by Paula Boyd
I managed to regain my wits enough to remember how to pop the trunk. That done, my still-shaking hands needed something to do, so I adjusted my sunglasses and fluffed my hair again.
Watching in the side mirror, I saw Gilbert grab a large red ice chest with a white lid from the bed of his truck bed and carry it toward the car. A thump in the cargo hold and a slam of the trunk lid confirmed that I now had full and complete possession of the stolen and illegal goods. Yay.
Gilbert walked up to my window, his right hand absently rubbing his still-healing left shoulder. He rested a hand on the roof of the car then bent his tall frame down toward me. “You better take a look at that stuff before you turn it over.”
“I’d ask why you think I need to do that, but I don’t have time to hear it or think about the answer and I’m not sure I even want to.”
“You probably don’t, which is why you should.”
“Don’t start any cryptic crap,” I said, shaking my head. “I have to go.”
“Take it easy on the drive back,” he said, staring down at me. “You might not be so lucky next time, and waking up dead would really screw up your schedule.”
“I don’t plan on dying.”
He rubbed his shoulder. “Nobody ever does.”
I stared at him and shook my head. “You shouldn’t have done this, Gilbert. Really, you shouldn’t have.”
He tapped his hand on the roof of the car. “We’ll see.”
Chapter 29
I pulled into the Redwater Falls Physical Rehabilitation Hospital parking lot alive and only nine minutes past the prescribed time—both minor miracles, considering. Nevertheless, I was still late, so I ran through the front doors, across the lobby and headed toward the hallway that housed the director’s office.
As I passed the first corridor and neared the second, a loud male voice boomed out into the hallway. “Well, you better listen!” Since I couldn’t see anyone, it had to be coming from one of the nearby rooms. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t exactly place it.
“I am not Mister,” the man yelled. “You call me Doctor!”
Well, I knew that line. But why would “Call Me Doctor” Waverman be here? He’d been sort of dead twice and now he was here? That definitely made me curious.
“Get out!” he bellowed again. “I don’t have to put up with this!”
Curiosity aside, I had something I wasn’t going to put up with either—like a consultant drug dealer. And now, I had a very convenient opportunity to tell him so. I might also share the news that nobody was going to call him doctor in jail either—at least not in a way he’d like.
Now that Waverman had been handed to me on a platter, I was wishing I’d taken the time to look at the stuff in the trunk so I could be more specific when I nailed him for it. But, the clock was still ticking, so I’d have to make my initial informatory visit brief.
As I reached the first room on the left. A woman in blue scrubs came marching out, carrying a metal clipboard and muttering under her breath. She was so focused on her annoyance at her new patient that she didn’t seem to notice me, which was a good thing, and I slipped in the room right behind her.
“I told you I want that door closed!” Waverman howled.
“I suspect everyone in the building wants your door closed, Doctor Waverman,” I said, walking toward the bed—and the beached whale propped up in it. “Your happy howls are bouncing off the walls in every direction. I heard you when I came in the front door.”
Waverman’s head snapped around, the reading glasses perched on his nose almost falling off. A thick black carrying case stuffed with papers rested on the bed beside him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I walked up to the bed and looked down at him. “I was going to ask you the same question, but right now I don’t care. I have bigger and better questions for you.”
“I’m here because the damn doctors and my damn wife made it so I couldn’t go home, that’s why I’m here,” he said, ignoring my very clear statement that I did not care. “Otherwise, I’d be on the job taking care of my business. I want to know what’s going on out there, because I sure don’t like what I’m hearing.”
“I bet you don’t. And I assure you, I don’t like it either. I’m most especially disturbed about your big stash of stuff in the red ice chest.”
His eyes got big and his hands balled up into fists. “Nobody’s supposed to be messing with that!”
“Yeah, well, somebody has messed with it.”
“I have to have that!” Waverman sucked in gulps of air that seemed to puff him up like a muffin. And from the red-purple splotches blooming on his cheeks, I’d have to call it a blueberry muffin. “No!” he howled. “I knew I should have never left that to those idiots!” Doctor Puff ‘N Stuff scowled and pointed his finger at me. “This is going to cost you!”
“Seems to me, Doctor Waverman, that it’s nearly cost you your life twice already. Although, given what I now know, I’m not sure resuscitating a drug dealer was such a brilliant move on my part.”
He locked his eyes on me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Knock, knock,” a chirpy male voice said behind me. “Anyone home?”
I turned to see Phillip Finch striding into the room, sporting his usual amiable smile and accommodating demeanor. “Hello, Jolene,” he said, nodding as he walked past me to stand on the other side of Waverman. “I took care of everything you asked me to, Richard. We’re all set for tomorrow.”
Waverman cut his eyes at me then looked back at Finch. “You didn’t have any problems?”
“No, no,” Finch said, shaking his head. “Everything’s good.”
“If there’s a problem, I want to know about it right now. I’ve had a bad feeling about things for days.” He pointed to me. “And now she shows up, telling me people have been messing with the supplies. I want to know what’s going on.”
“So do I, Richard,” I said, using his first name just to yank his chain. “And it seems like in the whole scheme of things, I’m the least of your worries.”
