by Robin Cook
Sunday had been spent trying to make the home situation tolerable for everyone. Luckily Hannah had an acquaintance with a late husband who’d been chronically sick and had required a hospital bed with guardrails for the last years of his life. Since she no longer needed the bed, she’d graciously offered it to Brian to install in the second-floor guest room, across from Camila’s room. To his great relief, Hannah had insisted she’d spend the night with her daughter to give him a break and a good night’s sleep.
The sound of the front door chimes ringing shocked Brian from his recollections of the past few difficult days, and he leaped out of bed, grabbing his robe in the process. As he headed for the stairs, he wondered who in God’s name could be ringing his doorbell before eight on a Monday morning.
Grabbing a mask off the console table in the front foyer and looping its strings around his ears, he pulled open the door. His wild rush had been hopefully to prevent whoever was there from impatiently ringing the doorbell yet again. About eight feet away, standing on the top step of a mini flight of stairs in the middle of Brian’s front yard, was a white-haired, moderately well-dressed gentleman in a white shirt, poorly knotted tie, and sports jacket. Despite only seeing the man’s forehead and his blue eyes through rimless eyeglasses above his face mask, Brian sensed that he vaguely knew the person. The man was holding an envelope in his right hand, although his arms were limp along his sides.
“Can I help you?” Brian asked, trying not to be irritated. It wasn’t a convenient time to be bothered, especially with the possibility of rousing Emma and Juliette. Thanks to phones and email, house visits of all sorts were rare these days, especially with the pandemic.
“I apologize,” the man said with a mild Irish accent. “Really I do.”
The combination of the sound of the man’s voice and the other visual cues brought some memories back. “Grady?” Brian questioned, tilting his head to the side to get a slightly different view. “Grady Quillen?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry to bother you like this at the crack of dawn.”
“It’s not a problem. It’s not that early, Grady. I was awake, although the rest of the brood is still asleep. What’s up?” He recognized him as one of the patrolmen of the 34th Precinct when Brian’s father had been the commanding officer. He also knew Grady lived not that far away, on Payson Avenue in an apartment overlooking Inwood Hill Park.
“Believe it or not, I have to ask you if you are Brian Yves Murphy.”
“Is this some kind of a joke?”
“I wish,” Grady said, looking sheepish.
“How’s the family?” Brian asked. “Everybody staying well in this crazy time?”
“Yeah, we’re fine and healthy. Thank you for asking, but you are making this harder for me than it needs to be. Are you Brian Yves Murphy?”
“Okay, yes, I’m Brian Yves Murphy. Are you happy?”
“Hardly,” Grady said as he handed him the envelope. “After I retired from the NYPD five years ago, I sat around for a few months and drove my wife batty. You know the expression: ‘for better or worse but not for lunch.’ Then I took a job as a process server for Premier Collections. It’s kept me married and pays for the Jameson. I’m sorry, Brian.”
“So, I guess I’ve been served?” He looked at his name typed on the front of the envelope, and with his background in law enforcement he knew full well what it meant. The fact that Grady had become a process server didn’t surprise him in the slightest. Like being a commercial building security guard, being a process server was common for retired New York City patrolmen.
“I’m afraid so,” Grady said. “It’s a complaint and a summons. I apologize for being the bearer of bad news, but I couldn’t refuse just because I know you.”
“If you have a few minutes, let’s sit and chat,” Brian suggested while pointing down toward the ground. “Sorry I can’t invite you inside, so this will have to do.” He stepped out and sat on the single step leading up to his front door. Moving more than the mandated six feet away, Grady sat on his step and turned sideways. It was pleasant enough with the morning sun and mild temperature, surrounded by Brian’s shrub-and-tiger-lily-filled front yard.
After briefly leafing through the papers Grady had provided to confirm what they were, Brian replaced them in the envelope and looked up. “Please don’t feel in any way responsible for this. My getting served is not unexpected except for the speed involved. If this was going to happen, I thought I’d at least have the usual thirty days.”
“It’s been my experience that MMH Inwood has been progressively aggressive with collections over the last few years,” Grady said, “but with the pandemic throwing a monkey wrench into the hospital’s finances, it’s gone through the roof.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“To give you an idea, just since March they’ve had me running ragged, averaging ten to fifteen services a week. And I’m not the only Premier process server. There’s three of us.”
“Are you guys serving just people in Inwood?” he asked, taken aback by the numbers from just one community.
“The vast majority,” Grady said. “There’s always a few from Hudson Heights.”
“How do you know it’s the hospital behind the uptick and not the collections people themselves?”
“That’s easy. The hospital actually owns Premier Collections. They are part and parcel of the same organization.”
“You’re kidding?” Brian questioned, even more shocked by this than by the numbers. Learning that MMH Inwood was in the collection business meant that the hospital was even more predatory than he thought.
“I’m not kidding in the slightest,” Grady said. “It’s all the brainchild of the hospital CEO, Charles Kelley.”
“How do you know?”
