Maddy's Floor Page 5

  "The logistics of the move aren't your concern. We have people who will take care of that. But I don't have the room assignments sorted out yet."

  "Yeah, whatever. I don't really care about that. It'd be nice to look out over the back woods, though. I'd like a spot of nature to remind me of better days. Didn't I hear something about balconies in some of those rooms?" He rubbed his grizzled chin. "That'd be mighty fine."

  Gerard sighed. A deep, long-suffering sigh that made John roll his eyes. "I know. However, the balconies are designed to be for everyone, as are the sitting rooms. There aren't closed bedrooms John. There's privacy, only not the same as four walls and a door would provide." He hastily backed up. "That's if you're getting onto Maddy's floor."

  "What?" John roared. "Of course I am. You said so yourself. What are you trying to pull here?"

  "John, I said your transfer to The Haven had been approved. I didn't say you were guaranteed a spot on Maddy's floor."

  Panicked, John's face burned, his heart slammed inside his chest and it was all he could do to catch the next breath – the fear was so bad. He had to get onto that floor. It was his only chance. "Don't play games with me, Gerard. Maddy's floor is The Haven and that's the only place I want to be."

  "I can't just give one to you without going over all applications and making an unbiased decision, John. The beds are at a premium. More than that, there are strict requirements to gain entrance to the third floor. Requirements you don't necessarily fit. We have a stringent interview and selection process, for that reason."

  Unbridled anger rose in John's chest at Gerard's words. His left hand pressed against the sudden constriction as he tried to breathe. The bloody bastard. "Why you little prick! This has nothing to do with the entrance requirements – this is all about money, isn't it? You want more to place me on Maddy's Floor. Haven't I paid enough? Or maybe it's you who hasn't paid enough. I thought we'd put the past behind us, but if you don't get me onto Maddy's Floor, the past is going to rear its ugly head and bite you in the ass."

  Silence.

  In an odd voice, Gerard asked, "Are you blackmailing me?"

  "Hell, no. Nor am I threatening you. This is a goddamn promise." This couldn't happen, not now. He had so little time left. With so much panic surging through him, he almost dropped the cell phone. His breath came out in anguished gasps. "Don't you understand? I have to be on Maddy's Floor," he cried. "What makes someone else more important?"

  "Well, for one, they've been waiting much longer than you. Some of the other patients have been waiting for over a year now. From their perspective, you should be on a lower floor and they should move up one at a time. You have to understand, John. I don't have a few applications, I have several hundred. Not everyone will qualify, but we have to consider them."

  John sank back down into his wrinkled bed, tears welling up at the corner of his eyes. Not fair. So close and yet so far. He pulled up the corner of his sheet and wiped his eyes. Giving himself a hard mental shake, he tried to see the situation clearly. He understood that requirements had to be met, a set of criteria had to be established and followed. He knew that for these twelve beds to be filled, hundreds had to be rejected. He was a lawman. He understood justice. He'd played fair and square all his life …and he'd bent the rules just once.

  Now he needed the beneficiary of that one slip to bend the rules for him.

  Gerard's voice turned brusque. "Listen, John, I know we go way back. I'll take another look and see what I can do."

  John didn't dare speak. Sixty-six-year-old men didn't cry. Shit, real men didn't cry. He was being a wuss. He could blackmail the bastard into getting what he wanted. However, he also had money. Maybe he should sweeten the pot. Sniffling hard and coughing as if to clear his throat, John said, "Let me know if there is any equipment you're short of down there. I might be able to help."

  There was silence for a moment before Gerard answered. "Will do. Give me a day or two to check some figures. Then I'll get back to you."

  "A day or two is fine. Don't wait too long."

  The meaning was clear. John meant to get what he wanted. And he'd pay his way if he must, but get it he would. One way or another.

  ***

  Gerard stared across his large executive office. His gaze landed on the huge oil painting on the far wall. He didn't bother to bring it into focus. What was he going to do now?

  He didn't have much choice with the bed assignment issues. And in this case, he was good with that. Still, wouldn't it be nice if people took to their beds and were happy? But no, just like little children with desk assignments in school, everyone thought having a bed somewhere else – in some cases, anywhere else – would be better.

  The hospital policy stated they were not to cater to the petty demands of patients and doctors. Fat chance of following that policy to the letter. Still, if making minor changes appeased the parties involved, then The Haven tried to accommodate all reasonable requests.

  Then there was the problem of John's thinly veiled blackmail threat. He shuddered. However, if John were willing to pay a little more, then he'd pass his application through the Board no problem. With the budget shortfall they were currently experiencing, anyone who could pay would pay, whether the Board liked the system or not. This wasn't the time to raise the moral issues of better care for the wealthy. The doctors on the other floors were extremely capable. The Haven was known for the quality of care for all patients, not just those on Maddy's floor.

