"As if we don't already have enough trouble without all the politicking. Who knows how much damage the blast caused? Max is missing and may be dead. Prospective investors who are nowhere to be seen. Charlie's right that they're not going to invest in New Arcadia if they've been blown to bits!" Shirley drank her water. "Now I'm getting loose drinking nothing but water."
"It would be nice to deal with one disaster at a time, wouldn't it?" Stacy asked. "This needs to get sorted out before the press conference. If Charlie goes on a rant about a conspiracy to murder Max and oust him as his successor, we're going to have another kind of disaster on our hands."
"If Charlie's unfit to go on, what can you do about it, and who's up next?"
"Sid and I were also talking about that. He's the board chair, so he can convene the board on an emergency basis, even if that's not clearly spelled out in the succession documents. I had Carol send them to both of us, but I honestly haven't had time to review them. Now that I have a better understanding of Charlie's condition, I'm going to speak to Jack and Peter. Charlie needs immediate medical attention, and I don't care if he believes that's part of my takeover plot. I'll be right back," I said.
"We'll give you twenty minutes, then we'll start raising bail money," Shirley chortled. Her comment even made Stacy smile. I wasn't that amused, but Shirley's resilience reinforced my determination to act.
12 What to Do About Charlie
It couldn't have taken me more than two or three minutes to reach the planning room. On my way, I mulled over several strategies for what to do about Charlie. The only option seemed to be direct and confront him with his odd behavior. If Charlie still refused to seek help, I'd have to call Sid. I'd ask him to canvas board members, and if he could garner enough votes, have Charlie suspended from his duties pending further evaluation.
When I arrived at the room, my head was pounding, and my stomach was doing somersaults. What to do about Charlie suddenly took on a whole new meaning. He was on the floor. Jack was no longer in the room, but Peter hovered over Charlie. He was getting ready to cover Charlie in what must have been a tablecloth.
"Oh, no! Please don't tell me he's dead," I whispered.
"No. I'm just trying to keep him warm," Peter said. "He was flushed, spitting mad, then slumped over in the middle of a sentence. I caught him before he slid from his chair and laid him on the floor. He's weak, and his breathing is raspy, but he's still with us."
"Did you call 911?" I asked, kneeling next to Charlie."
"Jack called Frank, and the EMTs already on site are on their way."
"Georgie?" Charlie asked. "Is that you?"
"Yes, I'm here," I said, taking Charlie's hand. It was so cold. "Help is on its way."
"I got it all wrong, didn't I?" A tear rolled from one eye.
"Aw, come on, who doesn't get a few things wrong now and then?" I asked as I dabbed at the tear with a corner of the sheet. "No more talking, okay. Did I ever tell you about the first time I cooked cornbread for Max? You know how picky he is about his mama's cornbread. Well, I was so nervous I grabbed baking soda instead of baking powder. It was horrible, Charlie."
"Max told me," Charlie said in a faint voice as he tried to smile.
"Okay, so there you go! We all goof up, and then we forgive each other. Max eats my cornbread, doesn't he?" I jumped when I heard footsteps running toward us, and two men with a gurney burst into the room. "Help's here, Charlie!"
"Don't let go," Charlie begged as I loosened my grip. I looked at the EMT.
"You're okay for now," he replied.
"Call Angie, please. I don't want a stranger to do it."
"Of course, Charlie," I said.
"It's Charlie, is it? Charlie what? What's your full name?" The EMT asked.
"Yes, thas right. Ish Charlie Maganum. Magamun, like the really big bottle of champagne," Charlie mumbled, dropping letters and slurring words.
"Okay, Charlie Magnum, I'm Nick. I need to check your vitals and get an IV going, okay?"
"Okay." We were silent as the EMT took readings.
"Do you have high blood pressure, Charlie?"
"Yesh," Charlie said.
"How about diabetes?"
"No. Do I, Georgie?"
"Not unless it's a new diagnosis." Stacy, who'd come bounding into the room with Jack and the EMTs, shook her head 'no.'
