Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 03 - The Recorder's Way (7 page)

The room smel
led of mildew and chocolate. The only light was a goose necked lamp on the bed. Marilyn’s clothing gave away her size. “Big woman?” Max stated. “Under thirty?”

“You are good at this.” Sister Alice
actually cooed.

Among Marilyn’s few belongings was
a diet journal with scribbling in all the margins. Helen sat down on the squeaking bed to examine the book. A flea jumped onto Helen’s arm. Helen leapt up. “Fleas,” she cried.

Sister Alice
screamed. “The dog must have slept in here sometimes. Marilyn said he laid down in the hall each night. Mother Superior will have a fit. Marilyn complained the food was giving her boils but I bet they were flea bites.”

As the three of them stood in the hall, Max cran
ed his neck to look over Helen’s shoulder at the diet journal. “What are those, drawing in the margins?”

“That’s Gregg shorthand,” Sister Alice said.
“My mother wanted me to be a secretary. I bet Marilyn’s mother wanted her to be a stenographer, too.” Max cocked his head to indicate he didn’t understand her ramblings about mothers. “…So Marilyn became a nurse. You know,” Sister Alice said. “Like I became a nun.” “Daughters often go against their mothers’ wishes,” Helen said.

“Is that right?”
Max winked at her.

They had
found no other reading material. Every available corner of the dresser and bookshelves had been stuffed with food. Tupperware packaged cookies and potato chips, tin cans filled with licorice and chocolates crammed the room.

Helen asked,
“How long was Marilyn supposed to work here?”

“One month, 150 hours. For a five
-hour day. She loved the grounds. Marilyn was always off somewhere with Rufus. We have a labyrinth, you know.” Sister Alice chatted away as if talking didn’t need an audience. “They were originally made to substitute for pilgrimages to Jerusalem. You know.” Max nodded. “You know about the Holy City and the Crusaders?” Sister Alice duly regarded Max. “You’re terrific.”

Playing Tom Terrific to the hilt,
Max winked at his crusader rabbit, Helen.

He
len understood why Marilyn took her first opportunity to escape the convent’s boredom. She probably car-jacked Sally Bianco as soon as they were far enough away from the convent.

“
Sally Bianco probably didn’t have a chance against a very large drug-addict,” Max said. “One, who obviously needed a fix.”

Helen
called her father on her cell phone. “Better give the police Sally’s license number. I think she’s in trouble.”

“…plagues upon thy heart, a pestilence…”

The Egyptian Plagues

First Wednesday in May, 2008

St. Anthony
’s Hospital

The basement of the
St. Anthony Hospital was a maze of identical corridors to Helen. Was Max ready to give up.

“Let’s call the records room from The Firm,” he said. “We can ask for the
files to be delivered.”

Helen shook her head. “You’re more effective in person.”

She watched as Max let his vanity assess the compliment. “You should know.”

The truth was she wanted to keep Max interested in the
agency long enough to convince him she was the only woman necessary in his life. She stopped every second person in the sterile halls to ask directions to the file room. Eventually, they found the small reception area for seekers of patient files.

The
basement room’s walls were covered with cheerful prints by Gauguin. A horizontally placed mirror over the sliding window of the receptionist’s desk let Max adjust his smile. Helen squinted to read the file clerk’s name as she showed The Firm’s credentials. “Sharon, could we wait until you find the medical records for Larry Schneider?”

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“Did you pack a lunch?” Sharon Daley crowed. Sharon thought her filing job was demeaning compared to her nursing career. If the doctors weren’t lording it over you, some patient with a beef was willing to let you work all night to find a relevant file. Everyone wanted you to believe you would share in the financial rewards from damage settlements. Of course, Sharon was required to first produce enough facts to prosecute incompetent fools, like those with framed degrees littering their office walls. At least as a file clerk, there were no unpleasant bedpans to empty unlike her loftier years as a registered nurse.

Sharon
re-read the request form. “The names of all patients who died between the time the University of Michigan consultants were terminated in 1990 and then reinstated.” She knew the names too well.

Larry Schneider, t
he little boy, was the hardest death to witness. Her friend, Marilyn, went crazy because of it. Stupid drug addict. Sharon hadn’t heard from her since her latest arrest. If the doctors hadn’t been so ready to pay up to keep her quiet, Marilyn wouldn’t have been able to afford her prescription drug habit.

Sharon
scrutinized the couple in the waiting room. Helen Costello wore a pretty blue sweater. The big guy had flashed some sort of detective badge before they made themselves comfortable in the waiting room.

