Chapter 15
Before leaving Dayton, Bev called Cici Rittenhaus and asked if she had time for lunch. Cici said she had just put in an order for Chinese food and could add another lunch if Bev were interested. Bev asked for kung pao chicken and said she'd be there in twenty minutes. Bev arrived at the PI's office at the same time as the delivery person. She paid for the lunches in the parking lot and walked into the office holding out the sack, “Lunch has arrived!”
Frank was passing through the foyer and said, “Wow, a full service adjuster!”
They ate in the conference room, making small talk. Bev hated to talk business while eating. When they had finished eating, Cici cleared the table and left the room for a minute. She came back with coffee and a “talking points” list. Bev watched her without saying anything for a few minutes, then she cocked her head to one side and said, “Why do I have the feeling you've got something.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I have some information on some of Prescott's patients, but in a way it almost confuses the issue more than ever. We know about the two lawsuits. There were also several claims that were settled by his insurance company. I don't know how much they settled for. I do know the settlement amounts left a bad taste in everybody's mouth. Prescott was pissed because the carrier paid the claims; the claimants were unhappy with the amount of the settlements. As I said, I have been told – but I haven't been able to verify it – that his malpractice carrier recently notified him that it would no longer insure him for facial surgery. He could still do boobs and liposuction, etc., but no face lifts or nose jobs. I think that may have been a compromise after the company's initial threat to non-renew the policy.”
Bev nodded and made a note to follow up with Casey on whether or not the cops had verified that.
Cici continued, “Prescott has quite a collection of unhappy patients and evidently his practice was suffering from the bad buzz. I think that is not necessarily related to the fire, but it's certainly an interesting point. Prescott may have had some financial problems. Maybe he owed somebody money. I'm looking into that.
“Looking at his list of unhappy patients who had not made any claims or filed any lawsuits, I came up with two interesting cases. One is a model for whom Prescott did an eye job. She's oriental and she wanted her eyes to look a little more round. Prescott botched the job and she ended up looking a little pop-eyed. Needless to say, her career suffered as a result. She now does hand modeling and other photo modeling that show parts of her body other than her face. She consulted an attorney but has not filed anything, nor has she even made a demand to the insurance company. The reason I mention her is because her family has some interesting contacts with Chinese people on the west coast. I haven't dug into it very deeply yet, but if she were interested in going after Prescott outside the insurance/legal arena, I think her family might have the contacts to do it.
“The other interesting case that has not progressed in the way I would have expected is the daughter of a prominent obstetrician. She went to Prescott for a nose-job, against her father's wishes. Prescott not only botched the nose, but she ended up with an infection that required lengthy treatment before she could even have surgery to correct the original mess. Her parents sent her to LA for treatment by one of the plastic-surgeons-to-the-stars. That course of treatment took more than a year, and they say her nose still isn't quite right. As far as I can tell, they have not consulted an attorney or contacted Prescott's malpractice carrier. That seems odd to me. They would not be the kind of people who would ordinarily let such a thing go without at least seeking payment for the medical bills.”
Bev and Frank both nodded. Frank leaned forward, “Any indication that Daddy has any friends in low places?”
Cici shook her head and doodled on her paper, “Haven't got that far yet, but evidently the mother was heard to say, while slightly tipsy at a charity luncheon, that she would see Prescott in hell for what he did to her daughter. She evidently told someone that she wasn't interested in money. She had plenty of money and insurance to pay for her daughter's bills. She wanted revenge.”
Bev tapped her pencil eraser on the table and scrunched her nose, “That might bear looking into a little, but I'm guessing that tipsy doctor's wives make all kinds of outrageous statements at charity functions.”
Cici nodded, “I know they do. I've done enough marital investigations to know that you do not want to even know the kinds of things rich people threaten to do, especially when there's alcohol involved. Anyway, I'm going to dig a little deeper.”
Bev made some notes, “Here's the thing: even if it turns out that none of Prescott's patients is behind this fire, by raising that issue and casting some questions as to Prescott's character and potential involvement, we can maybe buy some time to find out who really set this fire. For now, let's just keep stirring the pot.”
