by Adam Zorzi
Bella decided she'd follow that up in Ms. Tandy's notes.
“Anything else about safety that hasn't been addressed?”
“Medical treatment. Patients injured during beatings weren't taken to the ER. We did the best we could, but we had no way of checking for internal injuries or splinting broken bones.”
“Anything else?”
“Suicides could have been prevented. We were never told if patients were suicidal so they weren't under surveillance for the first few days of their stay. All of the ones that were later found to be suicidal at intake killed themselves.”
Bella was horrified. “All of them?”
“All of the ones I knew about. They're in my notes.”
“Ms. Tandy, why did you leave under a settlement agreement?”
“That's supposed to be confidential, but I'm going to tell you. I was disgusted with what they were doing. I compiled a report on every doctor there. I was going to take it to the Professional Licensing Board. One of the aides ratted me out. The next thing I know, I'm sitting in the state's HR in a state office building with a state attorney asking me to sign a document. My privileges at Commonwealth Psychiatric Hospital had been suspended during their so-called investigation into my performance. It was found to be unsatisfactory and my nursing license was going to be revoked. I could never practice in this state again. With a revoked license, I'd never practice anywhere again.”
That was both stupid and harsh on the part of the state. “What did they propose as an alternative?” Bella asked.
“I would retain my license. In consideration of my nearly twenty-five years of service, they would pay my regular salary and benefits until I reached the retirement date, accept my retirement application, and pay me $10,000 for any expenses I might have incurred during my investigation.”
“What expenses did you incur?” Bella was puzzled.
“None. They thought I'd consulted an attorney. I should have, but I thought the Licensing Board would at least hear me out. They didn't ask for any bills. They just picked $10,000 as the amount I might have incurred and showed me the door.”
“I see,” Bella said. She hoped this story had a decent ending.
“Where do you work now, Ms. Tandy?”
“I'm the supervising care manager for three private nursing homes owned by the Presbyterian church. My patients and their families get excellent care.”
“Thank you, Ms. Tandy. That concludes the deposition of Annette Tandy.” Bella stated the date, time, and location once again for the record.
She'd have to tell Opal to reschedule the remaining nurses. She couldn't do three of these per day.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Bella held back tears.
The years had not been kind to her friend. A slim thirty-five year old was now an emaciated forty-five year old woman who hadn't seen the sun or the inside of a Saks for five years. No matter how she looked, her brain was a sponge for politics. Offered a weekly column after ten years as the lead political correspondent for a network, she knew that meant her over-forty face could only be seen on TV once a week and pre-empted for virtually anything determined to be newsworthy, such as celebrity birthdays.
She launched HUP/dc, a political blog where she followed the news she wanted and made her opinions known. Hollywood for Ugly People/dc started with 35 subscribers and within six months had 40,000. She was a legal junkie. The Supreme Court, appellate courts, county courts. Even tax court. Despite news updates at least every day, HUP/dc had never once offered a correction or retraction. She was accurate, wicked, and deadly.
Sitting on a bench near the gym at American University, she chain-smoked until her informant arrived.
“Who, what, when, where, and how?” She put her hand out for the USB drive. Bella handed her a manila envelope too.
“Fourth Circuit judge. Owns one-third interest in child pornography network, last ten years, brothels in Las Vegas, New Orleans, and Laredo—that's in Texas. Through a server in Ottawa. Likes to sample the boys and take selfies. Stomach churning and heartbreaking.”
“Legit?”
“I was at the scene of the blackmailer's OD.”
“In?”
“Nevada.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago. Chalked up as another junkie OD. Cops didn't bother to take the computer holding the treasure.”
The blogger blew out a long puff of smoke. “A federal appeals court judge.” She shook her head.
“Nothing shocks you.” Bella knew this woman was even more cynical than herself.
“This,” she said emphatically. “This does. When do I upload?”
“Sunday at eleven o'clock. He goes to mass with his wife. Media should be waiting for him when he comes out of the church. Photographs are always nice, especially since he has a fondness for pictures of himself.”
“Done. Gives me enough time to confirm the story.”
“As you wish.”
“Hey.” She put out her cigarette. She looked directly into Bella's eyes. “This is important. No one should mess with kids. Thanks.”
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
October
“Opal, you have no idea how much time you've saved us,” said Bella when Opal presented her with a stack of papers representing the minutes of the Local Human Rights Committee monthly meetings. The LHRC was charged with overseeing protection of patients' civil rights at Commonwealth Psych and reported their monthly findings to the State Human Rights Committee. If Mark could show there were abuses at the hospital that the LHRC knew about and didn't correct, then it was reasonable to claim that the state knew. Either the state read and approved the lack of action or didn't read the minutes. Either way, the state had dropped the ball. Drop the mic.
“Printing them took more time than finding them. It's really hard to believe how easy it is to get stuff from the state.”