"Where's Charlie's briefcase?" Stacy asked. Peter picked it up from a chair at the table. "He just returned from a trip to San Francisco and kept his medications with him, so they're in the bag."
"Good. Thank you," Nick said as Peter handed him a plastic bag with eight or ten pill bottles in it. He glanced at them. "What's this one with no label, Charlie?"
"Vitamins for my brain," Charlie said. Nick glanced at me as if I might know what he was talking about. I shrugged, and so did Stacy.
"Did the doctor give you the vitamins?"
"No, I got 'em from a ferenn," Charlie replied.
"What was your friend's name?" Nick asked. Charlie didn't respond. "Can you remember who gave them to you?"
"No. Thas why I need to take em. Sho I can ememer… guess I need more…huh?"
"I don't think so, Charlie. My bet is you'll feel better if you quit taking these." Nick handed the bag of pills to his partner. "I could be wrong, but they look like the steroids we found on the guy we picked up in a gym last week, don't they, Tony?"
"You're right. The numbers printed on the pills were the same as the ones on these," Tony responded. Nick shook his head as he finished taping the needle for an IV to Charlie's free hand.
"Charlie, I can see why you don't want this beautiful woman to let go of your hand, but my pal and I need to move you off this hard floor. Then we're taking you to the hospital so the doctors and nurses can get you back on your feet. She'll have to let go for us to do that. Besides, she can't call Angie if she's hanging onto your hand."
"Gotcha," Charlie said and let go. Two minutes later, Nick and Tony had moved Charlie onto the gurney and rolled him into the hallway. Jack and I walked hurriedly alongside them.
"Make sure the medical staff check all the drugs in Charlie's bag, in case what was in the bottles didn't match what was on the label."
"Got it," Nick said.
"A police officer is going to meet you at the emergency entrance to keep an eye out for Charlie. Someone from the police lab will get there as soon as possible to collect the steroids and take them into evidence. The officer at the hospital should be passing this information along to the hospital staff, but I don't want you to be surprised by it."
"I've got it, detective. The other detective wants you to call him as soon as you can. We'll return as soon as we can in case you need help getting whoever's in that room to a hospital."
"Frank has another ambulance on standby," Jack replied.
"You may need more help than that depending on what kind of a mess this is. Who would want to kill a nice old man like Charlie by telling him steroids were vitamins?" Nick shook his head. "Don't worry. We'll take care of Charlie."
"While you call Frank, I'll call Angie. Then, I want to go with you to the blast site. Stacy and I need to be clear about what to say to the press this afternoon."
"It's too bad you can't put it off until tomorrow morning."
"I wish we could too, but I want to get out ahead of whatever's going to result from Charlie's unfortunate conversation with Palm Spring's mayor. She's on my 'to-be-called' list too."
"Shouldn't Stacy take the lead on the PR piece? Charlie was really on a rant, and my concern is it wasn't all due to his steroid problem."
"I agree, Jack. I'm not as naïve as you may believe I am. Despite how seemingly concerned he was today, I've concluded that Sid's taking advantage of Max's absence to oust Charlie. I've even heard who he's planning to put into Charlie's place."
"Not you?"
"Pfft! Your wife is the villain in this story, remember? Charlie got that part right, but not because of anything I've done. Unless it's my
fault that Max favors me. If I'd had a chance, I would have talked Max out of the idea," I said, unable to believe Jack and I were even talking about this. "Sid's choice is a tech entrepreneur by the name of Eric Sandler."
"Have I met Sandler?"
"I don't know. There's nothing distinctive about him, although he's younger than most of the other board members. He was at the party for Kay Garland. I spoke to him while I was filling in for Stacy. I don't know if Max introduced him to you or not. He's been on the board less than a year, supposedly has deep pockets, but hasn't contributed much to community events like other members have done."
"There must be something special about him if he's managed to acquire so much support so soon. From board member to successor in a year. Isn't that unusual?"
