Рита Браун - Claws And Effect

She reached for the papers. The bills stopped four years ago. "They've given us no notice of moving their business," Laura said.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Cramer, the last billing date on the last invoice I have is December second of last year."

"It's our letterhead," Joe said, as Coop handed him an invoice.

"It's our paper, too." Laura studied the invoices, tapping them with her forefinger. "But Joe, these aren't our numbers." She looked up at Coop and Harry. "We have our own numbering system. These fake invoices copied the numbers from four years ago, running them up sequentially. But each year I alter the numbers. It's our internal code for keeping track of business, repair cycles, and it's all in those numbers."

"It'd be a pretty easy matter to print up invoices with your logo," Harry volunteered. "Someone with a good laser printer could do it and it would be cheaper than going to a printer. Also, no records of the printing job."

"Some of those laser systems are very sophisticated," Laura said, obviously upset.

"Has there been a problem with the equipment? Is that why you're here?" Joe asked because the reputation of his business was vitally important to him.

"No. Not that we know of." Coop walked around and sat back down, as did Harry.

"Can you tell me just what it is that you check on the infusion pumps, if check is the correct term?"

"We check for electrical safety, something like good current leakage. Or a power cord might be damaged. Sometimes orderlies will drop a unit. Stuff happens. We take the unit apart and check the circuits. Here, let me show you." He stood up and ushered them into the spanking-clean shop area.

"Here." Laura pointed to the digital screen on the face of the unit, above a keyboard of numbers like telephone push buttons. "The nurse punches in the flow, the time frame, the amount of fluid, and the rate, which is displayed here." She pointed to the screen. "The nurse on duty or doctor has only to look on the screen to know how much is left in the unit, whether to increase flow or whatever."

Harry remembered Larry punching in information on a unit.

"And you can put any fluid in the bag?" Coop pointed to boxes filled with sterile bags.

Joe nodded. "Sure. Blood. Morphine. Saline solution. Anesthesia. OBs use IVAC units to drop Pitocin, which stimulates the uterus to go into labor. The infusion pump is very versatile."

"And simple," Laura added.

"Here." Joe picked up a unit from the table. "You can even medicate yourself." He placed a round button attached to a black cord into Coop's hand. "You hit the button and you get more drip."

"Are these units well made?" Harry was curious.

"Oh sure. They're built to last and it's like everything else, newer models are more expensive, more bells and whistles, but I service units that are twenty years old-they usually come in from Third World countries."

"May I ask you something?" Laura smiled.

"Of course."

"Is someone stealing IVACs and selling them to poor countries?"

"What we have are two murders which we believe are connected, and I think we just found the connection. We don't know if the units are sold on the black market or not. What we have to go on right now are these false bills."

"Murders?" Laura's eyes widened.

"Yes, the plant manager of the hospital was killed three weeks ago and a doctor was killed just a week ago." She paused. "Both of those men must have stumbled onto something relating to these billings."

"Have you added up the amount of the billings? You've got three years' worth." Laura checked the figures and the dates.

"Yes, we have. It comes to seven hundred fifty thousand dollars for that time period."

"Someone's rolling in dough," Laura flatly stated.

"We've looked for that, too, Mr. and Mrs. Cramer. We didn't know this was the problem but we knew something had to be going on. We had no reports of suspicious patient deaths. We thought there might be a black market in human organs."

"There is." Joe leaned forward. "A huge black market."

"We found that out, too, but we also discovered that wasn't our problem. You two have shown me what's at stake here, a lot of money and more to come, I should guess."

"Joe, I think we'd better contact our lawyers. Officer, do you mind if I make copies of these?"

"No, but I ask you both to keep quiet about this. You can't sue anyone until we catch them and we won't catch them if they have warning."

"I understand," Laura agreed.

"This just knocks me out." Joe shook his head.

"The only reason the sheriff and I noticed these particular invoices, and it took time, I might add, was we crawled over the hospital, over billings, maintenance bills, you name it, but what finally caught our eye was that these bills were so neat."

"What do you mean?" Laura was curious.

"Well, they have a receipt date, as you can see." Coop pointed to the round red circle in the middle of each bill. "They have a pay date." She pointed to another circle, this one in blue with a date running across it diagonally. "But the invoices are so white and crisp."

"What do you mean?" Laura picked up an invoice.

"The other bills and invoices had gone through a couple of hands, a couple of shufflings. Fingerprints were on the paper, corners were a little dog-eared. These are pristine. It was a long shot but it was just peculiar enough for me to come up here."

"I'm glad you did." Joe, upset, looked into the young officer's eyes.

"Is there anyone who stands out in your mind at Crozet Hospital?" Coop had been making notes in her notebook.

"No. Well, I met the director and the assistant director, that sort of thing. I talked to a few of the nurses. The nurses are the ones who use the infusion pumps. That's why the simpler the model, the better it is. You can make these devices too complicated. Nurses have to use them, they're overburdened, tired-keep it simple." His voice boomed.

"How serious would a malfunctioning unit be?" Coop asked.

"Life and death." Laura folded her long fingers together as if in prayer. "An improper dosage could kill a patient."

After they left Salvage Masters they drove east on Route 50, ten miles into Middleburg. Harry took her chaps to Journeyman Saddlery to have them repaired, since Chuck Pinnell in Charlottesville was off to another Olympics. As he was one of the best leatherworkers in the nation, with a deep understanding of riders' needs, he had been invited to the Olympics to repair tack for all the competitors, not just Americans.

"Coop, look at these neat colors and the trims you can get, too."

Cynthia felt the samples, played with putting colors together. "It really is beautiful."

"They can put your initials on the back or on the side. They can make leather rosebuds on the belt or whatever. It's just incredible."

"I can see that."

"Mine's a plain pair of pigskin chaps with cream trim and my initials on the back, see?" Harry showed her the back of the chaps belt.