“Who started the investigation?”
Sharon handed over the boy’s file.

“I’m not at liber
ty to say.” The curly-headed chick grabbed onto one end of the folder.

“If you tell me,
” Sharon promised, “I’ll give you the name of a nurse I worked with on all three cases.”

“
Sally Bianco came up with the case,” Max said, “during a retreat in Adrian with the same name as this hospital, St. Anthony.”

Sharon caught her breath.
“St. Anthony is the patron saint of lost people and things.” Was she speaking to a friend or foe of Marilyn’s. “My friend. Well we’re not friends anymore, according to her. Anyway Marilyn Helms was doing community service in Adrian. She was arrested with too many prescription drugs in her car. They thought she was a drug pusher, which wasn’t true. She needed every pill for herself. I told her lawyer, but he wouldn’t let me take the stand. I’m sure Marilyn thought I didn’t try hard enough to get her off. She did need help. I was hoping she would be put in a recovery center. She had worked off and on in Ann Arbor with the doctors involved in the cases. They supplied the prescriptions for her elephant of a drug habit.” Sharon thought she might cry. “Looked pretty much like one, too.”

Helen offered her a tissue from the desk.
“Maybe Marilyn told Sally Bianco about the deaths in 1990.”

“No.”
Sharon didn’t think Marilyn would be that stupid. “I don’t think so.”

♦
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First Wednesday in May
, 2008

The Firm

Max opened the door for Helen who ran into the back room. “We found one file at St. Anthony’s Hospital.”

Andrew
held out his hand for the file as he smiled. “Now that’s a good day’s work, isn’t it, Max?”

“
What did the police say when you reported Sally as missing?” Max put his hand on Helen’s shoulder.

Andrew reached for the phone, rested his hand on the handset. “I
gave them her license number, RDS WAY.” He shook his head. “They were more interested in decoding the plate’s meaning than the fact that she could be missing.”

“The Recorder’s Way,” Max said.
Sally Bianco wasn’t one of Max’s favorite people, kind of preachy and cold at the same time; but he didn’t want any harm to come to her on his watch. “Do they know she was investigating a case for us?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Not much of a case, so far. I told them we all thought she’d been the victim of a car-jacking.”

“Captain Tedler was surely upset.” Helen put her arm around her dad.

Max apologized. “Sorry, Andrew. I know you and Mrs. Costello are friends of
Sally Bianco.”

Andrew nodded unable to speak for a moment. “Let’s look at the file.”

“The file clerk, Sharon Daley, says a Marilyn Helms worked with her on the cases.” Helen pointed to Marilyn’s name in the file. “Larry Schneider was only a boy when he died in the emergency room.”

Max tugged on his curls. “I think the same Marilyn was doing community service at the convent.
Sally invited her for a drive in Waterloo, according to the Mother Superior. They’re both missing, now.”

Helen said. “The
nurses were both fired after the three deaths.”

“Nurses don’t hurt people, Andrew.” Max wasn’t
as sure of his statement as he wanted to be but he wanted to relieve Andrew from any unnecessary worry.”

“I’ve got to see
Tedler,” Andrew said.

H
elen took a step toward Max as her father left. She slipped her arm around his waist. He knew she needed something or someone to hold onto. as if they were playing tag and Max was home base.

“We shouldn’t get involved
, with each other?” Max disengaged himself and sorted through the file Andrew had abandoned. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions about Sally either. Larry Schneider,” he read. “Spinal meningitis was the cause of death?”

“
Sharon said University of Michigan consultants were let go during a budget crisis at St. Anthony’s Hospital.”

“A
Dr. Benjamin Handler signed the death certificate?”

“After the
patients died, the doctors were reinstated.” Helen’s professionalism returned.

“In t
ime to ward off any damage suits to the hospital?” Max asked.

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In the car,
Andrew Costello rubbed his bum thigh. Whenever he needed to think, his leg acted up almost demanding his attention to painful subjects. He didn’t want to talk to Tedler or Julia. He wanted to think. Helen and Max were no longer just friends. They were falling in love. He liked Max. The self-doubt Max exhibited reassured Andrew. The man owned a reflective soul. But was Helen, his daughter, his baby mature enough for marriage and children? Those dollhouses of hers, no one would want to marry a child. Raising one of your own was fine, but marriage required a mature mate.