  Damn that man anyway. The same persistence that had made him a hell of a cop made him a hell of a lousy patient. Choices were limited. Bills had to be paid and patients needed care. Yada, yada, yada. That Maddy wouldn't be happy over this decision was a given. What choice did he have? He hoped John's life expectancy was incorrect, because that would be a sticking point. But if he did get John there without her knowing about it, then she'd find a way to make it work, she always did. Manipulative? Yes.

  Desperate? Oh yes.

  Well, there was no point in waiting. Grabbing up the correct application file from the top of his overflowing in basket, he picked up the desk phone. "John, I have good news for you."

  ***

  John ended his call and immediately placed a second one. His emotions were still on a roller coaster. "Drew, I got onto Maddy's floor. It took a bit of finagling, but I did it."

  "Wow," Drew's tired voice perked up.

  That damn kid worked too hard. He'd have made a hell of a police chief.

  "That's great news. Did he give you a date yet?"

  "Nope. They have to finish the rest of the wing. I told him I'd move in with exposed lumber as long I made it out of here, but he just laughed and said it wasn't that bad. Apparently they've moved one new patient in already, however, the rest of the medical equipment and supplies will take a day or two."

  Drew said, "Please tell me you didn't offer to pay for equipment…"

  John's smile beamed across the room at the three other patients shamelessly listening in on his call. "What's the point of having money if it doesn't help you?"

  Drew was silent for a moment. "I think that's called bribery."

  "Bribery, smibery. Who cares what it's called as long as it works? Gerard needs donations and I need a bed. That's called a trade." He wanted to get up and dance around the room. This was going to work. He just knew the famous Dr. Maddy would fix him.

  "Hmmm. At least I'll be able to see both you and Aunt Doris at the same time."

  John coughed. "That's the best part. I'm getting on Dr. Maddy's floor, but I doubt she is. She's going to be pissed."

  "You have the money, trade her way up there, too."

  What? Like hell. John couldn't help the harrumph that slid out. "She can pay her own damn way. Christ, the sibling bond doesn't stretch that far. Especially a step-sibling. She's a pain in the ass with all her ordering about. Do you think I want to listen to that to the end of my days? Like hell." He shifted in his bed, pulling the blankets up higher on his shoulders
. This damn place was either cold or hot. There never seemed to be a happy medium. Cheap buggers, all of them. All they ever wanted was money.

  Well, he'd spend his the way he wanted to. And he'd leave it to whomever he wanted and that person sure as hell wasn't his stepsister. He winced as his guilty conscience poked him. "Besides, look at her mental deterioration. It's not like she'd appreciate the difference in the floors. Why waste the money?"

  Drew's long-suffering sigh, the one John had heard a million times before, sounded through the phone. "Whatever makes you happy. You do know you can't take it with you?"

  "Hell, I know that. Otherwise I'd have kicked off and taken it with me years ago, before this old body decided to break down. Now I'll spend it when I want to and how I want to. Have to go. The dinner cart is coming."

  John hung up on his nephew. Damn do-gooder. How the hell had Drew gotten so strong on family? Besides Doris wasn't really family. And she'd spent all her money on her loose lifestyle. Why should he pay for her care now? Drew was the only one worth helping, but if Drew kept bugging John to be nice to Doris, Drew wasn't going to get anything.

  Just like Doris.

  ***

  Drew put away his cell. Why the hell couldn't those two get along? Didn't he have enough trouble on his hands without running interference between his aunt and his uncle? Jesus. For two bedridden people they caused a pack of trouble. Like he needed that, today of all days – his first day on his new job.

  He stood in the doorway and surveyed his new space as part of the Cold Case Squad office space. He'd visited before, but now this was his office. The large open room featured windows down one long wall that opened out to the back parking lot. Bulletin and white boards filled the other walls. Some were filled with notes and pictures and others remained empty, waiting for cases. Stacks of boxes, file numbers written on one end, filled the back wall. In the middle of the room were several large empty tables and two desks sat toward the back of the room. Open and friendly looking. He liked it already.

  "Drew, welcome. Glad to have you here, finally."

  Wilson Carter walked toward him, arm outstretched. They'd worked together for years, then apart for the last two when Wilson had transferred to this unit. He'd worked on Drew, slowly, inevitably persuading him to join the Cold Case department. Drew hoped to find that sense of job satisfaction here that eluded him in his former position.

  Solving old cases with forgotten victims and helping out the families that had been waiting for closure since forever, should give that to him.

  He shook Wilson's hand and listened as his old friend gave him an overview of the work area and the cases in progress. "Wow, it seems like we have some work to do."

  "Ya think?"

  Drew grinned, feeling a weight slide off his shoulders. "And I'm damn glad to be here." He glanced at the one wall beside the doorway that held several kids' pictures. "Where do we start?"

