Deadly Dosage (6 page)

     “The doctor is releasing me. Why can’t I go
home?” he said in desperation.

     “That doctor is a quack. You’re sick. If this
home won’t keep you, we’re dump…I mean taking you somewhere else.” She stated
it vehemently. “Isn’t that right, Karl?”

     Karl nodded absently. He seemed more interested
in the legs of the nurse aide across the hall.

     I saw a tear escape Mr. Schroeder’s eye. I had to
help him somehow.

     “Hello,” I addressed the couple, walking into the
room. “I’m Summer Kramer, the bookkeeper.”

     “Whadda you want?” she stated angrily. “More of
his money?”

     “Medicare is covering the cost of his stay,” I
stated accurately.

     “Yeah, but it didn’t pay for those damn oxygen
treatments.” Her husband sunk into a nearby chair and the child jumped in his
lap and tugged on his ear.

     I ignored her. “How are you feeling, Mr.
Schroeder? I brought in some of those candy raisins your roommate said you
like. The nurse said it was okay for you to eat them. I’ll bring them by
later.”

     He smiled slightly and was about to answer when
she pushed past me.

     “Come, Karl, we’re wasting our time here.” She
turned. “Dad, finish that juice before we leave.” She waited impatiently.

     He looked helplessly at me, picked up the bottle
with a shaky hand, and downed the juice. He wiped his mouth with the back of
his sleeve. “All gone,” he said.

     “Good,” she said. She grabbed the irritating
little boy and stormed out of the room with her husband trailing behind her.

     I was at a loss for words. I picked Mr. Harper’s
cards off the floor and arranged them how they were originally positioned on
his bedside table. He mumbled thanks, and I patted his hand in a friendly
gesture. “It’s okay. They can’t make you leave here. She doesn’t have power of
attorney.” He nodded. “I have to go back to work now, try to relax.” My words
sounded inadequate but I really had a lot of work to finish, starting with
correcting the stupid census.

     By 3:30, Phyllis had left, so I checked my
personal e-mail account. Autumn and Spring wanted to know if I’d go with them
to Las Vegas to celebrate our mom’s fifty-fifth birthday. Mom always wanted to
go, and her company was giving her a free airline ticket and a free upgrade to
a suite at some of the nicer hotels. It sounded great, but I didn’t know if I
could swing it financially even with my mom’s discount. I sent a return e-mail
saying that I’d seriously consider it.

     Switching to my billing software, I looked up Mr.
Eugene Harper’s admission sheet and skimmed through the page. He listed himself
as responsible party with next of kin listed as his wife Helen. Lloyd held the
number two spot. No wife listed. This of course was inconclusive, but better
than nothing. If Donna would have shown up today, I’d have asked her if she
knew anything. Tomorrow I’d find out how much she knew about the family.

     I made some calls to insurance companies to see
if any of the claims I billed were paid. It was a boring process, so I clicked
over to surf the internet again while I listened to the automated menu
responses. I typed in ‘short skirts’ on the search line, hoping to find a cute
skirt to go with my black leggings. A page of topless women in plaid skirts
appeared on my screen. Down the hall, I heard the Phyllis approaching my
office. Panicking, I accidentally hit a key that locked up the computer. I
tried control, alt, delete and nothing happened. Minimizing the screen did not
work. She was already at my door, so I swung the screen away so it faced the
wall, just as she stepped into my office.

     “Sunny, why are you still here?” she seemed
suspicious. I never stayed late.

     “I… ah…making up time, plus a resident’s son
wanted to meet with me regarding his father’s statement.”

     “Oh. Well, I’m on my way out. Since you’re here,
make a note that Mr. Schroeder was taken to the hospital. Dizzy spells this
time. He left a few minutes ago. Check tomorrow to verify his return before you
do the morning census. Lock up before you leave.”

     “Sure.” Poor man. Surely, they would find what
was wrong with him this time.

