Worse Than Being Alone

by Patricia M. Clark

  “Ah. Well, she wouldn’t be the first. Is she here now?”

  “She’s probably in the waiting room,” Barbara said. “She comes in between classes and studies in there during the day. Then she brings the kids out late in the afternoon for a visit and then they all go home. She has power of attorney for her mom. At this point, the ex is not allowed in to see Beverly. Come on, I’ll go with you and introduce you.”

  “Thanks, Barbara,” I said as we left the unit and went across the hall to the waiting room.

  I spotted Meadow Knull as soon as we entered the room. It wasn’t because I’m smart or intuitive; she had her nose stuck in a book with Criminal Law plastered on the cover. My first impression was that Meadow Knull was very attractive but did everything possible to cover it up, as if she thought the world wouldn’t take her seriously if she happened to be beautiful. It seemed like a bad omen, and I wasn’t disappointed at how our first encounter unfolded.

  Barbara made a quick introduction and escaped. Meadow and I shook hands and she squeezed mine extra hard to let me know who was going to be top dog. I was convinced at that point my involvement would be limited to reviewing records.

  “Our ex-minister was named Talty?” she asked. “Any relation?”

  “You mean James Talty?”

  “Yes, that was his name,” she said. “We quit going to that Church because he’s an alcoholic. I can spot them a mile away.”

  “I guess we have that in common. He’s my ex-husband.”

  “I know your job is to save money and send people back to work,” Meadow said, the challenge in her voice unmistakable.

  “I don’t look at it that way. I think my job is to make sure people get the best care possible. Then they get better faster and go back to work sooner. In this situation, I try to help the adjuster understand the medical implications so she can set reserves. If you hadn’t hung up on her she would have explained all that to you.”

  “Why should I trust you?” she asked.

  I handed her my business card and said. “It’s not something I can talk you into to. You’ll have to trust your gut or whatever name you call it. The bottom line is that I’m not going to hurt you or your mother. So, if you want to talk, just call my cell. The adjuster wanted me to ask you where you wanted her to send the checks?”

  “Oh, tell her not to send them to the house,” Meadow said. “My father might try to steal them. Do you have another card I could write the address on?”

  I handed her another card and a pen. She scribbled the address, looked at me with the saddest blue eyes I had ever seen, and placed the card and pen back in my hand. Then she did the last possible thing I expected; Meadow started sobbing uncontrollably.

  Meadow Knull was about as tightly wound as anyone I had ever met. I rejected my initial response, which would have been to touch her arm to convey some sort of reassurance. I was convinced she was probably into kickboxing or martial arts. I was afraid to touch her for fear she would seriously kick my ass. The harder she tried to stop the tears from flowing the worse the deluge became.

  I reached in my bag, handed her a Kleenex, and said. “It must be hard to have to be in control every single minute of every day.”

  “You have no idea,” she said, wiping her cheeks.

  “You’re such a cynic. I think of myself that way too, but it took years for me to get this way. How do you account for that?”

  “You didn’t have Walter Knull for a father,” she said. “He’s an alcoholic just like your ex. The only time he comes around is if he thinks there might be some money he can steal. Look, you seem OK to me. I would appreciate it if you would send the checks to my boyfriend’s office. He’s a lawyer. I have power of attorney for my mother, so I’ll be making decisions as long as she’s unconscious. I’m in law school, too.”

  Laughing, I said. “That explains a lot. I’ll tell the adjuster. I’m sure it won’t be a problem. I worked in this unit for a couple of years so if you have questions or concerns, let me know.”

  “Do you think my mother will survive?” she asked.

  “I don’t think anyone can say for sure at this point. It’s very difficult to predict. I have certainly seen patients with burns as severe as your Mom’s survive. It usually comes down to complications. If her pneumonia resolves and she doesn’t develop kidney failure, she has a chance.”