Cici nodded. Bev asked, “You got anything from the cops?”
Cici shook her head and made a disgusted gesture with her hand, “Nada. They're playing this one very close to the chest. The local crime lab guys, who are usually very cooperative with me, are intimidated by the FBI and the insurance company both breathing down their necks. They've clammed up completely.”
Bev made another note. “I'll see if Ed Casey will have better luck.”
Frank said, “I'm done with my part. Later this week, I will send you a report with a brief profile of each of the people who was in the building the night of the fire. You didn't ask for that, but while I was investigating, I compiled all that information. You're going to need it for settlement and/or trial purposes anyway, so I will provide you what I know.”
“Good. My coverage counsel is working with some forensic bean counters to try to conjure up some kind of settlement that might stick. They'll like that. Now, I want you to focus totally on finding Denworth. I want to know everything about him. Most importantly, I want to know where he is.”
They stood up and shook hands all around.
While driving home, Bev called Emily. “Hey, there. What are you up to?”
“Doing homework.”
“Homework? Immediately after school. Excuse me, do I know you. May I please talk to Emily?”
“Very funny, Mom. Actually, I'm trying to get better about doing my homework right after school because I'm going to have so many evenings when I'll have practice or games or whatnot. I'm starting to get worried that I've bitten off more than I can chew here.”
Bev laughed, “I feel that way most of the time! Since you're cheerleader and you need to stay in shape and since I feel like a slug from sitting on my butt in meetings and in the car all day, I was wondering if you have time for a bike ride when I get home before dinner.”
“Sounds good. When will you be home?”
“Forty-five minutes. It'll take me a few minutes to change. Can you make a decent dent in your homework in an hour? Do you have practice tonight?”
“Actually, I'm almost finished with the homework. I want to start studying for my midterms in a couple of weeks. I'm already stressing about the chemistry exam. I'll be ready for a break in an hour. I have practice at 7:00, which should give us a couple of hours to ride. Instead of a regular dinner, I think I'll have a power bar and some milk. I'll eat some carbs later when I get home.”
“Carbs as in rice or pasta as opposed to french fries or chips?”
“Yes, ma'am. With all the exercise I'm getting, I'm going to concentrate on my diet. I know it pisses you off – and everybody else I know – but you know I'm one of those people who has trouble keeping my weight up. I'm going to be careful to eat well so I can built muscle and not lose weight.”
“I hate you.”
“You and everybody else. All the other girls on the squad are dieting and obsessing over the size of their butts. I'm eating like a horse.”
“You know that you have to eat protein to build muscle and you have to eat carbs for energy. All that crash dieting is bullshit.”<
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“I know. I also know that we are the only people of any of my friends who consult with a nutritionist.”
“Becca is my friend, but she is also a great resource.”
“Beats getting your diet information from teen magazines.”
“I shudder to think what kind of advice you get from those magazines.”
“Basically as I understand it, the message is that you should eat nothing, wear skimpy clothes, put on makeup with a putty knife and be as sexy as possible to attract boys.”
“Spare me the details.”
“Trust me, I don't waste my time on that crap. I'll be ready when you get home.”
Bev turned off her phone and turned up the music in the car, enjoying the ride home through the serene western Ohio countryside, which was just beginning to show the first indications of the glorious fall that was to come. The trees were beginning to turn yellow and bronze. In about three weeks, they would be at the peak of their color. She made a note to see if Emily would have time to do another weekend bike ride at the end of the month.
Emily was ready when she got home. Bev changed quickly and they rode hard for an hour, concentrating on keeping up a fast pace. For the first time, Bev found herself struggling a little to keep up with Emily; Bev had always been the stronger rider. She rather liked Emily's new focus on health and fitness. It would be a good habit for her to get into. It would also push Bev to work harder. On the way home, they slowed down and rode side-by-side. Emily chatted about school and the cheer leaders. Bev was amused to notice that Emily was actually quite objective on the subject of the cheerleaders. She did not seem to be overly impressed with any of the girls on the squad, and in fact seemed to dislike most of them.
