Complicated Care (Blanche Binkley Book 2)

by Denise M. Hartman

  “Besides all the Medicare codes I gave you already?” He gave a dry chuckle. “And if I’m your assistant you’ll give me Rafael Angel? What have you got in mind?”

  “I’ve run into a rather tricky situation and have someone who needs a ticket off the island,” Blanche flinched at her own description.

  “As in a ferry ride?”

  “No, as in a place to live out old age in peace.”

  “I don’t think the paper is into that. Sounds expensive. Who is this person?”

  “A celebrity with some serious dirt to deal.”

  “Not my department, Celebs.”

  Blanche sighed.

  “I need to get my friends off the island and stop two crimes.”

  If she managed to get the Sun Sentinel via John Mateo to take out Señor Rafael, then the Funosa syndicate and or more to the point Antonio might not have to get involved. Of course she didn’t have any love loss for a Cuban crime gang, but she had developed an inexplicable liking for Antonio and hated to see him suffer or debase himself with killing. Was he really a killer?

  “Now you’re talking. What crimes?”

  She gave a really brief summary of Janice’s situation. “They can’t just force someone into a dementia wing if it’s not legitimate. It’s got to be a crime.”

  John sounded hesitant. “The family would notice if it wasn’t real.”

  “No family. Plus,” Blanche tried to sweeten the story, “they take your estate at a certain point if you don’t pay up and you die sooner than expected once that happens.” She heard him sigh.

  “Look, Ms. Binkley, they probably have paperwork from doctors and I’m sure the residents sign an agreement when they enter the center about payment and estates. It wouldn’t really qualify as a crime. Even if it was suspicious occasionally, the paperwork the person signed would indicate it’s not a crime.” He dismissed it completely. “Crime number 2?”

  Blanche realized she’d showed too much of the cards in her hand without proof. Now did she say the Sabitini family wanted to bully Greg? No proof. Plus she liked Frank too and hated to get him in trouble. He wanted to do his kids a favor. She had a pang of guilt about going to Tommy’s in the morning for a subpoena intervention. Parents and their kids.

  Maybe Frank wouldn’t hurt Greg. Or maybe Greg would stay away. It was so intricate.

  The other option would be to sell John some old guy named Tonio who wanted to kill Señor Rafael, if John didn’t hurry and break that story so the despot got caught pronto? Or illegal face jobs which he wasn’t interested in.

  None of it got Janice out of elder jail or Shirley out from under Carlos.

  “What about Royale Cove accepting a bribe from Señor Rafael?” Maybe if they shut the whole place down Edna could come back. She felt a qualm of doubt of what would happen to Shirley-Veda in that scenario. Everyone else out there had money or a place to go.

  John broke into her worried speculating.

  “Is that what’s happening?. But that was the first thing we talked about. Are we full circle here?”

  “What about busting open a massive Medicare fraud?” Blanche needed something to break somewhere.

  “Maybe. I could probably give that story to another staffer. You do have proof for that one?”

  “My source is one of the people who needs off the island. And a forensic accountant would help nail the proof too.”

  “So my proof will be inside of the head of a person past their prime and a really expensive potentially dead end look at Medicare accounting?”

  “I told you it was complicated.” She didn’t dare tell him the person past their prime was in the dementia wing too. “You’re sure there’s no money in the celeb department for a story?” She thought of the Dragon’s implication Shirley’s dad disappeared. That hardly would be breaking news after 60 plus years. “I think at least one crime is involved.”

  “You give me El Tigre and I’ll go to bat for your friend. I’ll make some calls. If the paper can’t do anything, I’ll find someone. I want El Tigre.” Someone spoke in the background behind John. He returned and said, “I’ll talk to you when you get back and see what you have. Send me some pictures of your pinochle partners, okay?”

  “Only if you send me something on El Tigre and Rafael.”

  “Fine.”