Chapter
10

As it neared four, I grew weary about my visit with
Lloyd Harper. Exhausted and anxious, I tried to turn my concentration on Mr.
Schroeder. His illness seemed to correlate to his daughters visits. She visits.
He goes into the hospital. It was a reoccurring pattern. God knows she raised
his blood pressure; she even raised mine during our brief visit. In the morning,
I would review his medical files before my weekly rehab meeting.

     I tried turning off my computer again, with no
success. My office was a mess, so I tidied up the piles of papers on my desk.
Satisfied with the results, I left my office and went to the receptionist desk.
Shantel already had her coat was on. She was taking her sparkly orange,
designer purse out of her desk drawer as I approached her from behind.

     “Woman!” she said loudly. “You almost scared me
white.” She held her hand to her heart. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
She pulled her car keys from her purse. “Shouldn’t you be gone anyway?”

     “Mr. Harper’s son is coming in to discuss
something. Don’t know what yet.”

     “I’ve seen Mr. Harper’s son, girl, and he is
fine.” She smiled, “I’m outta here. Be good.” She left out the back entrance to
the office area, leaving me alone at the front desk.

I hated sitting at the front
desk for many reasons. This time I didn’t want any employees or family members
asking me questions. Glancing out the front doors, I saw an ambulance pull up
to the front entrance of the building. Two young men in uniformed jackets came
busting through the door with a gurney. One man spotted me and asked where he
could find Mrs. Jablonski.

     I told them the room number and made a notation
on a scrap of paper that she was leaving the building. The man nodded and
wheeled the gurney past the desk; the squeaky noise disappearing down the hall.
A few minutes later, the squeaking came back, and the gurney slipped by with
Mrs. Jablonski, covered from head to toe with a thick spread. A sigh escaped
me; another one bit the dust. My pen crossed her name off the census list taped
to the wall behind the phone and I crossed-out hospital visit on my slip of
paper and wrote expired. Death was a regular visitor to Ageless Grace, and I
had grown accustomed to it. I tried to remain business-like with the residents
for this reason; however, occasionally I found it difficult to be as detached
as I wanted to be.

     This job has its pluses and minuses, just like
any job I suppose. I like passing out the patient trust money, posting cash,
listening to crazy Mabel Zirkowski talk about her roommate Edna (who doesn’t
exist), and getting Medicaid approved for the residents who can’t afford their
care. I totally dislike trying to collect money from families, especially after
their loved one dies, which is what I’d have to do with Mrs. Jablonski’s
family. Her son-in-law agreed to handle her affairs, however as the months wore
on, it became quite obvious her money became his. Her bill was beyond
delinquent and in collections. If we saw a dime of her money, I’d be surprised.

     I was lost in my thoughts when I heard a bell
ding. I looked up and Lloyd Harper was gazing down at me with his dreamy brown
eyes. He smiled slightly and I felt myself blush. He looked even better than he
had in the restaurant. His slightly tousled, sandy brown hair had natural
golden highlights even the most expensive bleaching product could not match. He
wore his thick, wavy hair a tad longer than Sam did, slightly over his ears
with the back brushing against the collar of his jacket in a slight curl. “Hi,”
I said, a bit breathless.

“Summer Kramer, right?” he asked
rhetorically. “Ready for our meeting?”

“Yes…um…did you want to talk
in the conference room, my office is rather small?”

     “Your office is fine,” he said. “How do I get
in?”

     I rose and walked to a side door and let him in.
He stood at least a half a foot taller than I did and I couldn’t help but
admire his well-toned body. Nice butt in his tight fitting jeans. I passed him
and he followed me to my little office. I felt embarrassed. It’s nothing to
look at, somewhat dirty, and I’ve added no personal touches whatsoever, with
the exception of a small framed photo of Sam and I that was currently stuffed
away in my desk drawer. Generally, I prefer people not knowing too much about
me. This defense mechanism has served me well over the years.

