Deadly Dosage (30 page)

     I
didn’t want to leave the orange juice bottle in my desk, nor did I want to use
the staff refrigerator. So I walked into the kitchen and got the attention of a
dietary aide. It took some fancy talking, but in the end, she agreed to
refrigerate my lunch bag if I removed it before the served lunch.

As I walked back to the front office, I passed Gus tinkering
with the glass display case used to show off the arts and crafts done by the not-so-talented
residents.

     “Trying
to break in and steal something,” I joked.

     “I’ve
had my eye on this farmer voodoo doll for a while now,” he said with mock
interest.

     “That
is a keeper. Well, don’t use it on me.”

     I
entered the office through the back door and turned on the lights as I went.
After I stored my belongings, I counted the petty cash to make sure I had it
reconciled to the penny. I would have to make a trip to the bank before the end
of the week.

     Coffee
needed to be made, mail needed to be sorted and I needed more migraine pills.
Two more hours before I could indulge again. Maybe the caffeine in the coffee
would take away some of my head pain. I started the coffee and opened the
receptionist window, now covered in leprechaun window clings. Looked like
Shantel went gonzo with decorations.

     An
ambulance pulled up and a stout, woman with short white hair in a paramedic
outfit jumped out and entered the building. She came to the front desk and
asked for directions to the Medicare wing. I told her and seconds later, our
newest admission came through the doors along with a freezing gust of air.

     When
the computer came up, I checked my e-mails. Autumn sent a lengthy one about
Spring’s wedding. Halfway through Shantel scared the crap out of me, with a
hand on my shoulder.

     “Jesus!”
I rubbed my forehead, gazing at her. “Thought you were The Hawk. Now I have to
go change my pants.”

     “Shouldn’t
be using my computer for personal business,” she admonished.

     “What
are you doing here so early anyway?”

     “Taking
the kids to the dentist later, so I’m leaving at three. I’m making up the time
in advance.”

     “Oh.
Coffee should be done if you want some. Donna’s here already and the hair
dresser called to say she won’t be in tomorrow.” I closed out of the e-mail and
exited out of my mail program.

     “Mrs.
Dixon’s gonna be disappointed.” She took her cup and went to the coffee maker.

I turned to face her. “So how’d it go with Leroy last night?”

Her hand shook as she poured the coffee, causing a bead to
drip down the side of her cup. “Shit, that man hasn’t improved at all.” She
wiped the drip off the cup with her finger and licked it. “Showed up late, his
eyes, all glassy like he’s been smoking some weed. Made me pay for the meal.”
She returned to the desk and I rose to leave. “Waste of my time.”

     “Sorry
to hear that.”

     “All
for the best. The Lord knows what he’s doing child.”

      “If
you say so,” I shrugged. “Sometimes I think God is just as messed up as the
rest of us.”

     In
my office, I flicked on the computer and attempted to catch up on my filing.
The amount of paperwork that crossed my desk could easily create a small
mountain in a landfill.

The fun part about filing is the numerous paper cuts you get,
especially those made by the edge of a brand new, stiff manila folder. I keep
Band-Aids in my drawer at all times. Nobody wants to receive a blood-covered
bill, though I’ve sent out a few envelopes that way.

     “Sonofabitch!”
I yelled. That’s what I get for trying to be neat.

     “You
okay in there, Sunny?”

     “Yeah.
Damn paper cut.” Not too deep, so I wrapped a wad of tissue around it and kept
filing.

      Gus
peeked into my office. “Looks like the voodoo doll works.” He laughed and moved
on.

     Guy’s
a real crackup. I sat down and pulled a stack of work in front of me. Bills
needed to be sent out soon, so I entered the coinsurance payments I received.
Looked like Mr. Schroeder’s insurance denied coverage again. I slid my chair
across the floor to my desk and dialed the number on the explanation of benefit
form (EOB.)

     Ten
minutes later, I had a person on the line. I made my inquiry and discovered Mr.
Schroeder’s insurance expired a month ago, terminated policy. The Hawk was
going to have a shit fit that I didn’t catch this earlier. Was it my fault it
took thirty days for a claim to be paid?