Finch cackled as if I’d told a funny joke, which I had not.
Waverman frowned at Finch. “Somebody better tell me what the hell’s happening on my project! Is that redneck asshole Gilbert Moore causing problems?”
“No, not at all,” Finch said, dialing down his chuckles, but still grinning. “He’s keeping things moving. Nothing out of the ordinary. One hole went a little slower than expected today, but nothing significant. We’re still on track.”
“Pssst…pssst, pssst.”
I turned toward the noise, which seemed to be coming from the hallway.
“Pssst…pssst, pssst.”
Waverman asked Finch more questions, but I couldn’t follow because the rhythmic noise in the hallway kept distracting me. It almost sounded like one of those portable oxygen machines, kicking on and off. I turned around to see if I could identify it, and a flash of pinkish-blond hair disappeared around the edge of the doorway. No, it was not a machine. It was a voice.
“Pssst…pssst, pssst. Jolene!” the voice whisper-yelled. “Get over here!”
Waverman and Finch were engrossed in their discussion and hadn’t heard the noise, so they didn’t even notice when I backed away. I stepped out into the hall as directed by the not-so-mysterious voice.
“She’s back again,” Lucille said, still whispering, her eyes darting up and down the hallway. “Nurse Linda’s been flitting around everywhere, acting all nicey-nice, even smiled at me. Something’s up, I tell you.” She looked over her shoulder and then up the hall toward the lobby again. “Jerry Don’s here too. He and Perez are in with that hateful director right now. The door’s closed, but you can still hear all the yelling anyway. She’s up to no good, I tell you. You should’ve let me give her a what-for when I had the chance.”
Maybe I should have. Because now, I was the one in the queue to get a what-for—a big one. “The yelling is probably because I’m not ther
e. I’m about twenty minutes late to the party.”
“What do you mean?” Lucille said. “What’s going on? You better tell me what they’re up to.”
“I’m not sure, but I think they want to wrap all this mess up in a neat little bow with my name on it and I’m not going to let them.”
“Well, I should say not! You’ve only done what was right and proper and nobody’s going to say otherwise. I’m putting a stop to this nonsense, one way or another.” She patted her chest. “Let’s go!”
“No, I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the man in this room and his guests.” I glanced back in the room at Waverman. “His name is Richard Waverman and he’s the environmental consultant on the project. The smaller man standing beside the bed is his second in command, Phillip Finch.”
“You mean that’s the old goat you saved from dying yesterday? And now he’s here?”
“Yes, and there’s an even worse twist on it since it looks like he may be into some seriously illegal stuff. I have an ice chest full of street drugs in my car.”
“Oh, my Lord! You ought to not be carrying around things like that, Jolene! Somebody might think it’s yours, and you could even get arrested!”
“Yes, that could be a problem.”
Lucille’s head popped up and her eyes snapped open wide. “It’s in my car! Oh, my Lord, they’re going to come after me too!” Her head swiveled side to side as if watching a tennis match. “No, I just can’t abide that. I already have more trouble than you can shake a little hairy stick at and I do not want any more. You go on back outside right now and get that nonsense out of my car!”
“Thank you so much for your concern for my personal welfare, Mother,” I said, wearily. “But not to worry, neither you nor your car is at risk. It’s all on me.”
“Well, missy, if you’re driving my car it’s sure enough on me too!”
“I’m not driving your car,” Mother. I’m using one from the estate. None of this is your problem. You’re in the clear. Scot free. Nothing to worry about,” I said, hoping one of the phrases would suit her. “Sorry I mentioned it. Forget I did.”
“Well, I most certainly will not forget it. I want to know why you aren’t driving my car!” she said, shifting gears. “It’s a perfectly good car and you seemed to like it just fine before. Why isn’t it good enough now? Got your fancy cars now and won’t be seen it?” She narrowed her eyes and stared at me, eyeball to eyeball, as if using her superpowers to read my mind. “You’re hiding something. Where’s my car? What have you done to it?”
“The Buick is at the house, Mother,” I said, confidently. The statement was true. In fact, there were probably two Buicks there to uphold the truthfulness of my words. That her particular model was in pieces and would never again carry her to the DQ for a chicken basket was a totally separate issue best addressed at a later date. “Listen, Mother, I need you to watch Doctor Waverman’s room and see who comes in and out. If he’s the dealer, somebody’s probably going to show up to find out why his stash is missing.”
“I don’t like it.” Lucille leaned on her walker. “We start fooling around with two-bit drug dealers, we’re liable to let our own criminals get away.” She shook her head and tsk-tsked me. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved with this, Jolene.”
Oh, so many snippy retorts and so little time. None of them would be worth the resulting fallout anyway, so I agreed with her. “You’re right. We don’t want anything to distract, and if you’ll just keep an eye out for a while, it could wind up helping us both.”
She thought on it then said, “Okay. But you better hurry up and get your business handled so we can get back to what’s important.”
Yes, I definitely needed to get my business handled. My absence might have already backed Perez and Jerry into a corner I couldn’t get myself out of. “Finch just came by to update Waverman on the project, so I don’t figure he’ll stay long, but who knows. Just walk around the area and keep an eye out.”