Julia was such a treasure now. He felt his wife was showing him new aspects of her personality, more to love. The secret of Helen’s birth father must have dogged every one of her steps, censured every thought.
The deception had been a plaque on her heart. The truth had set her free of the pestilence. She no longer needed to place every fork directly on top of the next. She finally agreed after twenty-one years his tee shirts did not need to be ironed. The living room could appear lived in and they could afford to eat at restaurants as often as she liked. Their lovemaking was becoming a little more exploratory, healthy. Andrew smiled. He wondered if he should talk to Julia about Max and their daughter. So much was happening; maybe he’d wait until Julia came to him about their romance from her point of view. He’d try to act surprised.

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The Day of the Crime,
First Sunday in May, 2008

Portage Lake

Marilyn Helms walked her dog down to the boat ramp. His muzzle and fur were drenched in red. Finding several sticks, Marilyn threw them one at a time into Portage Lake until Rufus was immaculate. “Good dog,” she said. “Time to go.”

The Honda waited for them. The weather was beautiful. Rufus needed a long walk to calm him down from his little adventure. Marilyn re-attached the leash but let it run all the way out. She didn’t feel like patting his ears. She would drive to
Brighton for lunch, and keep going east. Easterners were easy to con. Once she was settled with her grandmother in Cape May, she could always phone Dr. Handler and Dr. Whidbey. They’d probably congratulate her for moving away.

She could start clean…free of her drug habit.
Three weeks wasn’t much sobriety, but maybe she wouldn’t call the doctors. Penance enough for what? Maybe
not
for letting Rufus attack the old woman. What did the program say? First things first. First, Marilyn needed to survive.

That old hag would have seen her in prison quicker than jack snap for blackmailing the doctors. If she stayed clean, she wouldn’t need to call the doctors for drug money. In addition, the long drive out east might slim her down enough not to need her perfect diet pills.

Rufus would be a problem. Marilyn called him and undid the leash. To let him know he could leave, she threw another stick into a fern covered ravine. Rufus bounded off. Marilyn wished she could feel as happy about her freedom.

As she started Sally’s car, her mouth tasted bitter. The May-apple leaves were making her
feel sick. She reached for the half-empty bag of potato chips. As she sped up, Marilyn noticed Rufus in the rear-view mirror. He was standing in the middle of Seymour Road, with the stick she had thrown in his mouth. She didn’t slow down, but it was comforting to think maybe the dog hadn’t been a parasite after all. Maybe he had liked her, a little.

If Rufus was in the passenger seat, she would have told him whenever her collections exceeded her drug habit, she bought gold necklaces.
They, the necklaces, were never around her neck for longer than two months. Something always set off a binge with its requirement to increase her stash of pills by hocking the gold.

Th
e stupid policeman Rufus had jumped thought she sold pills. Idiot. She needed each one of the blamed things or would before she reached her ideal weight. She couldn’t remember anymore what it used to be. Once 130, 150. At the rate she was going, 160 seemed her next reachable goal. The only reason she wasn’t in jail was because Dr. Handler could out talk any buzzard of a cop or judge. He should have been a lawyer instead of a doctor. Wasn’t much of a doctor anyway…and that was the truth!

When she first met
Dr. Handler, he was always trying to impress her with some outlandish extravagance. Oh, they were never gifts for her. A cap from Scotland for himself, a sweater from Ireland, shoes from Italy. She kept track of the doctor’s excesses in her diet book. Who gave a rat’s ass? She didn’t, as long as she got her share of his string of rich wives’ money. The whole scam was a hoot, until she got stopped. Now she needed her grandmother’s out-of-state pad to crash in.

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First Thursday
in May, 2008

The Firm

When Max first heard the knock on his office door, he thought Helen might want to persuade him to have Dr. Handler arrested. Max was still of the opinion they should wait until all three doctors’ whereabouts were known. He didn’t want any of the medical men to circumvent justice by fleeing the country. Instead, Andrew was at the door with Helen standing behind him. “What now?” Max asked. Andrew’s face was all wrong. Max tried to lighten the mood. “Who died?”

“Sally.” Helen spoke behind her father.

Max stood up. “Sorry. How do you know?”

Andrew
collapsed into one of the client chairs. “A Waterloo ranger found her body.”

“
Should we go out there?” Max offered his arm to Helen, to help her into the other chair. Civilians were not accustomed to sudden death. As a veteran, Max’s stoicism was won at a terrible cost. The sight of friends dropping dead in their tracks – right next to him, gained him a measure of detachment. His bout of post-traumatic stress disorder was not as severe as other veterans’ cases because of the violent history of his parents’ death.