Board Stiff (Mattie Winston Mysteries)

by Ryan, Annelise

  Hurley starts to walk in, but I grab his arm and stop him. “My coffee has run right through me and I need to make a pit stop at the bathroom in the main hallway. Since the lawyers aren’t here yet, I don’t see any need to rush.”

  “Okay,” Hurley says with a shrug. “I’ll wait.”

  Inside the bathroom, I settle in on a toilet, take the letter I found in Hurley’s bedroom out of my pocket, and read it.

  It takes me a minute or two because the handwriting is very small and precise, and Kate managed to fit a lot of words on one page. I also find myself rereading several lines, wanting to make sure I read them right the first time.

  When I’m done, I sit there stunned for a moment, trying to digest what I just read. I carefully refold the letter and slip it back into my pocket, knowing I will be keenly aware of its presence until I give it to Hurley. And give it to him I will. I must. The question is when.

  For now, the letter resides in my pocket, making me feel like a suicide bomber who knows she will alter several lives forever once she makes the fateful decision to deliver her payload.

  Chapter 23

  By the time Hurley and I join the others in the dining room, it’s a couple minutes after ten. We settle in at the long table where the others are already seated, and after a few perfunctory greetings followed by introductions between Hurley and Dr. Zimmerman, we all sit there bathed in awkward silence. At twelve minutes past the hour, Trisha and her trio of yes-men finally enter the dining room, confirming my suspicion about their late arrival.

  “Good morning, everyone,” Trisha says, with clearly forced cheerfulness. Her gaze doesn’t linger on us long. “I trust you haven’t been snooping inside any of the offices prior to our arrival?” Her tone of voice suggests she thinks we did exactly that.

  “Snooping?” Hurley says with surprising patience. “No, we haven’t been snooping. We have, however, been collecting evidence in the bathroom where Mr. Chase was found, and in his office.”

  Trisha narrows her eyes at Hurley. “Exactly what evidence have you collected so far?”

  “A lot of fingerprints,” Hurley says. “We have taken pictures of everything, including the tax documents Mr. Chase left on top of his desk.” This gets an arched brow from Trisha. “We also collected a lot of miscellaneous items, including the coffee cup that was sitting on his desk, all the items in Mr. Chase’s coffee station, and some swabs of stains we found on his couch.”

  I scan the faces of the others closely when he mentions the coffee cup, but no one seems to react to it.

  “Beyond that, we haven’t looked at any documents, opened any drawers, or sifted through any files other than the ones you knew about last night. Nor have we been in any of the other offices.”

  “You couldn’t have gone through the file cabinets or the desk drawers if you wanted to,” Trisha says with a hint of smugness in her voice. “I made sure they were locked before we left last night and I have the only key.”

  Hurley lets out a hearty laugh, which makes Trisha’s smile falter ever so slightly. “Your efforts to keep me honest are laughable,” he says. “The locks on that desk and those cabinets can be picked by an amateur in about two minutes.”

  Trisha’s smile is gone completely. This is Hurley at his best, and I wince, knowing that sometime today I will have to divulge the letter to him. Its contents will undoubtedly put him off his game.

  “Were you honest, Detective?” Trisha asks.

  “Of course I was.”

  She and Hurley lock eyes for several seconds, each of them weighing the other. It’s a battle of wills and I’m curious to see who will back down first.

  “Okay then,” Trisha says, looking around the table at the others. “What questions do you have for us, Detective?”

  “My first question is about the ownership structure of the Twilight Home. My understanding is that Bernard Chase is the owner, but I would like to know if he is the sole proprietor, or if the facility is structured as a corporation or partnership of some type.”

  Al Hubbard glances over at Trisha, who gives him a nod. “Bernard is . . . was . . . the majority owner, but he did structure his ownership as a partnership.”

  “Who are the other partners?” Hurley asks.

  “There’s only one,” Al says. “And it’s a secret partner. None of us knows who that person is. The actual structure of the partnership agreement dictates that Bernard gets sixty percent of any profits and the secret partner gets forty.”

  “Is this secret partner also an investor?” Hurley asks.

  “That’s been my understanding,” Al says. “Though to be honest, I’m not privy to the actual contractual arrangements. As the CFO, my responsibility is managing the inflow and outflow of money related to the day-to-day functions of the facility. As for the ownership structure, I’ve nothing to do with that.”

  Hurley looks over at Trisha with a questioning expression.

  She shrugs and shakes her head. “Our firm was not involved in the establishment of the partnership. We are aware of the terms of the partnership contract, but we don’t know who the secret partner is, either. I assume Bernard had another lawyer draw up the agreement.”

  “What happens to the partnership now that Bernard is dead?” Hurley asks her.

  “The partnership automatically dissolves,” Oscar Walden says. “However, Mr. Chase did tell me once that the terms of this specific partnership allow for either partner to buy out the other if one wants to sell, or if one of them is incapacitated in some way. If that doesn’t happen, the business is put up for sale.”

  Trisha says, “Our function is to make sure that the facility continues to run and that the patients are properly cared for until the disposition of the business is determined and finalized.”