Bev listened and finally interrupted Emily, “I'm sorry to ask this, but I'm curious. Why did you go out for the squad? You're not really the type. You don't seem to be on board with the program or even particularly like the girls? What's up with that?”
Emily thought about it for a while, “Well it was kind of something that started as a sort of joke, and then got out of hand. When I decided to move out of my Goth mode and start looking like a normal kid, I thought it would be a good idea to get involved in some activities at school. You know I always loved gymnastics, but I quit when I hit puberty and grew six inches in one year. I'm too tall for competitive gymnastics, so I gave it up. I was watching the cheerleaders practice one day and realized that a lot of what they do are really cool gymnastics mixed with some dance stuff that I thought might be fun. I actually went to the tryouts mainly to learn the routines. I never expected to make the squad. My Goth and nerd friends are all aghast at the very idea, but they all think it's joke.
“As it turns out, I've decided it's not a joke. Yeah, I'm not too crazy about most of the girls on the squad. They're silly and giggly and they do all the things that give teen-aged girls the bad reputation we have. They are also catty, mean and backstabbing bitches at times. I'm trying to steer a careful course that is friendly without being too familiar, if you know what I mean. But, I'm going to stick with it for a couple of reasons. First of all, the routines are just too much fun! I love doing the jumps and the dance routines. I think it might be fun to enjoy football games from the sidelines instead of the stands. I'm having a ball with that part of it.
“The second reason is one of the assistant coaches. The main coach is the PE teacher. She's really a good choreographer and she's a good dance teacher. I'm learning a lot from her. The assistant is a lady with an interesting story. She was a cheerleader in high school and in college. She owned a studio where she taught dance and cheer. I think she even had some squads that competed nationally. Now, her kids are grown. She sold the business and she retired. After a few years of playing with her grandchildren and putzing around the house, she came back and started working with Ms. Price on training the squad. She's a great gymnastics teacher. She's also a really nice lady who's very inspiring and encouraging. She kind of picked me and a couple of other kids for special help. It paid off. All three of us made the squad. I like her. I think she'll be one of those teachers I'll keep in touch with.”
Bev cleared her throat and smiled, keeping her eyes on the road, “You are so lucky to have found a teacher/coach who inspires you. They are rare indeed these days.”
“Yeah. I know. Most of my teachers are ... well, the less said about them the better. Anyway, are you okay with me doing this?”
Bev made a face and nodded, “I didn't like the idea at first. I came away from high school with a bad taste in my mouth about cheerleaders and the rah-rah school-spirit girls in general. In the olden days, cheerleaders were not really athletes; they were just a bunch of snobby girls who went out on Friday nights to shake their booties in front of boys. It was kind of disgusting. As a book-nerd, social outcast, I was not impressed. These days, however, the cheer squads are actually made up of athletes who contribute something to the entertainment and excitement of the football games. I'm okay with that. I like the fact that you're getting such great exercise and I can tell you're getting stronger already. I just don't want you to get caught up in it too much.”
“I don't think you need to worry about that. Having spent the last two years as a social outcast with the Goths and computer nerds, I'm not likely to become Homecoming Queen any time soon.”
Bev laughed, “You never know!”
As they rode by Bev's dad's family farm, a truck turned into the driveway and stopped. An old man got out and walked to the mailbox. He tipped his hat at Bev and Emily, then he did a double-take and put out his hand in a gesture asking them to stop. Bev pulled over to the side of the road and stopped, saying, “Hank?”
He nodded, standing awkwardly with the mail in his hand. Bev realized that their biking attire was not something he would have considered appropriate. He said, “You're Beverly, aren't you?”
“Yes. This is my daughter, Emily.” She turned to Emily saying, “This is my dad's younger brother, Henry. Dad called him Hank.”
Emily said she was pleased to meet him and called him “Uncle Hank.” He seemed both pleased and embarrassed by that familiarity.
