Mercy (Buchanan-Renard #2)

Mercy (Buchanan-Renard #2) Page 23

“It seems to me that if an employee were injured while on the job, then he’s entitled to workman’s compensation.”

“There are exceptions.”

“Like what?”

“If the employee did anything to cause the accident, like come to work drunk, he could be denied workman’s comp.”

“Or if he used a machine he knew was broken?”

“That’s the argument the Carsons will use.”

“But you’re prepared for that.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you moving so quickly?”

“Because I don’t want to leave Daryl hanging. I’m not going to be here long, and I want to try to get his problem fixed before I go back home. I promised him.”

She lowered her head and watched her cornflakes get soggy. She had known all along that Theo was going to leave. Of course, she did. And that was the reason she was trying not to become attached. There was only one little wrinkle in her plan. As loath as she was to admit it, she wanted to grab hold of him and never let go.

The big jerk. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t kissed her, she wouldn’t be feeling miserable now.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve got that look on your face . . . like you want to kick someone.”

“I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

She pushed the uneaten cereal out of her way, leaned back in her chair, and folded her arms. “Nonspecific viruses.” There was a thread of belligerence in her voice.

“That’s the last thing in the world I would have guessed you were thinking about. Viruses. Go figure.”

“Nonspecific viruses,” she corrected.

“My mistake. So tell me. What exactly were you thinking about nonspecific viruses?”

“They’re insidious . . . and destructive, the way they attack the body. One minute you’re feeling just fine and dandy, and the next, your throat is scratchy and sore and your body begins to ache everywhere. Then your glands get so swollen you have trouble swallowing. When you think you couldn’t possibly feel any worse, you start coughing, and before you know it, you’ve got all sorts of secondary complications.”

He stared at her for several seconds and then asked, “And you were thinking about this because . . .?”

You’re leaving, you big jerk. She lifted her shoulders. “I’m a physician. I think about such things.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, but who knows how I’ll feel in five minutes. It’s cruel . . . these viruses. They strike just like that.” She snapped her fingers and nodded.

“But if they aren’t the deadly kind of virus, then eventually they run their course and go away. Right?”

“Oh, yes, they go away, all right,” she snapped.

Theo said what he was thinking. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“I feel a virus coming on.”

“You just said you were feeling fine,” he pointed out.

“I don’t want to talk about this any longer. Sick people depress me.”

“Michelle?”

“Yes?”

“You’re a doctor. I’m going out on a limb here, but don’t you treat sick people all day long?”

She suddenly realized how childishly she was behaving and tried to come up with an excuse for her moment of madness. “I’m not a morning person.”

“Don’t you do most of your surgeries early in the morning?”

“Yes, I do, but the patients are already under. They don’t care what kind of a mood I’m in. Did you sleep well?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Yes. What about you?”

“Yes. It was nice not having the phone jar me awake. Have you heard from your friend Noah, yet?”

“No.”

“He’ll need to stop by here to get the key to the clinic so he can look around. We’ll have to wait for him.”

“Noah won’t need a key.”

“How will he get in?”

“He’ll break and enter, but don’t worry. He won’t really break anything. He prides himself on being quick and quiet.”

“Are you supposed to meet him at a set time and place?”

“No,” he said. “But I’m not worried. Noah will find me. What’s on your schedule today?”

“Since you don’t want me to start cleaning up the clinic until Noah’s gone through the place, I’ve got a free day. I do need to get hold of Dr. Robinson and find out about his difficult patients,” she said. “And the only other thing I have to do is drag you to football practice at three. You did promise Mr. Freeland that you’d stop by, and since I’m the team physician — and I use the term loosely — I have to be there.”

“They need a doctor during practice?” he asked, grinning.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “The boys do a lot of damage to one another banging heads and other body parts. It doesn’t seem to matter that they wear helmets and pads. I had a dislocated shoulder last week and a badly sprained knee two days ago. The boys are really awful, but don’t tell anyone I said so. Speaking of Mr. Freeland,” she continued, “he wrote down a number on that paper he handed you. Did you look at it, and were you duly impressed?”

“Yes, I read the number. I can’t really say I was impressed.”

“Amused, then?”

He nodded. “I make more in a week than he offered for the year.”

“It’s not a rich district.”

“I understand.”

“And I’m sure he assumed you’d be making money working as a lawyer too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you going to change into your suit before we go to the mill?”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Levi’s? Is that proper attire when you want to intimidate someone?”

“It isn’t what you wear that counts. It’s all in the attitude. When can you be ready to leave?”

“Give me ten minutes.”

She stacked the dishes in the sink and then hurried upstairs to change her shirt to a less revealing one while Theo collected his papers.

As he was backing the car out of the drive, he said, “First stop is Second and Victor. I know it’s in St. Claire, but you’ll have to give me exact directions.”

“It’s easy. It’s right behind McDonald’s.”

“Good. I can get some fries to hold me over until lunch.”

“Your blood must be as thick as Crisco.”

“No, it isn’t. I’ve got low cholesterol and lots of the good stuff.”

Michelle directed him through the streets of St. Claire.

“Turn left here,” she instructed. “Why are we going to Second and Victor?”

“Fencing. Ah, there it is.” He pulled into the lot adjacent to the St. Claire Fencing Company, parked the car but left the motor running, and got out. “I already called the order in, so this won’t take long. I just need to pay.” He hit the power lock and then shut the door.

She waited with the air conditioner running full speed. It was hot and muggy outside, and the weatherman had predicted an eighty percent chance for an afternoon thundershower. She lifted her hair and fanned her neck. She still hadn’t readjusted to the humidity in Bowen. Or the pace of life. She was used to running, and now she was going to have to learn how to slow down again.