  “Do you know where Bernard’s money comes from?” Hurley asks. We already have a pretty good idea what the answer is, thanks to the information that Monica revealed to Junior, but it never hurts to verify things.

  “It’s family money,” Trisha says, confirming what we’ve already heard. “He inherited a good chunk from his parents, both of whom are dead. I believe he invested in some other businesses that didn’t do so well for him, so he decided to try some aspect of healthcare, thinking it would be a business with more longevity and opportunities for profitability.”

  “What about a will?” Hurley asks. “Does your firm have one on file?”

  “No,” Trisha says. “I’m guessing that’s with the same lawyer who drafted the partnership agreement.”

  Jeanette Throckmorton says, “I know Bernard had a file containing legal documents. It’s possible his will and the partnership agreement are in it.”

  “And where might that file be?” Hurley asks.

  “In his safe.”

  “And where is the safe?”

  “In his office.”

  Hurley and I exchange puzzled looks. If there was a safe in Bernie’s office, neither of us saw it.

  “Where in his office?” Hurley asks. “I don’t recall seeing one anywhere.”

  Jeanette explains why. “It’s hidden. The wall between the two narrow cabinets hanging on either side of his sink is a false one. If you push on it, it opens, revealing a safe.”

  “Do you know the combination for it?”

  Jeanette shakes her head.

  Hurley lets out a perturbed sigh and rolls his eyes. “I don’t suppose any of you know the combination?” he asks the others in the room.

  There is a collective shaking of heads as they all exchange looks.

  “Great,” Hurley says. “I’ll have to get a locksmith to drill it open.” He looks over at Trisha. “Do you have any objections to that?”

  “What? You can’t pick that one with your handy little Boy Scout lock pick set?” Trisha says with a sarcastic grin.

  Hurley glares at her and I mentally award a grudging point to Trisha.

  “Whenever you get around to opening it,” Trisha continues, “I or one of my colleagues need
s to be there. Since none of us know what documents Bernard might have kept in that safe, it’s imperative that we have a first look at anything that comes out of it.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Hurley says.

  “Good, then let’s move on.”

  “I would like to see a current copy of the Twilight Home financial records, and a list of all the admissions and deaths since Bernard bought the place.”

  “Those are all a matter of public record,” Trisha says.

  “Yes, I know that, but it will save me a lot of time if you can provide them for me. Call it a gesture of good will, a demonstration of your intent to cooperate. I’m interested in going a little deeper in the financial records than what is required to file with the state. I want to see the payor mix for all the patients here.”

  “I don’t see the relevance of the payor mix information,” Trisha says.

  “The relevance is this rumor going around about Bernard Chase bumping off patients that don’t pay well.”

  “I thought we resolved that issue last night,” Trisha says irritably. “Mrs. Simmons pointed out two very needy and costly patients who have been here for a long time. Certainly if that rumor was true, those two patients would have been ‘bumped off’ long ago,” she says, making little air quotes with her fingers for the words bumped off.

  “It’s far from resolved,” I say. “The two patients that Mrs. Simmons mentioned are both private pay patients. Caroline Masters won several large malpractice settlements against her physician, a Milwaukee hospital, and a drug manufacturer. It seems her stroke wasn’t a hemorrhagic one as I was told initially. Originally, she had a blood clot and her doctor used a new drug to try to break up that clot. That drug was still being trialed and the doctor didn’t obtain the appropriate consents before using it. It caused a massive hemorrhage in Caroline’s brain, which is what left her in the condition she’s in now. She has millions to pay for her care, so when it comes to footing the cost, Bernard wasn’t limited to any capped Medicare or Medicaid payments. The Twilight Home can charge whatever it wants and get it.

  “Charles Dresden has his own money, too, though his comes from his wealthy family. So you see, they don’t really fit the mold of ‘costly patients.’ ” I couch my last two words in finger quotes for Trisha’s benefit.

  Before anyone else can say a word, Hurley jumps in. “Besides, it doesn’t really matter if the rumor is true or not. The fact that people here believe it to be true is all that’s important. At this point, I have no evidence to prove the rumor untrue. That’s why I need the list of deaths I requested.”

  Trisha was looking at Hurley while he spoke, but as soon as he finishes she shifts her steely glare toward me. “May I ask how you obtained this information about these two patients?”

  “We have our own sources,” I say vaguely.

  Trisha narrows her eyes at me and I know she suspects me of looking at the charts of these two patients. If she happens to talk to Connie at any point, I will surely be busted. But if that happens, I’m hoping it will occur late enough in the process that it won’t matter.

  Just when I’m about to think that Trisha’s icy stare is putting a freeze on my heart, Hurley distracts her with his next demand. “I also want to have a look at the other offices in the administrative wing.”

  Trisha lets out a little sigh. “I will be happy to escort you into each of the other offices, but I’m going to limit you to whatever is clearly visible. There will be no opening of drawers, examining of files, or any other invasive searches unless I okay it. Is that understood?”

  Hurley nods. “A walk-through is all I need for now. But only one lawyer is to go with me. The rest of you will need to find somewhere else to wait until we’re done. Or if you prefer, you can leave.”