  Blanche hung up but it didn’t feel like progress. Royale Cove was not the happily ever after place. This week, Shirley would still be trapped in the skanky clutches of Carlos. Frank and Antonio would still be under the watchful deviant eye of Bruce the Bald.

  John wasn’t interested in Royale Cove just the despot Rafael and El Tigre the killer. Even if somehow Royale Cove got caught with their pants down helping the despot, they’d probably have paperwork like John said, saying Mr. Smith gets a facelift and they’d claim ignorance.

  None of this would spring Janice out of dementia jail.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Blanche walked around her house and turned on all the lights with neither calm nor a plan. Anxiety peaked. Night could be tense for her anyway but tonight her illogical fear left her quivering.

  Finally, she settled and opened her email and wanted to cry when she saw the airline ticket Tommy had purchased for her. It was the cheap one leaving at 5:30 a.m. She’d be lucky to have time to sleep at this rate. Hopefully no one else would knock on her door. Getting late for the condo crowd.

  John had delivered on his word and sent her new information on the Funosas and their connection to an El Tigre. They had been around a long, long time engineering crimes in Florida for decades. A picture box was at the bottom of the email. She hoped he’d sent her an El Tigre image, but for the life of her couldn’t remember how to look at the picture. She really needed to pack. She hoped she’d be able to access email while she traveled. She wasn’t sure how that worked.

  She sent Sharon at the Boca police department a note to ask what the police knew about someone called El Tigre and a Señor Rafael Angel Castellano. Sharon might be aggravated Blanche had canceled her volunteer work at the Boca Raton Police Department this last week and next. Since Blanche got tangled up in a police event now and then, they’d made Sharon from public information her liaison at the department. Blanche was proud of her inside source. On a whim she added the phone number from the Dragon’s phone to the end of the email.

  She spent a half hour crafting a letter, she corrected herself, email to Diane the Dragon. She groomed the words so they would hopefully linger in Diane’s brain. Blanche’s idea needed to show as an advantage for Diane personally. Shirley had stories to tell but needed assistance. A simple formula. Wouldn’t Diane like to be first to tell a story of bringing down Royale Cove Luxury retirement center due to mountains of fraud? That had to sell books or newspapers or whatever it was Diane did so secretly. Working with a law firm had given Blanche a great creativity and flexibility with official sounding words.

  Blanche said a prayer when she hit send that Diane would miraculously become sympathetic or more greedy or desperate and want one of these stories bad enough. She felt sorry for Shirley getting wallowed by Carlos. No one should have to live like that.

  Janice’s rescue seemed more difficult to imagine or engineer, but something would have to happen or Blanche couldn’t live with herself.

  Blanche knew she would rehash the day and then be worried about what Tommy had gotten himself into with the subpoena. She had spun all the tops in the circus tonight. Now, she would see if they danced and gave her a new tune.

  Since sleep was not likely she did a search on how to open pictures in her email set up. Seth her grandson had shown her but she needed a refresher. The idea seemed feasible as described online and she followed the instructions. John said it was a picture from the 1970s that he had turned up that could possibly be El Tigre. He wasn’t sure.

  Email felt addictive anyway. She always wanted to check one more time before she put the computer down.

  She followed the instructions and clicked on
the photo to see the image. “Holy crap.”

  Her hand shook as she reached for her cigarettes. It couldn’t be.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  “Let me ey-splain it to you again. I said you will bring this person.”

  Purple Passion the guy handling Señor Rafael’s business in Unit 2 leaned one butt cheek on Bruce’s desk and touched his things. Bruce wanted to appear relaxed and in control, but he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple despite the office air conditioning. Bruce didn’t want to admit Purple Passion man was making him sweat. He refused to let himself swipe at the drop creeping past his temple.

  He spread his arms wide, “All our services are at your disposal, but I cannot offer you my staff. I, of course, would look away should you make your own arrangements with a staff member.” He needed to extricate himself from this horrible situation. He had an alternate idea.

  “Señor Rafa is in need of female company and he has been looking out the windows. You will do as he wishes. We are paying.”

