Maddy's Floor (6 page)

"Maybe it has." She leaned back in her chair, relieved to have reached him. "Dr. Lenning transferred in this morning."

He chuckled. "So the pain in the ass is there, is he? I have to admit, I hoped he'd change his mind at the last minute." Paul coughed and cleared his throat.

Maddy waited until he was quiet. "No, he's here and would like to see his doctor."

"Par for the course. Well, buck up. This is one we have to have whether we like it or not."

She knew and understood that. But she still wanted him in to deal with the new patient. "That's why I'm calling you. When are you coming in?"

"I'm still going to be another hour here, so do me a favor. Give him the welcome speech, or the warning speech in his case, and tell him I'll be there soon to go over his medical information and current treatment. You have to face him sometime and this way he can't fault you for your lack of professionalism. I promise I'll be over soon."

And that was as good as it was going to get.

Maddy closed the binder on her desk, and stood. She'd grab a coffee, put on her most professional smile and be civil. She could do this. She had to. Maintaining the healing balance on her floor depended on it.

***

John shifted positions, hating the throb that raced down the outside of his right leg. Damn useless body. Piling the sheet at his waist, he shifted his cell phone so he'd hear better.

"Gerard, I want to confirm that my transfer's gone through." John strained to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone. "Wanted to say thanks. I've been waiting to get onto Maddy's floor for a while now, but it's not like beds open up there. Good thing that new wing was being developed. And that I donated to it, huh?" He laughed until a cough caught him out. "Damn chest. Can't stand all this coughing."

He reached for his glasses atop the small bedside table. "Speak up, boy. I know you're busy, however I want to know when the transfer will happen. I've waited all morning for news, and nary a peep out of your people. Haven't got all year, you know." He chuckled at his own joke as he pulled his day planner to his side.

"I gather Drew spoke with you."

"Yup, he did. Now I've got my calendar out. So when can we make this happen? I have lab tests this morning…the dietician's coming midafternoon – I'm happy to miss her. Lord, if I have any more fiber in my cereal I'm going to start to moo with the damn cows. I know there are a couple of other appointments here somewhere. Give me a minute…" He studied the handwritten notes that kept his daily activities organized. What a pitiful way to live. He knew the ward clerk kept it all straight, but he needed to keep track of it himself. A matter of pride. He wasn't that decrepit.

"What's that?" He'd missed Gerard's last comment. Damn the man, why wouldn't he speak up? Christ, the guy was big yet had the voice of a woman. He was probably a damn fairy; wouldn't surprise him, knowing his mother and the antics she'd been up to way back when. In his day, that wasn't talked about, but now, Christ, these men wore pink shirts to advertise the fact. What the hell was happening to the world?

"The logistics of the move aren't your concern. We have people who will take care of that. But I don't have the room assignments sorted out yet."

"Yeah, whatever. I don't really care about that. It'd be nice to look out over the back woods, though. I'd like a spot of nature to remind me of better days. Didn't I hear something about balconies in some of those rooms?" He rubbed his grizzled chin. "That'd be mighty fine."

Gerard sighed. A deep, long-suffering sigh that made John roll his eyes. "I know. However, the balconies are designed to be for everyone, as are the sitting rooms. There aren't closed bedrooms John. There's privacy, only not the same as four walls and a door would provide." He hastily backed up. "That's
if
you're getting onto Maddy's floor."

"What?" John roared. "Of course I am. You said so yourself. What are you trying to pull here?"

"John, I said your transfer to The Haven had been approved. I didn't say you were guaranteed a spot on Maddy's floor."

Panicked, John's face burned, his heart slammed inside his chest and it was all he could do to catch the next breath – the fear was so bad. He had to get onto that floor. It was his only chance. "Don't play games with me, Gerard. Maddy's floor
is
The Haven and that's the only place I want to be."

"I can't just give one to you without going over all applications and making an unbiased decision, John. The beds are at a premium. More than that, there are strict requirements to gain entrance to the third floor. Requirements you don't necessarily fit. We have a stringent interview and selection process, for that reason."

Unbridled anger rose in John's chest at Gerard's words. His left hand pressed against the sudden constriction as he tried to breathe. The bloody bastard. "Why you little prick! This has nothing to do with the entrance requirements – this is all about money, isn't it? You want more to place me on Maddy's Floor. Haven't I paid enough? Or maybe it's you who hasn't paid enough. I thought we'd put the past behind us, but if you don't get me onto Maddy's Floor, the past is going to rear its ugly head and bite you in the ass."

Silence.

In an odd voice, Gerard asked, "Are you blackmailing me?"

"Hell, no. Nor am I threatening you. This is a goddamn promise." This couldn't happen, not now. He had so little time left. With so much panic surging through him, he almost dropped the cell phone. His breath came out in anguished gasps. "Don't you understand? I
have
to be on Maddy's Floor," he cried. "What makes someone else more important?"

"Well, for one, they've been waiting much longer than you. Some of the other patients have been waiting for over a year now. From their perspective, you should be on a lower floor and they should move up one at a time. You have to understand, John. I don't have a few applications, I have several hundred. Not everyone will qualify, but we have to consider them."

John sank back down into his wrinkled bed, tears welling up at the corner of his eyes. Not fair. So close and yet so far. He pulled up the corner of his sheet and wiped his eyes. Giving himself a hard mental shake, he tried to see the situation clearly. He understood that requirements had to be met, a set of criteria had to be established and followed. He knew that for these twelve beds to be filled, hundreds had to be rejected. He was a lawman. He understood justice. He'd played fair and square all his life …and he'd bent the rules just once.

Now he needed the beneficiary of that one slip to bend the rules for him.