“As I said, Opal, these are public documents but we have to file a request to get them. That request gets shuffled around, temporarily lost, and finally lands on someone's desk on top of two years worth of previous requests. I know you're the best, but they probably have very little security around them.”
“None,” Opal responded.
“Ah,” Bella said. “It's worse than I thought.”
“Even these,” Opal presented a smaller stack of paper, “weren't protected.”
Bella scanned the title. “The closed Executive Sessions that are supposed to be secret?”
Opal nodded.
“Opal, you are a gem. No pun intended.” Bella paused. “Do you even like opals?”
“I don't know. I've only seen one as a birthstone ring and it was tiny.”
She'd lost some of her defenses. After realizing Mark and Bella really were the good guys in this case and thought highly of her work, Opal had relaxed. She worked with intense concentration and lost almost all her attitude. Her wardrobe was still quirky, but no longer appeared to be a warning signal not to mess with her or an invitation for an anonymous quickie.
“Why don't we go to the Museum of Fine Arts? There's an Australian sculpture exhibit there now. The largest opals in the world are in Australia. We could go and have dinner afterwards. There's always jazz on Saturday nights.”
“The museum? Bella, do you only go to stuffy places?”
Bella laughed. Not her man-charming laugh, but still delightful. “There's nothing stuffy about an Australian anything. You have to eat. Why not do it someplace new? You'll be done in plenty of time to hit the clubs.”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly.
“Opal, we'll go. If you hate it, you can leave. We have a date for dinner Saturday?”
“Date.”
***
Mark pulled Bella into his office late Friday morning. “I've got something to show you,” he said. His eyes danced with mischief.
Bella looked around the room. Nothing had changed. No new file folders lying on the desk. No new computer. St
ill no rug.
“Our opponent surrendered and you had the document framed.”
“No, if that happened, the office would be closed and the three of us would be on a plane to Fiji.”
“I give up,” she said and leaned against his glass-topped desk.
“It's not in the office. I have to take you somewhere to see it.”
“Now?”
“Tomorrow night. About ten o'clock.”
She purred. Bella quite liked the idea of meeting Mark somewhere mysterious late in the evening.
“I have plans, but I'll be finished by then.” She wanted Mark to wonder what her plans were even if they were with Opal. “Where should I meet you?”
“The Jefferson Hotel. It's a charity thing, but I'll be done by ten.”
“Is this something at The Jefferson?”
“Maybe.”
She toyed with him. “Will I be blindfolded?”
“Maybe.”
“Will I keep all my clothes on?” Her expression never changed, but Mark's faced flushed.
“Maybe.”
“That's an awful lot of maybes. Not a single yes. Is this going to be worth my time?”
“Yes.”
“Then I'll meet you at The Jefferson.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Set against the brocade red and gold velvet furnishings of The Jefferson Hotel lobby, Bella looked demure in a body conscious, champagne just off-the-shoulder cocktail dress and silk sandals. She stood idly by the sweeping staircase that had inspired the famous one in Gone with the Wind waiting for Mark. When he started down the steps, he saw her and mouthed, “OMG.” He was surrounded by young women in evening clothes that looked like prom dresses or mother-of-the-bride wear. They actually stumbled into each other when they saw Bella.
Mark continued down the stairs and took Bella's hand when he reached the lowest step.
“You really are sex on a stick. Do you realize that dress makes you look completely naked from a distance?” he whispered in her ear and took time to nuzzle her neck.
“No, I had no idea. It's a perfectly conservative dress. I've just come from the museum and no one suggested I was improperly dressed.”
He laughed out loud, and his eyes crinkled in the way she loved.
“Mark, you've left your harem behind. They seem to be stuck slack-jawed on the staircase. They can't move. Was this a bachelor auction?”
He laughed again. They reached the parking valet and waited for Mark's car to be brought around.
“If the Richmond newspaper still had a society column, you'd be the hottest topic. Naked mystery woman crashes charity event in the gracious lobby of the venerable Jefferson Hotel.”
“Oh, Mark.” Bella laughed in delight. “Don't you think that lobby is a bit much? It looks like a bordello. I expect Rhett Butler to scoop up Belle Watling rather than Scarlett O'Hara and carry her to his bed.”
The car was brought around, Mark opened the passenger door, and she slid in. He put the top down and she whipped an ethereal chiffon scarf out of her purse to wrap around her hair. They didn't speak during the trip. Once again, Bella found driving so fast and so much over the speed limit to be intoxicating. She wanted to fly down highways forever in a convertible.
They pulled into Mark's garage and he led her into the house.
“I've been here before,” she said with exaggerated disappointment.
“That was the before. Now, you'll see the after.”
She looked around. In the few days since she had told him to make himself a home, he had. The walls were painted in greys and whites. There was a glass-topped dining room table with seating for eight. The kitchen had small appliances, utensils, and an herb garden on the counter. The rear patio was landscaped with a privacy hedge and furnished with seating for a casual party.