  As I drove to our new office, located on the first floor of my condo building, I couldn’t stop thinking about Meadow. I had the feeling she could handle anything Walter Knull threw at her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “This is morning drive time on KATZ Radio, FM 105. Those severe thunderstorms last night ushered in a cold front so our high today is only expected to reach the upper 70s. Quite a change from the last couple of weeks of 90 plus temperatures. August comes in like a lamb. Enjoy St. Louis. Our next song is White Horse, by Taylor Swift.”

  “This ain’t Hollywood, this is a small town. I was a dreamer before you let me down. Too late for you and your white horse to come around,” Roni belted out the chorus while she waited in the back of a borrowed florist’s van.

  Roni had parked down and across the street from the home of Tommy Tauzin, a construction worker who had been off work for six months due to a work related neck injury. Two days earlier, Roni had received a phone call from Tommy’s adjuster, Lisa Madigan, who asked her to follow Tommy for a few days. When Lisa had called Tommy’s house to ask him a question about physical therapy, Tommy’s 10 year old son answered and told Lisa to call back because his father was putting a new roof on the house across the street.

  Tinted windows on the van shielded Roni from any inquiring eyes as she sipped the last of the coffee from her thermos and hummed along with Taylor. One of the most difficult problems Roni and Kitty encountered was finding vehicles to borrow that would allow them to accomplish tailing activities. They had even started renting non-descript white vans; anything to avoid using the same vehicle two days in a row for surveillance. That was a mistake most investigators seemed to make.

  Workers’ comp cheats usually fall into two categories: those who were blissfully unaware that any claim was ever questioned, or the hyper-vigilant, those who crane their necks constantly, assuming everyone was watching them. Roni remained on the fence about Tommy Tauzin. She had arrived at Tommy’s residence early the previous morning, driving Harley’s van.

  Tommy’s activities involved attending physical therapy and a trip to the grocery store. On the surface, Tommy didn’t seem like he was paying much attention but Roni had been fooled several times in the past. The only thing of interest occurred when Tommy arrived at therapy.

  Roni videotaped Tommy sitting in his car and putting a soft collar on his neck before he got out of his car. After therapy, he climbed in his car, removed the collar, and threw it in the back seat. At that moment, Roni realized Tommy wasn’t paying any attention and didn’t have concerns about being followed.

  Roni stared at the house where a large portable trash container full of used shingles sat on the driveway. Bales of unused new shingles had been placed on the roof, making Roni believe this was the house Tommy had been working on when Lisa Madigan had called.

  The mystery novel Roni had been reading just didn’t seem to catch fire, so Roni put it down and did some stretches, hoping the activity would keep her awake. The smell of fresh cut flowers lingered in the van despite the fact it was currently empty. Temperatures in the 70s allowed Roni to leave a few windows down slightly, which provided enough ventilation. The weather forecast called for rain the next couple of days. Roni figured if what Tommy’s son said was true, he should be coming to finish the roof.

  Roni was almost finished with her stretches when she heard a door slam and looked out the window just in time to see Tommy coming down his front walk carrying a big toolbox and wearing a tool belt. My Eureka moment, Roni thought, as she turned the radio off and checked the video camera that had been mounted on a tripod in front of one of the tinted s
ide windows of the van.

  Tommy crossed the street in front of the florist’s van and headed right for the front door of his neighbor’s house. No sooner had Tommy knocked than the door opened and a man with a coffee mug came out and started talking to Tommy. The neighbor walked over to the garage, pressed the keypad, and the heavy door started up. The man disappeared into the confines of the garage. Several minutes later, he reappeared carrying a ladder instead of the coffee mug. Tommy helped him prop the ladder against the garage.

  The neighbor went back in the garage one last time. When he reemerged, he was wearing a tool belt. Both men ascended the ladder and began installing the new shingles over black tar paper. Roni used a video camera to film Tommy’s activities, which included twisting his back and neck as he used a nail gun to install the new shingles. Roni would use the footage of Tommy wearing the soft collar to therapy against the video of him performing his usual job activities with no apparent difficulty. Roni was about to call Lisa Madigan when her cell phone chirped.

