Notorious Nineteen (10 page)

Briggs closed his eyes and groaned. “Don’t do that.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. “I’ve got a good job here. I don’t want to lose it. Give me a break.”

“Aren’t you curious about Cubbin?”

“No.”

I looked past Briggs to his bulletin board. The two missing-patient pictures were still posted there.

“Who’s the other missing patient?” I asked.

He turned and looked at the picture. “Floyd Dugan. He was a boxer. Trained out of the gym on Stark Street. He got caught with a pound of heroin in his car. He said it was planted. I’m surprised you don’t recognize him.”

“Why was he here?”

“Hernia operation. I inherited a file on him.”

“Can I see it?”

“No,” Briggs said.

“I’ll scream rape and tell everyone you grabbed my boob.”

“That’s ridiculous. I can’t even
reach
your boob.” He jumped off his booster seat and went to the file cabinet behind his desk. “In the past three years this hospital has had four people go AWOL in the middle of the night. No one seems to think that’s unusual. Turns out people don’t like being here.” He pulled four files and handed them over to me. “Read them fast. They’re supposed to be confidential.”

I flipped through Geoffrey Cubbin and Floyd Dugan. Both men had been accused of crimes and released on a bail bond. They got sick while they were bonded out, went to the hospital, and were never seen again. Didn’t show up for court. Never returned home, made any credit card charges, or withdrew money from a bank account. Craig Fish was their surgeon.

The third guy was a homeless man who was hit by a car, kept overnight for observation, and disappeared before day-break.

Willie Hernandez disappeared hours after having a kidney stone removed. He’d been arrested for domestic violence and was awaiting trial. And he was in the country illegally. Craig Fish was the surgeon.

“They all had a reason to disappear,” I said. “And three out of the four were operated on by Dr. Fish.”

“You’ve heard of lawyers chasing ambulances? He’s the medical equivalent. Behind his back they call him ‘Dr. Stalk’ and ‘Slash.’ And it’s rumored he isn’t above removing a healthy appendix if business is slow.”

“I met him. He seemed nice.”

“Who said he wasn’t nice? Everyone loves him. He’s just a little aggressive about acquiring patients.”

I gave the files back to Briggs. “Thanks for letting me see these. They’re all open cases, right?”

“Right.”

“And no one ever figured out how the patients left the hospital?”

“No. I don’t think anyone cares a lot. They’re gone. End of story.”

“It’s weird.”

“It could be ingenious. Someone’s in the hospital, and he’s in trouble. He wants to disappear. And some sympathetic nurse or orderly is happy to make it happen for a price.”

“What about the homeless guy?”

“I don’t know about the homeless guy. He doesn’t fit my profile.”

“So we might have a theory on how three out of the four got help disappearing, but that doesn’t explain why none of these people got caught on a security camera when they left.”

“I looked at the tapes. I even looked to see if Cubbin could have been disguised as a nurse, but I didn’t see anything.”

“Did you look at any of the other tapes?”

“They aren’t available. The hospital only keeps the tapes for six months.”

I stood and turned to go. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it. And I mean
don’t mention it
. I’ll swear on a Bible I never showed you the files. In fact, I never even
talked
to you. You weren’t here.”

“Understood.”

I left Briggs and took the elevator to the fourth floor. I walked past the nurses’ station and slowly made my way down the hall, glancing into the rooms. They were standard semi-private hospital rooms. Privacy curtains, a chair for each bed, hospital tray tables. Painted a bilious green and tan. Many of the rooms had only one patient.

“This must be a slow time of the year for you,” I said to an aide. “A lot of the rooms are only half full.”

“This is the surgery floor, and most people get sent home same day or next day. It’s too expensive to stay longer. Years ago when the hospital was built people stayed a week or two after surgery.”

“Were you here when Geoffrey Cubbin disappeared? I read about it in the paper. I guess he decided to leave early.”

“He was gone when I came in that morning. Everyone was scratching their head wondering where he could be. No one saw him leave. I guess he didn’t want to stand trial.”

“Did he have a roomie when he was here?”

She thought for a moment. “No.”

I traveled the length of the hall, retraced my steps, and went back to the nurses’ station. “Is this the only elevator?” I asked the aide.