She floated up the suspended staircase to the second floor, which now had a fully furnished living room and two guest bedrooms. The living room had a media center, comfortable leather couches and chairs, and throws tossed over ottomans. Modern paintings and sculpture were strategically placed and lit throughout the house. A framed photo of Carlton's Macho was the single personal touch.
Up another level was the master suite with a sitting area. Everything was designed with flawless contemporary furnishings highlighting the gleaming burled maple furniture and drew attention to the outdoor deck. Again, there was a privacy hedge, but low enough not to obstruct the view of the river and the city. Lounge chairs were strategically placed. The master bath was a spa.
“It's beautiful, Mark.”
“No traces of a monastery?” He looked earnest.
“None. A hedonist who does things when he sets his mind to it. One who just needs a push.”
Mark pulled her close to him. The smell of him aroused her.
“I know exactly what I want. I want you.”
She unbuttoned his top two shirt buttons and ran her forefinger with its scarlet nail down his neck to his chest. She hadn't touched a virile handsome man in ages. Running her fingers along his skin was like catnip to her. She wanted more. Now.
“Do you have on anything at all under that dress?” he asked.
“I don't recall. Why don't you check?” She whispered in his ear. The smell of him was intoxicating.
He unzipped the back of the dress and it fell to the floor. Bella was completely naked down to her Brazilian wax. He moaned as she stood before him. Beautiful, confident, inviting. Her body was both toned and luscious. She wanted him to look at her. Were this not their first time, she could make him climax without touching her. She wanted him. Those hands on her. His mouth. The weight of him. Everywhere.
He yanked off his clothes and she set herself free.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bella heard Mark moving around in the kitchen while she lounged in bed. The aroma of rich coffee floated from the first floor through the empty space surrounding the stairs to the bedroom. She rolled over and lay on her side. What a delicious lover he was. He’d treated her body with reverence. And desire. And urgency.
He seemed surprised that she’d matched him in every way and willingly followed his lead. She'd decided letting him take the lead was best. She could just relax, but he stirred something in her that made her want to show him he could up his game and she'd be right there with him.
They'd pleasured themselves throughout the night. Whispering occasionally. She'd kept her blue eyes wide open when they climaxed simultaneously. Throughout, she’d been sensuous, erotic, and amorous. She didn't like or want lewd, bawdy, or rough sex. Apparently, neither did Mark. She was surprised he was a skilled lover. He certainly hadn't learned that with a deb. Somewhere in his life, there was a woman who'd known what she was doing.
“You're up early,” she said when he came into the room. “It's Sunday. The time for sleeping late, rolling around in bed, and reading the paper in bed.”
“What about watching politic talk shows?”
“Please tell me you don't watch those. All that shouting over each other.”
“No, I don't.” He kissed her. “Bella, last night was like a whole new dimension for me. I've never been loved so thoroughly and sensually.”
“Thoroughly? Does that mean we're done? There's nothing left?” she teased.
“We're just getting started.”
“Good,” she whispered.
“Tell me about that rolling around in bed part of a Sunday morning. I'd like to get the hang of that.”
***
Bella was pretending to be in the shower when Mark heard the news about Judge Paul Whiting of the United States Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals. Mark was talking back to the TV in the kitchen. She took her time dressing. She'd had the foresight to bring a change of clothes. She was just applying the final touches of makeup when Mark bounded into the room.
“You've got to see this. Come on.” He grabbed her by the hand and raced down one flight of steps to what was now the official living room with beige le
ather sofas, soft grey walls, and a flat screen TV.
“What's this?”
She saw a camera following Judge Whiting and his wife down the steps of their church. He used what looked like a prayer book to shield his face from reporters as he fled into the back seat of a black sedan with his wife in tow. She looked confused and terrified. Reporters ran after the car, shouting.
Mark couldn't contain himself. “Judge Whiting is a partner in a child pornography ring. Making at least two million in untaxed dollars every quarter. He also apparently likes the boys. HUP/dc published photos of him in his brothels in Las Vegas, Laredo, and some other place.”
“Why is he holding a prayer book?” Bella had no idea what congregants carried to mass. The fact that he had something with which to cover his face was disappointing. She'd wanted to see fear in his eyes.
“The story broke at eleven while he was at mass. Reporters were waiting on the church steps when he came out. He may not even know what's going on.”
“His poor wife.”
“You believe it?” he asked.
Bella looked at Mark with disappointment. Was he never going to get how reprehensible these old boys were? “HUP/dc has never been wrong. Everyone's going to be on this. Probably even more to come. I don't want to watch. It's sickening.”
“He's on our appellate bench. They're going to be in chaos. The AG has nowhere higher to go on our case.” Mark was excited. His blue eyes were alive, and he looked like a boy who'd just won a lifetime of trips up Space Mountain.
“They've no reason to appeal anything,” she said calmly.
“But they threatened to appeal. It's a toothless threat now.”
“Mark, it's always been toothless. Can we turn it off now? I thought we were going to the movies.”