  “Look I can bring in a, uh, lady of the evening, a young lady even, who wants this kind of work.”

  The power hungry handler shook his bush of shiny black hair back and forth. “Señor does not pay someone.”

  Bruce nodded, hoping he had a solution in hand. He had never had someone in a secret convalescence demand sex favors from a staff member they saw out the window. They usually just imported what they wanted and didn’t talk to him.

  “Señor doesn’t go with those kind of ladies of the nighttime as you say. He has standards. He doesn’t sleep with anyone younger than his daughters. That’s why he wants her. The one with the lipstick.”

  Bruce tried to imagine having that conversation with any staff member. Was he suppose to say: we have a temporary guest who wants to have sex with you while his head is in bandages? Was that even safe? Perhaps he could get the medical staff to veto this.

  Of course, he could have Carlos ask to the ladies for a volunteer, but then Bruce wouldn’t be sure if it was a willing activity or not. Bruce did have standards too and he knew Carlos did not. He couldn’t face the idea of forcing a staff member into this situation. It could become a public relations nightmare if things went badly. Too much was at stake to risk drawing attention.

  “No. He wants the lady with the lipstick and the ponytail. Does she speak Spanish? I think sí.” He smiled his rough dental work peeking between wet lips.

  The Purple Passion described AnaRosa. A faithful hard working employee who cleaned johns without complaint and saw nothing on Unit 2. She had hung around longer than most. She was hyper-religious and he knew she couldn’t cooperate with these despots. He wouldn’t ask though. It was out of the question.

  Purple Passion spread the conciliatory smile wider, “I don’t want to make your life...uncomfortable.”

  Bruce ran a hand across his bald head. He felt the scratch of stubble and realized he’d swiped his sweat without realizing it. “Uncomfortable? This is a very uncomfortable idea. We can fulfill this...need in another way.”

  “Your peaceful life here would be disrupted so much if you were hurt in some way.”

  Bruce couldn’t believe they would make a personal threat. Who did they think he was? Some street thug? They came here for a medical procedure that cost a lot of money. This was not a street gang negotiation.

  Silence hung for so long that Bruce heard the ca-thunk of the elevator motor behind the wall while he stared at a yellow sticky note on his desk.

  “Señor thought you might be...reluctant since you American’s are so particular about rights and such. He has a second choice.”

  Bruce said, “Yes?” like a drowning man reaching for a rope. He hoped it wasn’t ...what? No other ideas worse came to mind.

  “There is a fancy lady among the residents.”

  Bruce felt his head redden. “Our residents are not a commodity to be traded. We respect your privacy during your stay and you need to respect theirs.”

  “Oh, it will be very private, I assure you. Señor does not like spectators.”

  “No, absolutely not. I cannot permit it.”

  “The old people they all, do the sneaky, sneaky bed hop, yes?” his dark eyebrows shot up.

  “That’s their choice.” Bruce heard his voice raise higher than he intended.

  “The blond lady who wears the sunglasses always. She is nice and she is of an age with Señor.”

  Bruce considered. They meant Veda Vespucci in the form of Shirley the RCCC free loading resident. This was do-able. Shirley could not and would not go outside of Royale Cove with her complaints. This might solve things. It made him feel unseemly somehow. But Carlos had Shirley-Veda in control. Movie stars didn’t care who they had sex with, right?

  “I see you still hesitate.”

  “No, no. I’m thinking.” Bruce didn’t want his one life preserver to slip away.

  “Or your good assistant Benita...?”

  “Benita?” Bruce glanced involuntarily at the door. “She’s...”

  “Your mother?”

  “How do you know that?” Fear rippled through Bruce.

  Purple Passion ignored Bruce. “For each day that Señor does not have some comfort for his appetites, and some company in his bored waiting, something unpleasant will happen at Royale Cove. Not today. We give you time today to make organized. ¿Me explico?”

  The oily young man patted Bruce’s bald head as he stood and straightened his suit.