  "We have several cases that have been reopened. It's going to take you some time to get up to speed on everything so I suggest you start with one. Go over it so you can become familiar with it, and then go on to the next. However…" He walked over to study the board in question. "This isn't really one of them. Although, when we have a lull or spare time, feel free to look deeper. However, unless you come up with some concrete lead – well, it's not in the budget. We have to use the limited man hours where we can make a difference."

  Drew stepped closer to the old photos on the wall. Six of them, boys and girls, one black and one of mixed race, Mexican maybe. The others were Caucasians. The fresh happy faces tore at his heart. If they were on the wall, they were victims. Victims he'd come here to help. He read the brief notes interspersing the old photos.

  Glancing over at Wilson, he said, "I'll find time to go over this case though, even if it's in my spare time. I remember my uncle telling me about this one. Fascinating stuff."

  Wilson nodded. "And very odd."

  ***

  Doris glared at the small black cell phone. Her hand trembled so hard, she could barely hold the receiver to her ear. Her perfect asshole of a brother was gloating. Again. Jerk. In truth, he wasn't really her brother. Her mother had married his father when they were young enough to share their parents and old enough to hate having to do so. A difference she'd come to appreciate over the years. She tugged ruthlessly at the blankets, pulling them higher on her chest.

  "You got a bed on Maddy's floor? I don't believe you." And she didn't. Her application had been in for months – if not years. Who could remember? The days rolled into one hellish moment after another. "How did you get accepted before I did?"

  "Money. Something I have a lot of and you don't."

  John's joy made her sick. How dare he bribe his way in? And gloat about it. No siree, she wasn't letting this slide. The Haven would pay for this insult.

  With the new wing opening, she'd hoped her application would finally be accepted. So far, only a couple of new patients had heard about their transfer requests. If she trusted the gossip, there were another ten beds or so still to fill. Patients had been in a frenzy trying to get transfer requests in as fast as possible, only they needed their doctor's approval too. Surely, one of those beds had her name on it?

  She closed her phone while her brother was mid-sentence. There was only so much gloating she could handle. Besides, the second floor of The Haven was chaos. Doris watched the organized mess continue, as it did at this time of day every day. There was no weekend off from being poked, prodded and asked silly questions, with answers noted on the clipboard for all to see. Who in the world cared if she'd had her fiber and whether it was working or not? Peace was a prized commodity. Still it was better than the being in the morgue. Doris shook her head, her busy fingers pleating the sheets on her chest.

  She studied the others in her ward. She'd had the same three neighbors for the last six months or so. No one left here except in a coffin. They should paint the walls black to prepare everyone for that certainty. Instead, someone had painted a happy yellow color on the walls. Yuck.

  Still she'd been here close to a year. If John would give his head a shake, he'd understand that she was the one who deserved to be on Dr. Maddy's floor – not him. She didn't mind if he joined later – after he'd done his time on the other floors.

  The higher the floor here, the closer to God. At least that was the rumor. She could believe it. The few times, she'd been privileged to see Dr. Maddy, she'd given off such a peaceful serenity it made Doris want to reach out and touch her. So young and so beautiful… Doris just knew she'd been graced by God.

  That her stepbrother should get to Maddy's floor before her was intolerable. Settling back into bed, Doris pondered her next move.

  Something had to be done.

  ***

  Maddy, carrying her big ceramic mug, clipped down the open hallway at an astonishing speed. She wanted this over as quickly as possible. She had to curb the negativity and the fastest way to deal with that was to face the issue. Smiling at the patients as she walked past, her steps slowed as she reached the new wing.

  "Dr. Lenning." She turned her groomed smile on her new arrival. Only by drawing on her years of experience did she keep her shock at his appearance from showing. The tall arrogant doctor who had made her life hell had turned into a shrunken and obviously very ill man – a shell of his former self.

  "Welcome to The Haven."

  His response?

  A glare.

  She raised an eyebrow and waited him out. Everyone knew the only way to beat an aggressive dog was to make sure he knew who was boss. Maddy had no intention of backing down to anyone on her floor – especially him.

  Keeping her professionalism firmly in place, she let him see the amusement in her gaze. If he wanted to pout, let him. She'd dealt effectively with similar patients before. To that end, she walked forward and straightened his sheet, tucking it up to his shoulders, shifting his little table closer so he'd be able to reach his water. Lifting his glass, she as
ked, "Would you like a drink? I'm sure your mouth must be dry from the air in here."

  His glare deepened.

  She smiled as if he were an obstinate child. "No? Okay, maybe you'll feel like it later." She replaced the glass and stepped back. As if by rote, she rambled off the traditional greeting. "Welcome to The Haven. Here your comfort, your health and your state of mind are important to us. Our guarantee, our promise to you, is to make your visit as happy as can be. We'll give you the best medical care we can and hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here with us."