According to my calculations, his Medicare coverage would
last another ten days, which could keep him going another month with how
frequently he returned to the hospital. However, with a month of unpaid
coinsurance, he already owed over four thousand dollars not counting this
month.

     I
checked the admission face sheet, found his daughter’s phone number, and
dialed. She answered with a snarl.

     “Mrs.
Foster, this is Summer Kramer, from Ageless Grace,” I said.

     “Now
what?”

     “I
need to speak with you regarding your father’s insurance. I called and the
insurance company said his policy was cancelled. Did you miss a payment?”

     “No,
I didn’t miss a payment. I cancelled it. It cost him over five thousand dollars
a year for that. No point wasting money, since Medicare pays for everything.”

     “Mrs.
Foster, I explained to you before that a coinsurance premium is due beginning
the twenty-first day of his Medicare stay. His insurance was covering this
expense. Without the coverage, he owes over four thousand dollars just for last
month.”

     “I’m
sure you’re wrong.”

     “I
have the proof in my office.”

     “Fine.
I’ll be in this afternoon. I suggest you have the proof ready.” She hung up.

     I
stared at the handset before replacing it. Great. The way I figured it, she had
plans for Mr. Schroeder’s money and it didn’t have anything to do with his
healthcare. At least with her coming in, I might get to do the orange juice
swap but I needed a decoy. Donna. I could have her give the woman some bull
about missing paperwork.

I dialed her extension. “Hey, Donna, are you free?”

     “For
five minutes.” She sounded stressed.

     “Enough.
I’ll be right there.”

     Whipping
around the corner, I almost knocked over Shantel who stood in front of the fax
machine. “Need to talk to Donna. I’ll be right back.”

     I
jogged across the hall and entered her cubicle of an office. “Get’s more
claustrophobic in here every week,” I said removing a stack of papers from the
chair so I could sit down.

     “No
time to file. I’m always out of the office or giving tours. What’s up? Sam changes
his mind about Friday night.”

     “No,
we’re still on. I’m seeing him Saturday night.”

     “Good.
Because I would have been mad if you cancelled on me. So what do you need?”

     “A
diversion. You know Amy Foster?”

     “Who
doesn’t? What about her?”

     “This
sounds strange, but I need you to ask her to sign her name to some admission
papers. I know she signed everything already, but say you need updated forms or
something.”

     “Why?”

     “Every
time she visits, she brings OJ for her dad and forces him to drink it and he
gets sick. I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence or not but I want to find
out. I need to swap out the orange juice bottle after she gives it to him.”

     “Are
you feeling okay?”

     “You
don’t have to understand. I’ll let you know when she comes in. I’ll go to Mr.
Schroeder’s room on some pretense, and when she gives him the orange juice,
I’ll pick up Mr. Harper’s phone and ring your extension. You come in and tell
her you need her to sign the forms. When she leaves, I can do the swap. You
follow?”

     “What
if I’m not in my office?”

     “You
would think of that. Um, I’ll have Shantel page you instead. How does that
sound?”

     “Crazy.
She didn’t want to sign the forms the first time around.”

     “I
don’t know, tell her…” I snapped my fingers. “Got it! Tell her we can’t return
any unused money…”

“Yeah?”

“Won’t work. She’s not paying his bills now.” I concentrated until
I thought my eyes would pop from the pressure.

     “I
know!” Donna said. “A form declining haircuts. If she’s cheap, she’ll want to
sign it so she doesn’t get charged.”

     “Pure
genius, Donna. So are you in?”

     “Why
not? Might add some excitement to my day.”

     “Thanks,
Donna. I think she usually comes around two.” I gave her a thumbs up and
returned to my office.

     Sam’s
roses were almost open, so my office smelled sweet. I selected Mr. Schroeder’s
file and placed it on my desk, adding the newest correspondence to his bulging folder.
I returned to my computer and entered some ancillaries until my phone rang.

     On
the second rang, I picked up. “Summer Kramer.”

     “Hi,
sweetheart,” crooned Sam.

     “Don’t
‘hi sweetheart’ me,” I said peevishly. “I saw the buttons on Brandi’s dress. Thought
she didn’t mean anything to you.”