  “Hello,” Roni said.

  “Roni, it’s Dad,” he said, his voice sounding weak. “I’m sick. I’m going over to the doctor at Alton Memorial.”

  “What’s wrong, Dad?” Roni asked.

  “I’ve been throwing up all night.”

  “I thought your doctor was at St. Luke’s,” Roni said, referring to a St. Louis Hospital.

  “I’m going to Marian’s doctor over here in Alton now. Marian thought it was best.”

  “Since when does Marian decide what doctor you see?” Roni asked, trying unsuccessfully to suppress her sarcasm.

  “Now, Roni.”

  “Ok, Ok,” Roni said. “I’m right in the middle of something I can’t just drop. I should be able to wrap this up in an hour or so and then I’ll head over there. Call me after you see the doctor.”

  An hour later, Roni had obtained enough footage to end Tommy’s claim and headed over to Alton Memorial, thinking about her father’s sudden illness. Billy had called to tell her he was being admitted, which upped the ante for Roni. Billy seemed very vague about his symptoms. Something about some kind of home remedy Marian had suggested he start taking on their honeymoon. Roni was determined to get to the bottom of Billy’s sudden illness even if that upset Marian.

  The parking lot at Alton Memorial boasted the usual crush of cars near the entrances with most of the lot uninhabited. Roni parked as close as possible to the red emergency sign and trudged through the swishing doors to the desk. Informed that Billy had already been admitted, Roni took the elevator to the third floor. She stopped by the desk and almost lost it when the secretary told her Billy’s wife had left instructions to limit his visitors.

  Unwilling to confront Roni further, she went to find the head nurse to deal with the problem. An attractive chunky woman approached, but she lost her perky smile when she spotted Roni’s harsh glare. Her pace decreased until she appeared to be moving in slow motion.

  “I’m Mrs. Marsh,” she said as she held out her hand. “I understand you want to see Mr. Diamond.”

  “Yes, he’s my father,” Roni explained.

  “Mrs. Diamond has requested we limit visitors to immediate family.”

  “Well, except for Marian I’m about as immediate as it gets,” Roni said. “Are you really going to try to keep me from seeing him?”

  “Well, if you’re his daughter, I guess you would be considered immediate family.”

  “Good,” Roni said. “Now that we have that straight, what room is he in?”

  “He’s in room 312,” Mrs. Marsh said as she held her ground and pointed down the hall, unwilling to accompany Roni in case there was a confrontation.

  Billy Diamond, pale and heaving into an emesis basin, sat on the side of the bed, his scrawny white legs hanging over the side. He motioned Roni into the room, trying to catch his breath and stifle his gag reflex.

  Roni believed a man totally unfamiliar with medicine must have designed emesis basins. While they did fit nicely under the chin the small size was totally inadequate. Apparently, the idea was that the limited size would somehow make someone stop vomiting when the basin was filled. Roni shook her head, went into the bathroom area, and grabbed a washbasin from the cabinet.

  “When did you start vomiting?” Roni asked as she handed him the basin.

  In response, Billy leaned over and spewed vile green liquid into the container. Roni used the old nursing trick of breathing through her mouth to avoid smelling the foul stomach contents. That was how she managed to stifle her gag reflex.

  “Ok, I think I’m done for now,” Billy said as Roni took the basin and Billy decided to lie down.

  Roni looked at the green contents in the basin and asked. “What have you been eating?”

  “Marian believes in homeopathic medicine. We take a lot of herbal medicines.”

  “Maybe you should quit,” Roni said.

  “Marian says it wasn’t that. I had steak last night. She says my body was poisoned by meat.”

  “Dad, what the hell is going on?” Roni asked. “When did you start taking all this homeopathic crap?”

  “Now, don’t be mad, Roni,” Billy started as Marian glided into the room.

  “Billy, my love, I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” she said as she hugged him, put her heavily bejeweled hands on both sides of his face, and looked intently into his eyes. “I’m here to take care of you now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Roni thought Billy looked pale and pathetic before the little dynamo arrived, but he visibly shriveled up as she ministered to him.