Grady gave a short, sardonic laugh. “I know because he’s a cult figure around Premier Collections and with the hospital admin people, too. They all think he’s a financial genius. He’s also liberal with the MMH stock with higher-up employees, meaning, of course, I’ve been out of luck. I tell you, if I had any extra cash, I’d buy some of the MMH stock because I hear that it’s a winner, constantly going up.”
In an uncomfortable way, Charles Kelley and his tactics were sounding rather similar to Heather Williams’s business model.
“I’d like to meet this Charles Kelley sometime,” Grady continued. “I’ve heard his compensation is more than five million per year. Can you imagine? I think the only hospital CEO who makes more is the guy who runs the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center. He gets over six million. It’s crazy.”
Knowing the ridiculous amount of money he owed from Emma’s seven days of hospitalization, he could now believe it rather easily. He’d never had any idea what an impressive gold mine medical care could be.
“So, what are you going to do about this situation?” Grady asked. “As a friend, I want to make sure you know you have to respond to the summons within thirty days or there will be a summary judgment against you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Brian said.
“Obviously I couldn’t help but see that MMH Inwood is suing you for almost one hundred and ninety thousand dollars. Who in your family needed hospitalization?”
“My wife, Emma,” he told him. “She caught a bad mosquito-borne illness while we were on Cape Cod. It isn’t contagious, if you are worried.”
“I’m not worried,” Grady said. “What a bummer. How is she doing?”
“So-so,” Brian admitted, unwilling to provide any specifics. “At least she’s home.”
“I’m glad to hear it. What’s the story with your health insurance? I heard you and your wife were with the ESU.”
“We were until we retired in December to start our own security company,” Brian said. He was getting tired of explaining. “When we retired, we lost our city insurance and were forced to rely on a short-term policy tha
t’s not worth the paper it’s printed on. They aren’t contributing a penny.”
“Ouch,” Grady said. “Have you talked with a lawyer?”
“Not yet. That would cost more money.”
“Money well spent,” Grady said. “Take my word.”
“I think I’ll go back and try to reason with the MMH Inwood business office and come to some understanding.”
“From my vantage point the chances of that helping are piss poor. You need a lawyer, because Premier is dogged. I’m telling you: They won’t give up, and they’ll go after everything, including your house. By the way, this is one of the nicest houses in Inwood.”
“We were lucky to get it.”
“I’m serious about Premier being hard-nosed. You might know a neighbor of mine, Nolan O’Reilly.”
“I know the family,” Brian recalled. “What about him?”
“I had to serve him. He ended up losing everything, and his and his wife’s salaries have been attached from now until hell freezes over.”
“Was that a hospital bill, too?” he asked.
“It sure was, about twice yours. It involved surgery on their son, and to make matters worse, the kid died.”
“That’s awful.”
“I know a lawyer,” Grady continued. “He’s down on Broadway. A local kid, and he’s really good. I gave his name to my neighbor, and he fell over backward trying to help him.”
“Is this the neighbor who lost everything?” Brian asked.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“That’s not a very good advertisement for your lawyer acquaintance,” Brian countered.
“I know it sounds that way, but my neighbor had failed to respond to the original summons, and there had been a summary judgment. When that happens, it’s almost an impossible uphill struggle, so please respond!”
“I’ll definitely take care of it. What’s the lawyer’s name?”
“Patrick McCarthy.”
At that moment, he saw Aimée turn into the walkway, carrying a white bag from CHOCnyc, an Inwood French bakery. Both Brian and Grady immediately got to their feet. She stopped when she saw Grady, and like Brian had done earlier, she tilted her head and wrinkled her forehead, obviously recognizing him on some level but struggling to place him.
“Hello, Mrs. Murphy,” Grady said to help her. “It’s Grady Quillen.”
“Oui, Grady Quillen,” Aimée repeated. “So nice to see you again.”
“I’m sorry about Deputy Inspector Murphy’s passing,” Grady said, bowing his head.
“Thank you,” Aimée responded kindly. “It was a shock to us all.” Brian’s father had died of a heart attack a year and a half earlier while on the job as commanding officer of the local precinct.
After a few minutes of small talk, Grady went on his way, saying he had more work he needed to do. After he was out of sight, Aimée turned to Brian. “What was he here for so early?”
He waved the envelope. “He’s a process server, and he served me. I’m afraid MMH Inwood is already suing me for Emma’s care.”
“C’est terrible,” Aimée said, worry creasing her face. “Why so soon?”
“It is terrible,” Brian said, mimicking his mom’s French accent. “I feel like my life is coming apart at the seams, and I don’t even know where to begin to try to fix it.”
CHAPTER 11
August 31
It was just after eleven o’clock in the morning when Brian slowed his running pace as he neared MMH Inwood and then jogged up the driveway. As religious as he’d been about keeping himself in superb physical shape with weight training and cardiovascular exercise since high school, he seriously missed his daily workouts and hoped that with Emma at home and Aimée and Hannah offering to help, he could get back to some semblance of a routine. His mother and Emma’s mother certainly had helped that morning and had allowed him and Camila to spend a few hours in the home office brainstorming potential ways to drum up business for Personal Protection LLC. While they were strategizing, several more harassing calls came in from Premier Collections, confirming Grady’s assessment of their persistence.