"Max would never have allowed it to happen," I said. "I don't care who he is. Max values the contributions board members make, reliability, trustworthiness—traits that are demonstrated over time. Once I call Angie, apologize to the mayor of Palm Springs, and come up with a strategy for how to address the press, I'm going to shift gears on this succession issue." We'd been slowly walking back to the planning room without realizing it.
"Georgie, what are you up to?"
"I'm not sure, but Max has a right to participate in the discussion about his successor. We don't know that Charlie's problems are anything that hasn't been brought on because a 'friend' has been drugging him. I'm not sure how, but I'm going to come up with a way to check up on the attempt to get rid of Charlie. The man's in the hospital, for goodness' sake. It's a matter of decency not to attack him until he's well enough to respond to his accusers."
"Bravo!" Shirley said as she and Stacy came into the room.
"Furthermore," I responded, pointing my finger toward the ceiling as Max often did, "you're the company's top PR person, Stacy. I'm going to help you plan how to handle this if you want me to, but you're 'it' when it comes to speaking to the press. We can tell them that at the briefing if you'd like."
"I'm so relieved that Charlie isn't going to blow a gasket in public that I don't have any problem being the company's voice. We also have some good news to share now that we know people lived through the blast. I'll also add that not everyone was so fortunate and tell that a past employee of the construction firm was killed. Since we haven't determined the circumstances surrounding his death, which is being investigated as a homicide, I can't provide details. The name will be released, however, pending notification of his family."
"Wow! You've got most of the briefing written already."
"Thanks for helping to save Charlie's life by getting the EMTs here so fast," Shirley said.
"Thank you, Peter told me Georgie did that by being comforting him even after he'd tried to pin murder and a corporate takeover on her. I wish I didn't have to go back to the blast site, but they're about to bring people out of the safety hub. I want to hear every word they have to say."
"If Max was in there, you would already have told us, huh?" I said, not able to hide my disappointment.
"I'm afraid he's not among the people in the hub. None of the dignitaries who were supposed to with Max are in ther either. I'm going to run. I hope they can help us find Max and give us more good news for you to share with the public."
Jack gave me a hug and headed for the door. Then he stopped.
"You might find this interesting, although it won't mean much to the public. The crew clearing out the big hole in the ground found the door from a fuel truck that is part of the wreckage and must have contributed to the blast. The construction company reported the truck stolen a couple of days ago from a central site they own. Here's a bit you'll have to explain to Shirley and Stacy. Someone had painted the logo from the anti-faddist group on the door."
"The fuel truck is a big clue on what caused the explosions. That is news. So is the presence of the logo—it's weird news—but still news. Does it mean someone higher up than the dead laborer was involved in the attack on New Arcadia?" I asked.
"From what you've told me about the guy, I find it hard to believe he's a mastermind. There's someone involved who's capable of doing a little planning, though." Jack ran back, gave me a kiss, and left.
"He's a keeper," Shirley said. "What's the logo he's talking about?"
"Let me call Angie, and then I'll fill you in," I said.
"Use my office where you'll have privacy. Then come back here."
"Okay," I said, trying to focus on the fact that Charlie was alive and getting good care. I pulled my phone from my pocket. I was scrolling through it, looking for the number the Local Hospital number from the EMTs they'd given me to pass on to Angie. It took me about thirty seconds to realize I had the wrong phone.
In another thirty seconds, I realized it had to be Charlie's phone. I wasn't surprised to see Angie's phone number among his recent calls or the calls he'd made to Sid today. What threw me for a loop was that he'd also placed a call to Eric Sandler.
"Good grief! What were you up to, Charlie?" I asked as I called Angie and braced myself to give her the news.
13 An Abundance of Coincidences
"I knew it, the moment you called Georgie." Angie was silent for a few seconds. "I did everything I could, short of having him hospitalized. Maybe I should have asked Sid to help me shove him in the back seat with the child locks on and hauled him to the ER."
"I'm not sure you could have pulled that off, but it could have helped in one way," I said.
"How?" she asked, tentatively as if she wasn't sure she wanted to hear my answer.