  “Roni, it’s good to see you again,” she said as she glanced at Roni.

  “Roni,” Billy said weakly, a pleading expression plastered on his face.

  Unsure if Billy was sending her or Marian a message, Roni just stared at both of them, waiting for one of them to make the next move.

  “Well, I guess you’re wondering what’s going on,” Marian said. “I’ve been into homeopathic medicine for years. The doctor thinks one of them just didn’t agree with Billy’s delicate stomach. Everything is going to be fine. It’s no big deal. Billy won’t be taking that herb anymore.”

  “What herb was Billy taking?” Roni demanded as Billy began heaving again.

  Roni watched in fascination as Marian ran into the bath area, wet a washcloth, and hustled back to the bedside so she could wash Billy’s face. Marian talked non-stop and Roni felt as if Marian might be a master at sucking the air out of a room. Billy finally settled down and fell asleep several minutes later.

  “Why don’t we talk outside?” Marian suggested as Roni followed her out into the hall.

  “Look, Roni, this is no big deal,” Marian said. “Billy is going to be fine.”

  “I’ll feel a lot better if I talk to Billy’s doctor,” Roni said as Marian frowned.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Marian said.

  “I don’t think that’s for you to decide,” Roni said.

  “I don’t want to this to get ugly, but Billy is my husband now. I decide what’s best for Billy. I think you’d better back off. I can make life difficult for you if I choose to. I don’t think you really want to make me your enemy, Roni.”

  “Roni,” a plaintive voice called from inside the room. Roni went back into the room, followed closely by Marian.

  “I’m fine Roni,” Billy said.

  Roni stayed for several more minutes, finally needing to escape for a while, unable to tolerate Marian’s hovering and smothering routine. As she passed the desk, Roni spotted Betty Marsh and caught her attention.

  “Look,” Roni said uncertainly. “I need to know who my father’s doctor is. Frankly, I’m worried about him taking all this herbal crap.”

  “You need to talk to Dr. Burnett,” Betty said as she wrote a number on a card and handed it to Roni. “When he was here this morning he said he had some concerns about what herbal meds your dad has been taking. He said he talked to Marian about it, but she just l
aughed and dismissed him with a wave of her hand.”

  “Do you think my dad’s in danger?” Roni asked.

  “I’m not sure I’d go that far. Just call Dr. Burnett, OK. He can answer that question a lot better than I can.”

  A burning rage accompanied Roni to her car, where she got behind the wheel, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed Dr. Burnett’s number. After talking to Dr. Burnett for several minutes, Roni pressed end and called Kitty.

  “Kitty, I’m mad as hell and I don’t know what to do about it,” Roni said.

  “Whoa, slow down. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I know I told you not to say anything about Marian,” Roni said. “I thought I should back off and let him be happy. Now I’m worried I was wrong and it might come back to bite me in the ass. Billy is sick as a dog. Marian is into homeopathic medicine and has been giving him herbal medicine. He’s at Alton Memorial.”

  “Wow, I didn’t see that one coming. So, do you think she’s trying to poison Billy or what?”

  “I don’t know,” Roni said. “I talked to his doctor. He thinks Billy took some kind of herbal concoction. He’s not a big fan of homeopathic medicine. He said there’s no way to test for a lot of herbal medicines. He seemed to think it was all fairly innocent.”

  “Obviously you don’t. How can I help?”

  “Tell me what you really think about Marian,” Roni said.

  “I think she’s an evil bitch. I’m worried about Billy. I think he was just really lonely when he met Marian. Sometimes people make bad choices when that happens. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Just talk to me,” Roni said. “I knew you weren’t a big Marian fan and only kept your mouth shut because you’re my friend and I asked you to.”

  “It’s a big leap from not liking her to thinking she’s actually trying to harm Billy.”

  “So, you think I’m overreacting?” Roni asked.