Gerard's voice turned brusque. "Listen, John, I know we go way back. I'll take another look and see what I can do."

John didn't dare speak. Sixty-six-year-old men didn't cry. Shit, real men didn't cry. He was being a wuss. He could blackmail the bastard into getting what he wanted. However, he also had money. Maybe he should sweeten the pot. Sniffling hard and coughing as if to clear his throat, John said, "Let me know if there is any equipment you're short of down there. I might be able to help."

There was silence for a moment before Gerard answered. "Will do. Give me a day or two to check some figures. Then I'll get back to you."

"A day or two is fine. Don't wait too long."

The meaning was clear. John meant to get what he wanted. And he'd pay his way if he must, but get it he would. One way or another.

***

Gerard stared across his large executive office. His gaze landed on the huge oil painting on the far wall. He didn't bother to bring it into focus. What was he going to do now?

He didn't have much choice with the bed assignment issues. And in this case, he was good with that. Still, wouldn't it be nice if people took to their beds and were happy? But no, just like little children with desk assignments in school, everyone thought having a bed somewhere else – in some cases, anywhere else – would be better.

The hospital policy stated they were not to cater to the petty demands of patients and doctors. Fat chance of following that policy to the letter. Still, if making minor changes appeased the parties involved, then The Haven tried to accommodate all reasonable requests.

Then there was the problem of John's thinly veiled blackmail threat. He shuddered. However, if John were willing to pay a little more, then he'd pass his application through the Board no problem. With the budget shortfall they were currently experiencing, anyone who could pay would pay, whether the Board liked the system or not. This wasn't the time to raise the moral issues of better care for the wealthy. The doctors on the other floors were extremely capable. The Haven was known for the quality of care for all patients, not just those on Maddy's floor.

Damn that man anyway. The same persistence that had made him a hell of a cop made him a hell of a lousy patient. Choices were limited. Bills had to be paid and patients needed care. Yada, yada, yada. That Maddy wouldn't be happy over this decision was a given. What choice did he have? He hoped John's life expectancy was incorrect, because that would be a sticking point. But if he did get John there without her knowing about it, then she'd find a way to make it work, she always did. Manipulative? Yes.

Desperate? Oh yes.

Well, there was no point in waiting. Grabbing up the correct application file from the top of his overflowing in basket, he picked up the desk phone. "John, I have good news for you."

***

John ended his call and immediately placed a second one. His emotions were still on a roller coaster. "Drew, I got onto Maddy's floor. It took a bit of finagling, but I did it."

"Wow," Drew's tired voice perked up.

That damn kid worked too hard. He'd have made a hell of a police chief.

"That's great news. Did he give you a date yet?"

"Nope. They have to finish the rest of the wing. I told him I'd move in with exposed lumber as long I made it out of here, but he just laughed and said it wasn't that bad. Apparently they've moved one new patient in already, however, the rest of the medical equipment and supplies will take a day or two."

Drew said, "Please tell me you didn't offer to pay for equipment…"

John's smile beamed across the room at the three other patients shamelessly listening in on his call. "What's the point of having money if it doesn't help you?"

Drew was silent for a moment. "I think that's called bribery."

"Bribery, smibery. Who cares what it's called as long as it works? Gerard needs donations and I need a bed. That's called a
trade
." He wanted to get up and dance around the room. This was going to work. He just knew the famous Dr. Maddy would fix him.

"Hmmm. At least I'll be able to see both you and Aunt Doris at the same time."

John coughed. "That's the best part. I'm getting on Dr. Maddy's floor, but I doubt she is. She's going to be pissed."

"You have the money,
trade
her way up there, too."

What? Like hell.
John couldn't help the harrumph that slid out. "She can pay her own damn way. Christ, the sibling bond doesn't stretch that far. Especially a step-sibling. She's a pain in the ass with all her ordering about. Do you think I want to listen to that to the end of my days? Like hell." He shifted in his bed, pulling the blankets up higher on his shoulders. This damn place was either cold or hot. There never seemed to be a happy medium. Cheap buggers, all of them. All they ever wanted was money.

Well, he'd spend his the way he wanted to. And he'd leave it to whomever he wanted and that person sure as hell wasn't his stepsister. He winced as his guilty conscience poked him. "Besides, look at her mental deterioration. It's not like she'd appreciate the difference in the floors. Why waste the money?"

Drew's long-suffering sigh, the one John had heard a million times before, sounded through the phone. "Whatever makes you happy. You do know you can't take it with you?"

"Hell, I know that. Otherwise I'd have kicked off and taken it with me years ago, before this old body decided to break down. Now I'll spend it when I want to and how I want to. Have to go. The dinner cart is coming."

John hung up on his nephew. Damn do-gooder. How the hell had Drew gotten so strong on family? Besides Doris wasn't really family. And she'd spent all her money on her loose lifestyle. Why should he pay for her care now? Drew was the only one worth helping, but if Drew kept bugging John to be nice to Doris, Drew wasn't going to get anything.

Just like Doris.

***

Drew put away his cell. Why the hell couldn't those two get along? Didn't he have enough trouble on his hands without running interference between his aunt and his uncle? Jesus. For two bedridden people they caused a pack of trouble. Like he needed that, today of all days – his first day on his new job.

He stood in the doorway and surveyed his new space as part of the Cold Case Squad office space. He'd visited before, but now this was
his
office. The large open room featured windows down one long wall that opened out to the back parking lot. Bulletin and white boards filled the other walls. Some were filled with notes and pictures and others remained empty, waiting for cases.
Stacks
of boxes, file numbers written on one end, filled the back wall. In the middle of the room were several large empty tables and two desks sat toward the back of the room. Open and friendly looking. He liked it already.