“There’s a service elevator, but it’s not available to visitors,” she said.

I went back to Randy Briggs.

“Jeez,” he said. “I thought you left.”

“I have another question. Is it possible Cubbin left via the service elevator?”

“No. I would have seen him from the hall video. It has a clear shot of the service elevator.”

“Damn.”

“Tell me about it. I’m on the job for two months and some idiot disappears. Lucky for me no one seems to care. Except for you. You’re a real pain in the ass.”

I gave him the finger.

“Nice,” he said. “Very classy.”

I left the hospital and drove back to the office.

“I want to talk to Cubbin’s night nurse,” I told Connie. “Her name is Norma Kruger. Can you get me some information on her?”

Connie typed the name into one of her search programs and the information started to pour in. She hit
PRINT
and in thirty seconds I had a two-page bio.

“Divorced, no children, thirty-four years old, owns a condo in a building not far from the hospital. Everything else is blah, blah, blah. No litigation or derogatory comments. I don’t see a mortgage or car loan.”

“Looks like she pays cash,” Connie said.

“How does she do that on a nurse’s salary?”

Connie shrugged. “Good divorce settlement?”

“And there’s talk she does some recreational substance abuse.”

“She might have something going on the side,” Connie said. “Maybe she gives a really good sponge bath, and she gets tips.”

“Maybe the sponge baths are so good Cubbin followed her home and never left.”

“That would be convenient.” Connie squinted in the direction of the large plate glass window at the front of the office. “I think someone’s trying to break into your car.”

I swiveled my head and followed Connie’s line of vision. Sure enough, Brody Logan was at work with a crowbar.

“It’s Logan,” I said, on the move. “He wants Tiki.”

I burst out the door, swung my messenger bag, and caught Logan on the side of the head. The crowbar flew out of his hand, and he staggered sideways. I lunged for him, but he jumped away and took off. I didn’t bother chasing him. I knew I couldn’t catch him.

“He’s fast,” Connie said. “Next time you need to zap him.”

Connie went back into the office, and I looked the car door over for crowbar damage.

Ranger parked behind me and walked over. “What’s going on?”

“Someone tried to break into the Buick.”

“The Buick is enchanted,” Ranger said. “It’s impervious to damage and breaking and entering. Why would someone want to steal it?”

“It’s a classic.”

“Besides that.”

“He was after the tiki in the backseat. It’s sort of his.”

“I have good news and bad news,” Ranger said. “What do you want to hear first?”

“The good news.”

“Actually I lied about the good news. It’s all bad. Kinsey got another message. This time it was written on his living room wall. He found it when he came home from the hospital.”

“You didn’t get one?”

“No. I feel neglected.”

“It would be hard to get to your living room,” I said. “Being that it’s in a building more secure than the Pentagon.”

“You managed to get in.”

“You allowed me in.”

Ranger smiled. “I don’t have a lot of fun. I can’t afford to waste an opportunity.”

“You threatened to throw me out the window!”

“I was playing.”

“You weren’t playing when you got in bed next to me.”

“No,” he said. “The play ended.”

We considered that for a moment, and I thought it best to move on.

“Is there more bad news?” I asked him.

“Kinsey and his fiancée are worried the wedding has a bull’s-eye on it.”

“Good thought. I’d be worried too.”

“Glad you understand the problem, because they want to replace one of the bridesmaids with you. They thought it was a good idea to have someone undercover, close to the bride.”

“No. No, no, no. I don’t want to be a bridesmaid. Been there, done that. I’ll have to wear some awful dress, and it won’t fit me. And I’ll have to do that stupid step, stop, step, stop all the way down the church aisle. And there’s the rehearsal dinner.”

“You’ll be on the payroll,” Ranger said.

“You couldn’t pay me enough.”

“Babe, everyone has a price.”

I locked eyes with him. “What about you? Do you get to be a bridesmaid too?”

“I’m the best man.”

I was momentarily speechless. “Were you always the best man?”

“Yes.”

“Holy cats.”