"Blood tests might have revealed that he was taking a medication that hadn't been prescribed for him."
"What medication?"
I explained what the EMTs had said about the contents of an unlabeled bottle. When she heard that they suspected he was taking steroids, which he thought were vitamins, Angie reacted in an unexpected way.
"Oh, thank goodness! That means there's a good chance Charlie hasn't lost his mind or developed dementia. I know people who take steroids for lupus or another condition, and they complain about how moody they feel. You've heard all the stories about athletes who wrecked their lives by taking them. I'm going to call my daughter and have her drive me to the hospital. I know it must be hard to believe how happy you've made me after finding my husband lying on the floor. From the way Charlie spoke to you at the end, I'm certain he's going to be okay. This will be the best Christmas ever."
"Do you have any idea where he got the, uh, vitamins?" I asked. "The police will probably ask you the same thing once you get to the hospital. Jack asked that the pills be taken into evidence as part of an investigation to make sure this wasn't an attack on Charlie's life."
"I doubt anyone was intentionally trying to hurt Charlie. One young troublemaker comes to mind, although Bobby Bush probably believed he was doing Charlie a favor. I wouldn't put it past him to have told Charlie he was giving him vitamins. Bobby was always going on about this herb or that root we should be taking to feel younger or more energetic."
"If he was a troublemaker, would Charlie have taken pills from him without having them checked out first?"
"Maybe if Bobby's talk got to him. Charlie worries so much because he has such a hard time keeping up with Max, even though Max is older than he is. I found this green drink in the fridge that Bobby made for Charlie. He said it tasted horrible, so I threw it out. I can only assume if it had tasted better, Charlie would have consumed it."
"It's nice that Charlie has tried to help," I said.
"That's what I thought too. The young man is extremely intelligent but has emotional issues. He and Sid have both tried to find a job for him, hoping he'd come around. I guess Bobby's parents are about to give up on him, and Sid feels bad for them."
"I should keep you any longer. Do you have a place to stay here in the desert cities?"
"Yes, I do. Bobby's uncle has a place out here. You know Eric Sandler and his wife, Laurie. They have a vacation home, and I have an open invitatio
n to visit. They've offered to help us find a place in the desert if Charlie decides to retire. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Maybe he will now. Thanks again for calling me. I know Charlie hasn't been easy to work with the past few months."
"Hey, we've been friends for a long time. If there's anything else I can do, call me, please?"
"I will. Bye, Georgie."
"Whoa!" I said when Angie hung up. My head was spinning from an overload of coincidences. I had no idea how the pieces fit together, but several things suddenly made sense.
That Charlie was speaking to Bobby in the lobby didn't seem so odd. Was Charlie chewing Bobby out or hoping to get more "vitamins" from him? The fact that Charlie had called Eric Sandler also made more sense to me. He and Angie had obviously had more contact with Eric Sandler than I realized. That could well have been about Charlie's attempts to help Bobby Bush.
That Bobby Bush, Sid, and Eric Sandler's names all came up in a single phone call seemed significant. If I called Jack, maybe his history of dealing with dirty tricks would give him an advantage in determining if there was sense to be made of such an abundance of coincidences.
"I called Carol, hoping to give her a quick update. Her office phone went to her voice mail, so I left a quick message that I hoped was coherent.
Next, I tried to reach the mayor of Palm Springs, but that didn't happen. It only took seconds, after I'd introduced myself, for the receptionist to tell me she was unavailable for the rest of the day. She took my name and phone number and suggested I try again tomorrow if no one had returned my call by lunchtime.
On my way to the planning room, I came up with a better idea than placing another phone call to Jack. A jumble of bits and pieces, like the logo for that bizarre anti-faddist group on the door of the truck, ran through my mind along with the snippets of information about Bobby Bush, the wheeling and dealing among board members, the fact we hadn't heard a word about money from blackmailers, even though six extraordinarily rich men were missing.
A Merry Christmas Anniversary Mystery Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #9 (Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Series) Page 12