends and ran into his wavy beard. His hair wasn't as coiled as Rabbit's, but it was the right color. He had a bounce in his step much like Rabbit's hop.
Dr. Dan was engrossed in the paper he was reading as he approached. His wife tried to snatch the paper from him. "Dear, you're being rude."
Dr. Dan finally looked up. All resemblance to a playful poodle di
sappeared. His gaze was firm and all encompassing. He sized me up, no doubt prepared to jot down my weight, any visible moles, hair color and a battery of suggested blood work.
"Hi. I'm Sedona."
We shook hands, still watching each other warily. "So, you're an investigator."
I opened my mouth to tell him I was really a computer technician, but for the moment he was correct. "Well, yes, for now."
"I would never have guessed that."
I frowned. He sounded like Huntington, as if he doubted my abilities already. "It helps me stay undercover."
His brown eyes lit up, enlightened. "Ah, I suppose that is the case. If you went around looking like a spy, you probably wouldn't learn much."
My point to Huntington many a time. "Exactly."
"Sit down, sit down," Amy scolded. She pulled a couple of plates out of the oven. "These are hot." A fish fillet drizzled with a glaze, asparagus, and a helping of Spanish rice graced each plate.
"Wow." I cooked, but never took the time to arrange anything. Growing up with two brothers meant learning covert elbow techniques and grabbing a big portion. With my brothers, there was no time to appreciate the beauty of the food.
Once we were seated, I tried a bite of everything. The fish was excellent, and I told her so. "Could you give me the recipe?"
"Oh, of course. It's just a lemon butter sauce. But I use margarine because we're watching our cholesterol." She directed a mindful look at her husband, but he just gave her a playful smile.
"Tell me how the case is going," he said.
"I brought a few patient bills along with me." They were still under the cake plate, so I left them for later. "Basically, we're tracking some records and keeping an eye on certain patients as well as looking for charging patterns. But I wanted to ask you a few questions."
"Go ahead, but like I told Steve, I'm pretty new to this area. My sister-in-law's bill could have been a one-time mistake."
"It's possible. What I wanted to know is, who stands to benefit from overcharging?"
Executive Sick Days Page 7