After having been duly served with a complaint and summons, Brian had been eager to see Roger Dalton in the hopes of stopping the collection process, so as soon as he could, with Aimée’s and Hannah’s blessings, he’d set out. Now as he entered, he wondered if his visit would turn out to be worthwhile. After Grady’s estimate that the chances of reversing anything were “piss poor,” he wasn’t optimistic, but he couldn’t see any harm in trying.
As he entered the hospital’s swank admin area, he was reminded that he’d always thought of MMH Inwood as a positive asset to the community. Now he was thinking the opposite, especially knowing how many other Inwood residents were being pursued for collection of most likely seriously inflated hospital bills.
Brian had not called ahead, preferring just to show up and plead his case. But he soon began to think he’d made a mistake, as he was subjected to a considerable wait. When he was finally ushered into the office, Roger added to his pessimism by announcing that Brian had better make it quick, as he didn’t have much time.
“I’ll try to be fast,” he said, struggling to control his emotions. He was beginning to hate this thin wasp of a man. “I’m shocked and disappointed that my case has already been turned over to Premier Collections and they are already hounding me. From my memory, that’s legally questionable. Besides, you and I have been in continuous contact, and you know that I am taking this situation seriously enough to have made a personal visit to Peerless Health Insurance late last week.”
Sighing with boredom and annoyance, Roger tented his skinny, gnarled fingers. “To be honest, I didn’t have any choice, not under these trying times. Turning a case over to collections immediately has become standard policy dictated from above when it’s obvious the situation is futile, which is what you have led me to believe. You refused to set up an agreeable payment plan. Case closed.”
“I can’t set up a payment plan in this financial environment with the pandemic going on,” Brian said irritably. “My company’s income these days is zero.”
“That’s my point precisely,” Roger said. “You are not going to agree to a reasonable payment plan. So we agree.”
“What exactly do you mean, ‘dictated from above’?”
“Exactly as it sounds,” Roger answered.
“How far above?”
“The top.”
“Let me ask you this,” Brian said. “Does MMH Inwood own Premier Collections?”
“Why do you ask? What difference does that make? You owe what you owe.”
“I think it makes a lot of difference,” Brian argued. “And your response certainly confirms my suspicion. When you say policy is dictated from the top, I assume you mean the CEO, Mr. Charles Kelley?”
“Obviously,” Roger said as if progressively bored by the conversation. “He is the chief executive officer, after all.”
“So he must be really hands-on if he’s concerned about the nitty-gritty goings-on in the hospital, like collections and speeding up the process.”
“Oh, yes,” Roger said with emphasis. “Mr. Kelley is the man behind MMH’s financial success and massive building campaign. Both this campus and MMH Midtown have been totally renovated, bringing everything up to twenty-first-century standards. All that takes money, so Mr. Kelley has made us, the Business Department, feel as essential to the hospital mission as any other department. Charles Kelley is a superb businessman. Mark my words!”
“I’m beginning to think ‘ruthless’ might be closer to the truth than ‘superb,’ ” Brian said. “Did you know that I have already been served?”
“I did not,” Roger said. “But I’m not surprised. Once an account is moved to collections, I’m no longer involved.”
“I’d like to get you reinvol
ved and hold up the legal maneuvering. Why don’t you and I go back to talking about some kind of goodwill payment to carry us through this pandemic?”
“That’s not possible.” Roger shook his head firmly.
“Why not?”
“Mr. Kelley, the superb businessman he is, has insisted that Premier Collections operate as a separate entity even though owned by MMH Inwood. For accounting and tax reasons, Premier has bought your debt. I’m no longer involved, so you have to deal with them from now on.”
“But if Charles Kelley were to give you license to get reinvolved, would that work?”
“Obviously,” Roger said with a dismissive laugh, as if that was the most ridiculous idea he’d heard all day. “But that’s not going to happen.”
“How often does he come here?” Brian asked. He’d noticed that on all his recent visits to the MMH Inwood admin area, Charles Kelley’s office and its neighboring fancy conference room were empty.
“Not that often. Maybe once or twice a week. He’s mostly at his MMH Midtown office, which is a facility four times the size of this one.”
“Is he approachable?” Brian asked. “I mean, could I set up a meeting with him? As good a businessman as you think he is, maybe he should hear from someone in the community being adversely affected by his policies. Ultimately, he must be concerned about the hospital’s image in the community, which I think is suffering. I’ve learned I’m not the only one being sued.”
Roger laughed even harder than he had a moment earlier. “You would not be able to arrange a meeting with Charles Kelley,” he scoffed. “No way. His time is inordinately valuable. Besides, he doesn’t have the time to get involved with individual patient accounts.”
“Maybe he should be,” Brian insisted. “As a businessman in a service industry, I would think he’d be very interested in the hospital’s image. What do you think about me approaching him on my own?”
“He wouldn’t waste a minute talking with you,” Roger said. “I’m telling you: He’s a very, very busy man. Besides, you’d be taking a risk going up to him unannounced.”