  “And Ms. Winston will need to be with us,” Trisha says. “I don’t want her wandering off on her own.”

  Before either Hurley or I can respond to this demand, Arnie enters the dining room carrying a small kit bag.

  “Perfect timing,” Hurley says, turning back to the others in the room. “This is Arnie Toffer with the medical examiner’s office. He is going to fingerprint all of you.”

  Joe Zimmerman looks at Trisha. “Can they do that?”

  “At this point, only with your permission,” Trisha says. “However, their main objective is to rule out those prints one would expect to find in the crime scene area, meaning the administrative offices. So unless your fingerprints will be found somewhere where they shouldn’t be, there’s no reason for you to refuse. I’m sure each and every one of you has been in all of these offices at one time or another.”

  “Mr. Toffer is also going to ask each of you for your whereabouts between the hours of nine and noon yesterday morning, and between seven and nine o’clock last night.”

  Trisha shoots Hurley a confused look. “I get the morning hours, but why the evening ones?”

  “I’m not at liberty to divulge that at this time,” he says, and I mentally add another hatch mark in his column. Hurley then asks, “Which one of you lawyers is going to accompany me to the other offices?”

  While Trisha and her cohorts decide who’s going to do what, I sidle over to Arnie for a chat. He’s unloading his supplies from the bag he brought with him, including a stack of blank ten cards, a black ink pad and roller, and a package of baby wipes.

  “What’s up with the black ink and the ten cards?” I ask him in a low voice. “Didn’t you see that nifty new scanning tablet they were using last night?”

  “I did,” Arnie says. “But I had a little chat with Hurley this morning while you were elsewhere doing whatever you were doing, and he told me he specifically wanted me to use the ink pad on this group. I think he’s doing it to piss them off.”

  I smile at that. Once again, it’s Hurley in classic form. And once again, I remember the letter in my pocket and the devastating information it contains. I’m dreading giving it to Hurley and I wish I had someone to talk to, someone to get advice from about how to do it. I briefly consider talking to Arnie, but quickly discard the idea. I would have to explain how I found the letter in the first place, and doing so would shed an unwanted light on my current relationship with Hurley. That means Izzy is ruled out as well and that makes me sad. Izzy is a smart man who understands human nature and emotions better than most. I value his judgment and opinions highly and would love to bounce this situation off him before I do anything. But I can’t. For this one, I’m afraid I’m on my own.

  “Well,” Arnie says, “I best get to it. It looks like I have a lot of fingers to roll.”

  After some discussion, the lawyers agree that Trisha will accompany us to Bernie’s office to have a look at the safe while the others remain and get fingerprinted. Once the fingerprinting is done, the board members are free to leave after Hurley and I have toured their respective offices. As Arnie commences with the fingerprinting, Trisha, Hurley, and I all head for Bernard’s office.

  Once inside the office, Hurley puts on a pair of gloves, walks over to the sink area, and probes the wall that Jeanette mentioned. A few seconds later, the wall pops open, swinging on hidden hinges. Behind it is a wall safe with a combination lock.

  “Well, you were right, Trisha,” Hurley says. “I won’t be picking this thing open.”

  “Hold on a sec,” I say. I walk over to the desk and look at the day calendar. One of the days is circled in red and has a special notation on it. I do a quick mental calculation in my head using Bernie’s age, a fact I recall from the paperwork I saw at the office. “Try this combination—three, thirty, sixty-eight.”

  Hurley dials the numbers in and opens the door. “How did you know that?”

  “It’s his birthday.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Trisha says. “He used his birthday for the combination? How stupid is that?” She steps up quickly to see and commandeer whatever is in the safe. She starts to reach inside, but Hurley grabs her arm and stops her.

  “You don�
�t touch anything in there until you put some gloves on,” he says.

  Trisha pulls her arm loose. “Fine. Where are they?”

  I grab a pair of gloves and hand them to her. While she’s pulling them on, Hurley is looking inside the safe. “I think we’re going to find the contents a bit disappointing. I see a passport, some cash, a few loose pills, and some letters.”

  Now that she’s gloved, Trisha walks over and starts pulling things out of the safe. The first thing she grabs is the passport, which is Bernard’s. It’s been well used. There are stamps from several European countries, a couple South American countries, China, and Japan. Next, she removes the cash, which turns out to be four stacks of fifty dollar bills. We don’t take the time to count it all, but it appears that there are close to one hundred bills in each stack. I do some quick math in my head and realize there is somewhere around twenty thousand dollars in total. It’s a large amount of money to have lying around in cash, and it makes me wonder why Bernard felt he needed to have it.

  Next, Trisha removes the pills from the safe and hands them to me. There are seven of them in total and they are all the same: pear-shaped, beige-colored pills with a script letter C inscribed on them along with the number twenty.

  “Do you know what those are?” Hurley asks.

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t. I’ll have to look them up using our pill identifier software. But I’m pretty sure they aren’t narcotics or any type of street drug.” I drop the pills into an evidence bag, seal it, and then label it. While I’m doing this, Trisha removes the stack of letters from the safe, and after a quick glance, she hands them to Hurley. “What are those?” I ask after he’s looked at a couple of them.