There were a few more awkward moments. Hank filled Bev in on the family. He didn't ask about her life. After a few minutes, Bev put her foot back on the peddle and prepared to resume her ride. He stepped towards her and said, “It's probably kind of forward of me to say this, but I want you to know that we have been very interested in how you are have been handling this fire investigation.” He laughed and made a silly face, “We had a barn fire a few years ago and the insurance company gave us a really hard time and never actually paid the whole claim. Left a bad taste in everybody's mouth about insurance companies.” He shook his head, and went on, “I know Ron Mazzoli. I never ate in his restaurant, but we used to buy Claudia's homemade Italian sausage and Claudia sometimes asked Betty to bake special cakes for anniversaries and birthdays at the restaurant. The Mazzolis are good people who are down on their luck. I'm glad you are treating them fairly.”
Bev smiled and said, “I agree with you. I think they're nice people. I'm doing my best to be fair to everybody.”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her with her father's robin's-egg blue eyes with the crinkly smile lines at the outer corners. “Just thought you should know that it's been noticed.”
“Thanks.” That was all she could say around the lump in her throat. Looking into her uncle's eyes was comforting, but it kicked up a wave of grief for her father that almost overwhelmed her. They rode away, waving back at him. He stood by the mailbox watching them.
After they were well out of ear-shot, Emily asked, “Was that weird, or what?”
Bev replied, “That was too strange to even try to figure out right now.”
“I didn't think any of that family had anything to do with you.”
“They never have. Who knows? Maybe the old generation that was so angry with my dad is all gone now
. Maybe the bitterness has abated a little in the last sixty years. Then again, maybe that was not so much about me as a family member but about Uncle Hank supporting his friend, Mr. Mazzoli. Either way, I thought it was very nice of him.”
“He looks like Grandpa.”
“So much that it was hard for me to look him in the eye.” Bev cleared her throat and picked up the pace to a speed that prevented further conversation.
When they got home, Emily changed for practice. Bev dropped her at the school, stopped by the grocery store for some odds and ends, and tried to ignore the looks from some of the other customers and employees that ranged from the impatiently curious to openly hostile.
The next day Bev went to Morehouse's office and attended to her email for a while. Ben Tucker reported that the cops were no closer to finding Denworth than Bev was. He did say that she soon could expect a formal identification of the last body as Donna Sonderland. Dominic Pariente wanted to schedule a meeting with her and Paul in order to get ramped up to defend the lawsuits that were piling up. Peters had given her an unlimited extension on the lawsuits he had filed. Some of the other attorneys were not being so cooperative.
She walked down the hall to Paul's office and leaned against the door. “Mornin'. You got a second?”
He looked up from his mail. “Yeah. Actually I need to talk to you.” He held up a stack of letters, “The demand letters and lawsuits continue to roll in.”
She took the stack and shuffled through it. “Okay. We're going to need to have a meeting with Pariente. I know that's not going to be easy for you, but he is a good litigator and his office has the staff and resources to run litigation on the scale we're facing. You're going to be the out-front guy, but he'll be running things from behind the curtain.”
“I understand. I don't like it, but we both know I don't have the litigation experience to handle this.” He smiled, raised his eyebrows and winked, “If I play my cards right, I might actually learn something.”
“Oh, my God, an attorney who can admit that there may be something he doesn't know? How is that possible?”
He flipped her off and told her to get out of his office. She asked him to send her his availability for the meeting with Pariente. He said, “Bev, I'm available whenever and wherever you need me to be. I'm putting nearly everything else aside to work on this case. The more I get to know Ron and Claudia Mazzoli, the better I like them. I know that you may very quickly tender your limits and then you'll be out of the whole thing. I'm in this for the long haul.”
She smiled and said, “I plan to be in it as long as I can justify it to my company. You're right, that may not be very long. I'm glad you're going to stick with them. In the long run, I think that will help your career in this town. I know a lot of people – especially people to whom the Mazzolis owe money – think that he's guilty and should go to jail. Even more people think that the Mazzolis are good, upstanding people who got caught in an economic downturn but who did not set the fire that burned their family business and killed their neighbors, employees and some of their own family members. I happen to agree with the latter group. I think as time goes on, the community will rally around them. Your business will benefit from your loyalty, I think.”
He curled his lip and said, “I sure hope so because Ron and Claudia can't pay me anything.”
After the Fire Page 15