“Can we get serious? Get past the deal with the dress? Kinsey has asked me to help with security for the wedding. As a professional I agree that it would be a smart move to include you in the bridal party. As someone who is very fond of you and has already gotten you poisoned, I’m not entirely excited about the idea. If you feel uncomfortable doing this for reasons that go beyond the dress I’ll understand. Whether or not you take this assignment has to be your choice.”

“If I get poisoned again I want a bonus.”

“Deal. The wedding is next Saturday.” He handed me a card. “The dress will need to be fitted. Here’s the address of the bridal salon. Sooner would be better than later.”

A text message came in on his phone, he turned on his heel, got into his Porsche, and drove off.

I looked at Tiki in the backseat. “Do
not
say
anything
.”

I shoved the card into my back pocket and drove to Norma Kruger’s condo complex. The two-story faux Colonial buildings were originally designed as apartment units. The buildings had been converted to condos when mortgage money was easy to get, and now in a more difficult economy I was guessing a lot of the units were being rented out. From what I could tell each unit had two parking spaces assigned by house number. Most of the spaces were empty. This was a complex of young professionals who were working at this time of day. Except for Norma Kruger, who worked the night shift. A red Jaguar convertible occupied Norma’s parking space. I pulled in next to the Jag and cut the engine. I walked to the door and rang the bell.

Norma Kruger answered with a raised eyebrow. Not overjoyed to see me. Suspicious of my intent. Possibly I looked like I was selling religion door-to-door.

“What?” she asked.

“I’d like to talk to you about Geoffrey Cubbin.”

“Are you a cop?”

“Bond enforcement.”

She gave a bark of laughter. “You mean like Dog the Bounty Hunter? Aren’t you supposed to be decked out in leather?”

“We don’t all dress like Dog,” I said.

“How disappointing.”

Norma Kruger was pretty in a hard-as-nails dominatrix kind of way. She had shoulder-length very blond hair, parted in the middle, tortured into waves, tucked behind her ears. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and she obviously didn’t need a bra to keep her boobs in perfect position and looking perky.

“I’m told you were the night nurse on duty when Cubbin disappeared.”

“Is this going somewhere?”

“I’m trying to get a grip on how he got out of the hospital.”

“You and everyone else. All I know is I saw him at two
A.M.
and he was gone at six
A.M.
”

“Did you talk to him when you saw him at two?”

“No. He was sleeping. I didn’t wake him.”

“People don’t just disappear into thin air,” I said. “How many people were working on that floor between two and six?”

“Two nurses. Julie Marconni was with me. She was working the other side of the hall.”

“And she didn’t see anything either.”

“Nope.”

“I understand Cubbin was Craig Fish’s patient.”

“Almost everyone is Dr. Fish’s patient. He keeps busy.”

“Is he a good doctor?”

“He hasn’t personally operated on me, but I’m told he’s excellent.”

I gave Norma my card. “If you think of anything that might be helpful I’d appreciate a call.”

“Sure.”

I returned to the Buick and rolled out of the condo complex.

“That was supremely unhelpful,” I said to Tiki. “She told me nothing new. And I didn’t get any special vibes from her on Craig Fish. This is getting discouraging.”

Tiki had no words of wisdom, so I thought I might find inspiration in a bottle of wine. Or even better I could stop at Mexicana Grill on the way home and have a margarita. Free up the old brain cells, right?

Halfway through the margarita I was thinking a second margarita would be great. And I actually was feeling a little amorous, so I called Morelli.

“Hi there, hot stuff,” I said. “I’m in a bar and I want to get you naked.”

“Exactly how many drinks have you had?”

“One. And one more on the way. And I’m going to order nachos, which I’ll share if you let me see your underwear.”

“How could I pass up a deal like that? Where are you?”

“Mexicana Grill.”

Ten minutes later Morelli pulled up next to me and snitched some of my nachos.

“Hey,” I said, “you can’t have any of those until I get a look.”

Morelli grinned at me. “You’re trashed.”

“It’s all Tiki’s fault. He told me to do this.”

“Who’s Tiki?”

“He’s a sacred carving from Hawaii. It’s a long story.”

“And Tiki told you to stop at a bar and get trashed?”

“Yes! He made it sound like a good idea.”

Morelli paid my tab, wrapped an arm around me, and hauled me off my bar stool. “Where’s Tiki now?”