  “The movie star lady. Or the lipstick lady. Or mama.”

  Desperation washed over him. Bruce was filled with distaste but he could force Shirley to play the role of Veda. He couldn’t ask a staff member. Bruce couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation. He was used to giving orders not taking them. It was outrageous and disgusting.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Blanche knew that John was a good reporter. She read the Sun Sentinel cover to cover every day. He was not a crack pot. He’d done her right the first time they’d interacted over Alina, a poor woman in the condo enslaved by thugs.

  But could he be right? She squinted through her cigarette smoke at the computer screen image.

  It didn’t seem possible that John didn’t know who the photograph was. John clearly wanted Blanche to take a look and see if this image looked like anyone she’d met on the island. It was a grainy shot from the 1970s of a suave Cuban man. It was mostly his back and he glanced over his shoulder. He had on those Elvis sized glasses.

  It was just something about the way he looked back over his shoulder that made Blanche feel sure. It was Antonio Funosa. The picture for sure was him. But was John’s research pointing at him as El Tigre accurate? Did John know already that the charming Antonio Funosa was indeed a mass murder? Or was it a guy who might be on the island and Tonio was Cuban and well...

  Could John just search the residents of Royal Cove Care Center? If their penchant for secrecy stayed consistent, that information would be hard to come by in the normal way. Maybe that’s why Frank and Tonio’s families put them there.

  It wasn’t that Blanche approved of mass murder if Tonio was indeed who John thought, but it was hard to believe. Tonio as womanizer and night club proprietor she could totally see. He was a Cuban rooster in Guyabara shirts, in every color, kissing the hands of ladies.

  He certainly had his own sense of justice. Blanche could not deny that. The description of school kids and nuns getting killed didn’t fit Antonio at all. It was too harsh for the man she knew.

  She didn’t like the idea of justice not being done in the world either. That disturbed her sense of order in the universe. Crimes needed punishment, right? That’s how it worked. People never came back from the grave but did the moment of justice cleanse something for those who had been wronged or the survivors?

  Blanche felt sure the story of El Tigre would be more complicated than an evil mass murderer, but she didn’t know if she would ever hear that story.

  Better if she had never left the
confines of her condo life. Blanche berated herself that she was an innocent, retired, Midwestern executive secretary who in truth knew nothing of the world.

  She couldn’t do anything about Tonio tonight or John Mateo the reporter for that matter. She decided she would wait and not say anything to John until she got back from her trip.

  She’d give Tonio a chance to speak for himself before she decided anything. She couldn’t alienate John either as he might be useful to help Shirley or Janice.

  Maybe she didn’t know the inner world of crime and intrigue, but she did know people. With all the ingenuity in the world, you couldn’t change them.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Blanche watched Tommy approach across the crowded baggage claim area. Every time she saw him, it startled Blanche to see Tommy’s fat middle aged belly. She didn’t know if he grew bigger every time she saw him or if she just forgot between times of seeing him.

  He might have a problem, but it seemed he wasn’t one of those gamblers who forgot to eat while at the tables. She had yet to call Tommy out on the gambling. Her heart skipped. Why could she confront bad guys and not a son with bad choices?

  “Hi, Mom.” He gave her a perfunctory shoulder squeeze and that was just fine with Blanche. They’d never been the touchy-feely family.

  Blanche had slept on the plane but still felt drowsy after little sleep last night. “You know someplace I could buy you a big breakfast?”

  “Sounds good.”

  They stopped at a diner that had a nice set of pancakes in front of Blanche in no time. She ate, inhaled the wonderful scent of black coffee, and tried to wrap her brain around the gambling and the subpoena. She hadn’t seen Tommy in person since she’d done a background search on her own son and discovered all kinds of ghastly financial secrets that probably a mother should not know. Even before she knew, each time he had asked for funds, she swore to herself she would quit bailing him out with money but then she’d give in again. That was before she knew the severity. It had to stop.