     “She
doesn’t,” was his measured reply. “But, if I date a girl, I like to send her
off with a smile on her face. Besides, all you have to do is accept my proposal
and end this nonsense,” he replied arrogantly.

     “Hey,
it’s not like Lloyd lives with you and parades around with my hickies on his
neck.”

     “At
least you know what I’m doing with her, I’m left with my imagination,” he
answered cunningly.

     I’d
have to spend some time analyzing that response. Was knowing better than not
knowing? Hmmm.

     “Sunny?”

     “I’ll
reserve my opinion until I consider the matter further.”

     “So
not only are you beautiful, you are wise.”

     “Sweet
talk with no substance,” I opined.

     “How
about…I love the perfume of your scent, the music of your voice, the taste of
your warm lips and the soft caress of your fingertips across my—?”

     “Is
this phone sex?” I interrupted.

     “Why,
is it getting you horny?”

     “Maybe.”

     He
chuckled. “I better stop before you start moaning and embarrass yourself.”

     “Chicken,”
I taunted.

     “Didn’t
your dad teach you not to play with fire?”

     “I
may not have been listening.”

     “Well,
listen now.” He paused. “Good, you’re listening. I’m going to pick you up for
work Friday. My friend said he could work on your car and have it done by Saturday
afternoon. I’ll pick you up for our date and you can drive your car home
Sunday.”

     “Drive
it home when?”

     “You
heard me, sweetheart.”

     “We’ll
see. Thanks, Sam. I’ll ask Donna or Autumn for a ride home.”

     “Okay.
Stay out of trouble. Love you.”

     “I love
you too,” I said surprising myself.

     “See,
that wasn’t so hard.”

     “Guess
not.”

     “See
you six in the a.m. on Friday.”

     “Why
so early?”

     “We
can get a bite to eat and don’t forget, I work too.”

     “Okay.
See you then. Bye.”

     “Bye.”

     I
hung up the phone and stared at the wall. For the first time since I started
dating Sam, I finally said “I” love you, not just the flirty love you. It just
slipped out as though it had been waiting on my tongue for just the right
moment, and somehow he was expecting it.

Game
time. Shantel called to say Amy Foster just passed her desk. I called Donna.
“It’s on,” I said simply and hung up.

     I
left my office and went straight to the kitchen where I retrieved the brown bag
with the orange juice bottle, before being noticed by the staff. Increasing the
speed of my gait, I entered the Medicare wing and walked into Mr. Schroeder’s
room. Amy stood near his bed, her husband, and kid occupying the only chairs in
the room. I forgot about them being with her.

     “Sunny!”
Mr. Harper said grinning.

     “Hi,
Mr. Harper,” I said, trying to avoid Amy Foster’s stare. “Just thought I’d stop
in and chat. I’m seeing Lloyd tonight.”

     “Smart
boy,” he smiled. “Where’s he taking you? Somewhere nice I hope.”

     “A
Mexican restaurant that he likes. Do you know the one?” I chanced a glance at
Amy and saw her unscrew the cap on an orange juice bottle.

     “No.
Can’t handle that spicy food anymore.”

     “I
suppose not. Do you mind if I use your phone for a second?”

     “Go
ahead, the calls are free,” he said.

      I
picked up the phone and dialed zero. When Shantel came on, I whispered for her
to page Donna overhead and I hung up.

     “Donna
Dombrowski, line one. Donna Dombrowski, line one.”

     Everyone
in the room ignored the page excluding me. Five seconds later, Donna popped in.
She nervously glanced at me, and then the bag in my hand.

     “Mrs.
Foster, sorry to bother you, but I need you to sign a form,” Donna said
wringing her hands.

     “What
kind of form? I signed a huge stack when I admitted him. Didn’t I, Karl?”

     Karl
nodded and returned to playing with a loose piece of material on his worn
sneaker.

     “This
is a new form. It’s to decline or accept services from our hair stylist. She
comes in every Tuesday and Thursday and provides haircuts, shaves, and
manicures.”

     “Look
at my dad. He’s losing his hair. Why would I pay for a haircut?”

     “Then
you need to sign the form to decline the service,” insisted Donna.