“Well, I suppose it won’t be too much extra trouble since I’m patrolling anyway.” Lucille huffed then turned narrowed steely eyes toward me. “With drugs involved, you never know what could happen. There could be some thugs showing up. How am I going to know who to take down if the deal goes bad?”
“For godsake, don’t take anybody down!” You’d think by now I’d have been able to see that coming, but I hadn’t. “Do not shoot anyone,” I stressed. “No guns. No bullets. No gun fire.” My attempt to close all the potential loopholes was pointless and I knew it. Lucille would shoot whoever she pleased, whenever she pleased and however she pleased. I know, because I’ve seen her do it--repeatedly. “Please.”
“I know how to handle these things, Jolene.” She shooed her hands at me. “You just run along.”
And again, I bit back a whole string of pithy responses and took off.
As I scurried through the halls toward the director’s office, I noticed many censuring eyes following me. Perhaps it was because running in the halls was inappropriate. Or, perhaps it was because I was on the rehab’s most wanted list. No one seemed inclined to form a posse to stop me, so I uninhibitedly raced to the office door, flung it open and swooped inside.
Jerry and Perez jumped to their feet and reflexively grabbed the hunks of metal strapped on their hips. In retrospect, gently opening the door and sneaking inside would have probably been a better choice. But, since they hadn’t actually drawn their weapons on me, I was going to take it as a positive sign.
“So good of you to decide to join us, Miss Jackson,” the director said, still seated, her voice dripping with contempt. “And only a half hour late.”
I looked over at Jerry and gave him the best silent apology I could muster. He just stared back with a blank face. Perez frowned.
Director Hall had not leaped to her feet at my entrance. She just sat there, glaring at me. “I’d hoped you would have realized the seriousness of your actions and—”
“I’d hoped the same of you,” I said, interrupting. A wave of calm rippled through me. I was so done with this game. This woman did not hold my life in her hands and it was time she knew it. “You see, Miz Hall, I am quite clear on the seriousness of my actions—and the potential consequences for both of us. However, I’m not sure that you are.”
“And just what does that mean?” the director said. “I know exactly what’s going on here and you are not going to get away with it!”
Perez shook his head and Jerry cleared his throat, but I kept talking.
“Let’s start with what you’re not going to get away with. Like demanding I attend a meeting with less than an hour’s notice so you can force things your way and make me a scapegoat. Well, I will not be set up and will not go quietly. I will do whatever it takes to make sure everyone knows about all the illegal activities going on here, not to mention the string of unexplained deaths.”
The director sucked in a breath, slammed her hands on the desk and jumped to her feet. “How dare you!”
“Jolene,” Perez said. “If you’ll—”
“No, Lieutenant, I have walked on eggshells around this woman for the last time. Try to make this my problem and I’ll have a team of attorneys down here so fast it will make your head spin.”
The director her eyes bugged out and her glasses slipped off her nose. “Don’t you dare threaten me! You’re the one in trouble here—very serious trouble—and you are most certainly going to need an attorney!” She snapped her head around and pointed to Perez. “I want her arrested. Right now!”
“Jolene,” Jerry said, stepping toward me. “We were working out the details of how to handle the situation before you arrived. If you’ll sit down for a moment, we’ll explain.”
“It is too late for that now!” Director Hall said, her jaw quivering. “Arrest her!”
I turned to Perez and held up my hands. “Well? Hurry up so I can make my one phone call to the press.”
“I’m not going to arrest you, Jolene,” he said,
wearily. “I had already explained that to Director Hall before you arrived. Don’t make me reconsider.”
“Why not?” I dropped my hands and shrugged. “You know I took blood samples and pills from the lab.”
“You did what!”
“Oh, come on, Paula. This isn’t a new revelation. You have me on video. You know, when your nurse took Doris down for an unscheduled blood draw and pill popping. That’s when I helped Melody get her out, before she wound up with a ticket on the daily funeral home express.”
“You don’t know what’s scheduled around here and what isn’t,” she snapped. Turning to Perez, she said, “I don’t have to listen to these wild accusations. Get her out of here.”
Neither Perez nor Jerry spoke. They had their eyes locked on the director. I took that as a sign for me to continue, which I was happy to do.
“And did you know about the part about where your staff gave my mother pills that weren’t prescribed for her?” When she wavered as if she’d been slapped, I knew she didn’t. “Yes, it was quite a shock to me too,” I said, quite congenially—or fake congenially. “Well, not that it happened, but that my mother kept the pills to prove it. I took them to be tested, along with Doris’ blood sample and the pills from your lab. Fascinating results, just fascinating.”
The director’s face fell as she looked to Perez and then Jerry. “You…you…should have told me…”
“Your staff had already been alerted to police involvement before Lieutenant Perez arrived,” Jerry said. “Distributing these details to the staff would have further compromised the investigation.”
“There are serious issues here, Miz Hall,” Perez said. “The owner of this facility may have had enough pull to get the department to back off temporarily, but this isn’t going away. The lab results are still coming in and the recent deaths are being reviewed. There will be accountability. State and federal regulators will be notified as well.”
