Janet Evanovich - Notorious Nineteen

“I’m supposed to be applying for a job at The Clinic,” I said to him, “but it doesn’t seem to be open for business. The front door is locked and no one answers. Did they move or something?”

“As far as I can tell that’s normal for The Clinic. It always looks closed.”

“Do you know what they do there? It didn’t say in the ad.”

“Don’t know. I’ve never seen anyone go in or go out. Our security guard says sometimes he hears the garage door going up.”

I walked to the end of the cul-de-sac, where there was another wooded area, and I was able to lose myself in the foliage. I leaned against a tree and waited, suspecting this was wasted effort. Nurse Norma was most likely going to enter through the garage.

At four Norma’s Jag cruised down the street, turned in to the private drive at the side of the building, and disappeared around back. I heard the garage door roll up, and I dropped my binoculars back into my messenger bag. So much for this brilliant idea.

I stayed in place and watched the building for signs of activity. After ten minutes I heard the garage door roll up again, and a black Cadillac Escalade with dark tinted windows appeared from the back of the building and motored down the street. I couldn’t get a good look at the driver but I copied the plate and called Connie to trace it.

Lula was asleep when I reached the Buick. I rapped on the window to jolt her awake, and she snapped to attention.

“Who? What?” she said.

I slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine over. “I wasn’t able to get the front-door code, but shortly after Norma arrived I saw an SUV drive away from the building. Norma was replacing someone.”

“Did you see who was in the car?”

“No, but I got the plate. Connie’s tracing it for me.”

“So how are we going to get in this place?”

“There’s a mail drop box in the back of the building next to the garage door. It’s designed to receive package deliveries. It isn’t locked from the outside because no one could possibly get into it. If it isn’t locked from the inside we might be able to shove Briggs in and have him unlock a door for us.”

“You think he’d do that?”

“A patient disappeared. That’s a major security breach, and Briggs can’t even explain how it happened. I’m sure he’d like to solve the mystery.”

“I thought he said no. Like I thought nobody at the hospital cared.”

“I don’t believe it. They have to care. It’s embarrassing. It’s bad business. And Briggs is head of security. I mean, how does it look on your résumé that you lost a patient?”

“I see your point. Do you think he’ll fit?”

“It was a pretty big drop box.”

“When are you going to do this?”

“Tonight.”

“I’m in,” Lula said. “I don’t want to miss this.”

I stopped at the hospital on the way back to the office. Lula waited in the car and I ran in to see Briggs.

“Are you nuts?” Briggs said when I explained my plan. “I’m not doing that. And by the way it’s demeaning. How would you like to be stuffed into a drop box?”

“I wouldn’t fit,” I said.

Briggs narrowed his eyes at me. “I bet I could get you in.”

“Let’s not get nasty over this. You lost a patient, and I’m offering to help you.”

Briggs took a moment. “And you think Cubbin is in The Clinic?”

“It’s possible.”

“Okay. I’ll do it, but I swear if you ever tell anyone you stuffed me into a drop box I’ll shoot you.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you in the FedEx parking lot at nine o’clock.”

I returned to the car and plugged the key into the ignition.

“Well?” Lula asked. “What did he say?”

“He’s going to do it.”

“Wow, just like that?”

“He said he’d shoot me if I told anyone we stuffed him into a drop box. What’s with all this shooting stuff? Have you noticed there’s a lot of shooting going on? Something should be done about it.”

“Like what?”

“We should stop shooting people! There has to be a better way to solve a problem.”

“I guess,” Lula said. “But personally, I like shooting someone once in a while. Nothing serious. Like maybe just shooting someone in the little toe. I’ve done that a couple times.”

I cut my eyes to the rearview mirror and glanced at Tiki. He was still strapped in and he looked benign, but I didn’t trust him. I thought he might be encouraging thoughts of shooting.

Connie was packing up to leave when we got back to the office. “The black Escalade belongs to Abu Darhmal, the second doctor listed at The Clinic. Darhmal is forty years old and has a Ph.D. in biochemistry from the University of Maryland. No medical degree that I could find. He’s originally from Somalia. Looks to me like he has a green card but isn’t a U.S. citizen. I could find no address other than The Clinic. He taught at college level before settling in at The Clinic four years ago. No wife or other dependents. He was accused of human trafficking four years ago but was acquitted. Probably why he left academia.” Connie handed me the report.

“Maybe Nurse Norma is doing Dr. Darhmal,” Lula said.

“She’d have to do him fast,” I said. “He left immediately after she got there.”

“The Clinic is even sketchier,” Connie said. “It’s listed as a medical recovery facility, but that’s it. No hours of operation. A phone number that goes directly to voicemail. It’s owned by a holding company. Franz Sunshine Enterprises. Franz Sunshine is the president. He’s also president of FS Financials. Sunshine bought the Clinic building at auction four years ago. Its assessed assets come to just under five hundred thousand dollars. That’s not a lot for a viable business.”

Connie gave me that file as well. “I’m out of here,” she said. “There’s a glass of wine waiting for me somewhere.”

“I’m out of here too,” Lula said.

I checked my watch. It was almost six o’clock. Too late to try the bridesmaid dress on for size. I’d have to do it tomorrow. I left the bonds office and drove to my parents’ house.

“Just in time for dinner,” Grandma said when I strolled into the kitchen.

“That was my plan,” I said, setting Tiki onto the kitchen table.

My mother was spooning mashed potatoes into a bowl. “What is that?” she asked. “It looks like a totem pole.”

“It’s a Hawaiian tiki,” I told her. “Vinnie took it as security on a bond and I’m babysitting it because he didn’t want it in the office.”

“It’s cute,” Grandma said. “It reminds me of a big tater tot.”

I looked over my mother’s shoulder. “Pot roast?”

My mother nodded. “With mashed potatoes, green beans, and gravy.”

“And chocolate pudding for dessert,” Grandma said.

I set a plate for myself at the table and helped carry the food in.

“Have you heard any more about Geoffrey Cubbin?” I asked Grandma, taking my seat.

“Nothing about Cubbin,” she said, “but there’s talk going around that some residents of Cranberry Manor were planning to kidnap him and squeeze some information out about the money.”

“Do you have names?”

“Nope. Just the rumor. I heard about it at the bakery this morning when I went for coffee cake.”

I forked a slab of meat onto my plate. “Those people are pretty old. Hard to believe they’d be able to kidnap Cubbin.”

“They want their money back,” Grandma said. “And they haven’t got a lot to lose. If they get arrested it’s not like they’ll spend a lot of years in prison. Most of them have one foot in the grave already.”

I helped myself to potatoes. “I’ll go back to Cranberry Manor tomorrow and dig around,” I told Grandma. “See if you can get me a name.”