When we entered my office, I
offered him my more comfortable, swivel chair but he chose the worn, blue stack
chair in front of my computer desk, a chair that I rummaged out of the basement
with the help of the maintenance man earlier in the day. I tried to cover a big
coffee stain on the floor with my foot.

     “So, what did you want to discuss?” A date, I
hoped.

     As he unzipped his ski jacket, I checked out his
hands. No wedding ring. I met his eyes with mine. He looked concerned, yet
comfortable in my presence.

“So,” he asked out of the
blue, “enjoy your margarita at Bellos Mementos?”

     “Sure, yeah,” I answered, “best I’ve had in a
while. Ever try the raspberry?”

     “Can’t say that I have.” He switched gears before
I even had time to consider flirting. “How much contact do you have with the
residents?” he asked bluntly.

     I raised my eyebrows, not sure where this was
leading. “Well, not much. I see them when they want trust fund money, if they
need to sign a check, a chance passing in the hall, or when they stop by the
front desk with a question. Why?”

     He reached over absently and turned my computer
screen, lining it up parallel to my keyboard. My eyes widened, and my hand
automatically went up to my mouth to silence the gasp that was about to escape
me. He followed my eyes to my computer.

     His eyebrows rose in question, then a grin spread
on his handsome face “It’s a no, no, to look at porn at work,” he scolded. “Do
you always do searches on topless woman?”

     “NO! No. I did an innocent search and that popped
up. Can’t seem to get rid of it.”

     He laughed and shut down my computer easily. Once
he restarted it, the image was gone. I sighed in relief. One less thing to deal
with tomorrow.

     “So, back to your question. My dad is concerned
for his roommate. I told him there’s not much he can do, but he wanted someone
to check into it.”

     “How come you don’t speak with the administrator?
This is more her area of expertise.”

     His eyes gazed at me intently and I knew I’d do
whatever he requested.

     “Dad feels comfortable with you. He says you’re
smart and he trusts you.”

     “That’s quite a compliment.” I was sincerely
moved. “What does he think is going on?”

     “You know, now that I’m here, I’m not sure if
this is really the best place to talk. Would you mind getting a bite to eat and
talking over dinner?”

I was speechless. A business
date was still a date, right? Okay, so I was stretching a bit.

     He took my silence as a ‘no’ and he began backpedaling.
“Well, if you can’t…”

     “No. Um, that’s fine. I’m done here anyway. I
just need to clock out and lock up.”

     He seemed relieved. “Great. I’m going to check in
with my dad and I’ll meet you by the front entrance.”

“Okay, see you in a bit.”
Elated, I let him out, turned off the lights, grabbed my coat and handbag, and
left out the back door. I locked up and went to punch out.

When I returned, he wasn’t at
the front door, so I slipped into the restroom to fix my lipstick and check out
my hair. I looked like someone who spent her day worrying about deadlines. Not
the greatest. By the time I finished, he was waiting for me.

“I thought we could stop at
the George Webb’s restaurant just down the road, unless you want to go
somewhere else?”

I loved Webbs. “No, that works
for me,” I said. Just the thought of food started my stomach rumbling. The
breakfast bars did little to quell my appetite.

“Did you want to take separate
cars?” I asked as we walked out the first set of doors.

“No, I’ll drive.” He opened
the second door for me and gestured to a boring, gold sedan, parked in the
entrance drive. Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger door for me and I got
in, thanking him. The interior was still warm and smelled like expensive
aftershave.

“I didn’t picture you in a
sedan,” I said casually when he was seated and his door was closed.

“Nor do I. This is my company
car. I own a 1972 Dodge Challenger. I don’t drive it during the winter.”

 We drove fifteen minutes up
the road and pulled into the parking lot. Too early for the dinner crowd, we
went in and immediately sat down at a booth. The waitress arrived before we had
our coats off and placed two plastic cups of water on the table. She
disappeared and I commented on the fast service. When she returned, Lloyd asked
me what I wanted.