It took ten minutes for Theo to complete the transaction. Michelle was dying to know why he wanted to buy a fence, but she wasn’t going to ask any more questions. If he wanted her to know, he’d tell her in his own good time.

She lasted until Theo had parked the car in front of the St. Claire Bank and Trust, which was exactly three blocks away from the fencing company.

“Did you buy a fence?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What kind did you get?”

He was going through the stack of papers in the files he had tucked in the console between them. “Wrought iron,” he said. He pulled out two official-looking documents, then got out of the car and came around to open her door for her.

“That’s awfully expensive.”

“It was worth the price.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And why did you buy it?”

“Call it a consolation prize,” he said, “because I’m not going to get a bigger gun.”

He knew she didn’t understand. She’d already gone to the car when little John Patrick had told him about his birthday.

“There are fencing companies back in Boston.”

“Yes, there are.”

It suddenly dawned on her. “Does this have anything to do with Lois?”

“Lois who?”

She gave up. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“That’s right. I’m the strong, silent type.”

“I hate the strong, silent types. They’re all type A personalities. Heart attacks waiting to happen.”

He pulled the door open. “Sweetheart, don’t you ever think about anything but medicine?”

If he only knew. Since she’d met him, the only thing she’d been able to think about was going to bed with him. But she wasn’t going to admit it. “Sure I do,” she said. “Want to know what I’m thinking right now?”

“Are you getting cranky again?”

She laughed. “When was I cranky?”

Theo motioned to the guard, then stepped back so Michelle could go inside first. He knew his weapon would set the alarm off. He flashed his government ID at the elderly man and waited for him to hit the release button. The gun was concealed in an ankle strap he’d had sent to him with the papers.

The guard waved Theo inside. “How can I help you, Officer?”

Theo didn’t correct the misassumption. “I have an appointment with the president of the bank. Could you direct me to his office?”

The guard nodded enthusiastically. “Sure I can. Mr. Wallbash is in the back. You can see him sitting behind his desk on the other side of the glass wall.”

“Thank you.”

Theo caught up with Michelle, pointed to a chair in the lobby outside of the president’s office, and said, “Maybe you should wait here. I may have to use a dirty word in there.”

“What would that word be?”

He leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “Audit.”

“Excuse me, ma’am. Aren’t you Big Daddy Jake’s girl?” The guard was hurrying toward Michelle.

She whispered, “Good luck,” to Theo and then turned to the old man. “Yes, I am,” she said.

“Then you’re the doctor, aren’t you?”

He introduced himself and shook her hand. “I heard about what happened down at your clinic. My wife, Alice, and I were just saying how nice it was going to be to have Jake’s girl looking out for us. We both need a good doctor. Alice has trouble with her bunions and her corns. She can’t put on her Sunday shoes ’cause it hurts so much, and I’ve got to do something about my bursitis. Some days I can’t raise my right arm at all. When do you think you’ll be seeing patients?”

“Hopefully, in a couple of weeks.”

“We can wait until then,” he said. “We’ve put up with our aches and pains this long. This part-time job of mine helps me keep my mind off my ailments,” he added. “I fill in for the regular guard two days a week. I guess you could say I keep banker’s hours.” He laughed at his own joke and then said, “Will you look at that? Mr. Wallbash looks like he’s gonna have himself a heart attack. His face is as red as a chili pepper, and he’s sweating like a pig. He sure doesn’t like what the officer is telling him.”

Michelle agreed. Wallbash did look ill. He shuffled through the papers Theo had placed on his desk, then looked up long enough to glare at Theo.

She couldn’t see Theo’s face because his back was to her, but whatever he was saying as he leaned over the desk was having quite an impact on Wallbash. The president put both hands up as though he were being robbed and nodded vigorously.

She thought she knew why. Theo must have used the magic word.

He wasn’t inside the president’s office all that long, and he didn’t shake the man’s hand when he was leaving. Wallbash was busy mopping the sweat from his brow. Theo paused in the doorway, and whatever he said in parting made the color drain from Wallbash’s face.

Theo’s expression was ferocious as he crossed the lobby to her. He noticed her watching him, winked, then grabbed hold of her hand, nodded to the guard, and kept right on going, dragging her along in his wake.

She waited until they were in the car to find out what had happened. “Well?”

“Wallbash isn’t happy, but he’ll cooperate. He damn well better,” he added in a voice that made her take notice.

“Now what?”

“One more stop and then we can eat lunch. Tell me how to get to the sugar mill.”

She gave him directions and then asked him to tell her what he’d done. “Wallbash looked like he was going to have a tantrum.”

“The Carson brothers have done their banking at the St. Claire Bank and Trust since the company began. They’re one of the bank’s largest depositors, and that ought to tell you something about the sweet deal those sons of bitches have going. Wallbash and Gary Carson are friends. According to Wallbash, he’s a real nice guy.”

“What about his brother?”

“Jim Carson’s a hothead. I think Wallbash is a little afraid of him. Jim’s the one who went to the hospital to fire Daryl. They play it that way on purpose because it gets them what they want.”

“Like good cop, bad cop?”

“More like bad and worse. You know, I’ll take a hothead over a sneaky little weasel manipulator any day of the week. If I’m lucky today, both brothers will be at the mill and I’ll get to watch them do their routine.”

“But what was the purpose of visiting the bank?”

“I froze their accounts.”

She burst into laughter. “That can’t be legal.”

“Sure it is,” he countered. “Wallbash has the papers, all signed and legal. He has to cooperate, or I’ll nail his . . .”