Notorious Nineteen

where he’s got the money stashed?” Lula said.

“It’s a possibility.”

“I bet I could get us in.”

“Yes, but you’d break something. There’s a keypad on the front door. At four o’clock Nurse Norma is going to show up and punch in her code.”

“And all we have to do is watch and get the code.”

I turned the key in the ignition. “I’m going to move the car to the next lot so Norma doesn’t see it, and then I’m going to come back and find a place where I can see the keypad.”

“You got binoculars?”

“Yep.”

I parked around the corner and left Lula with Tiki. It wasn’t quite two o’clock, so Lula had time for a nap and I had time to investigate some of the other buildings in the area and ask about The Clinic.

I went to FedEx first.

“I’m looking for The Clinic,” I said. “I was told it was in this park but I can’t find it.”

“It’s all by itself at the end of the street,” the woman behind the counter said. “If you go out of our lot and turn left and keep going you’ll find it. I’ve never been in it myself, but they drop off here once in a while.”

“I’m applying for a job there and the ad was vague. What kind of a place is it? The ad just said they were looking for a med tech.”

“I don’t know what they do. They won’t ship anything for months, and then they’ll send out a bunch of cold packs and that’ll be it. Probably they use other shipping companies.”

Myron Cryo Industries was The Clinic’s closest neighbor. Myron was in a large sleek black glass cube, separated from The Clinic by a clump of trees and shrubs. The lobby was high-gloss onyx and polished chrome. The guy working the reception desk was in a suit that had me thinking he moon-lighted at a Holiday Inn.

“I’m supposed to be applying for a job at The Clinic,” I said to him, “but it doesn’t seem to be open for business. The front door is locked and no one answers. Did they move or something?”

“As far as I can tell that’s normal for The Clinic. It always looks closed.”

“Do you know what they do there? It didn’t say in the ad.”

“Don’t know. I’ve never seen anyone go in or go out. Our security guard says sometimes he hears the garage door going up.”

I walked to the end of the cul-de-sac, where there was another wooded area, and I was able to lose myself in the foliage. I leaned against a tree and waited, suspecting this was wasted effort. Nurse Norma was most likely going to enter through the garage.

At four Norma’s Jag cruised down the street, turned in to the private drive at the side of the building, and disappeared around back. I heard the garage door roll up, and I dropped my binoculars back into my messenger bag. So much for this brilliant idea.

I stayed in place and watched the building for signs of activity. After ten minutes I heard the garage door roll up again, and a black Cadillac Escalade with dark tinted windows appeared from the back of the building and motored down the street. I couldn’t get a good look at the driver but I copied the plate and called Connie to trace it.

Lula was asleep when I reached the Buick. I rapped on the window to jolt her awake, and she snapped to attention.

“Who? What?” she said.

I slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine over. “I wasn’t able to get the front-door code, but shortly after Norma arrived I saw an SUV drive away from the building. Norma was replacing someone.”

“Did you see who was in the car?”

“No, but I got the plate. Connie’s tracing it for me.”

“So how are we going to get in this place?”

“There’s a mail drop box in the back of the building next to the garage door. It’s designed to receive package deliveries. It isn’t locked from the outside because no one could possibly get into it. If it isn’t locked from the inside we might be able to shove Briggs in and have him unlock a door for us.”

“You think he’d do that?”

“A patient disappeared. That’s a major security breach, and Briggs can’t even explain how it happened. I’m sure he’d like to solve the mystery.”

“I thought he said no. Like I thought nobody at the hospital cared.”

“I don’t believe it. They have to care. It’s embarrassing. It’s bad business. And Briggs is head of security. I mean, how does it look on your resume that you lost a patient?”

“I see your point. Do you think he’ll fit?”

“It was a pretty big drop box.”

“When are you going to do this?”

“Tonight.”

“I’m in,” Lula said. “I don’t want to miss this.”

I stopped at the hospital on the way back to the office. Lula waited in the car and I ran in to see Briggs.

“Are you nuts?” Briggs said when I explained my plan. “I’m not doing that. And by the way it’s demeaning. How would you like to be stuffed into a drop box?”

“I wouldn’t fit,” I said.

Briggs narrowed his eyes at me. “I bet I could get you in.”

“Let’s not get nasty over this. You lost a patient, and I’m offering to help you.”

Briggs took a moment. “And you think Cubbin is in The Clinic?”

“It’s possible.”

“Okay. I’ll do it, but I swear if you ever tell anyone you stuffed me into a drop box I’ll shoot you.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you in the FedEx parking lot at nine o’clock.”

I returned to the car and plugged the key into the ignition.

“Well?” Lula asked. “What did he say?”

“He’s going to do it.”

“Wow, just like that?”

“He said he’d shoot me if I told anyone we stuffed him into a drop box. What’s with all this shooting stuff? Have you noticed there’s a lot of shooting going on? Something should be done about it.”

“Like what?”

“We should stop shooting people! There has to be a better way to solve a problem.”

“I guess,” Lula said. “But personally, I like shooting someone once in a while. Nothing serious. Like maybe just shooting someone in the little toe. I’ve done that a couple times.”

I cut my eyes to the rearview mirror and glanced at Tiki. He was still strapped in and he looked benign, but I didn’t trust him. I thought he might be encouraging thoughts of shooting.

Connie was packing up to leave when we got back to the office. “The black Escalade belongs to Abu Darhmal, the second doctor listed at The Clinic. Darhmal is forty years old and has a Ph.D. in biochemistry from the University of Maryland. No medical degree that I could find. He’s originally from Somalia. Looks to me like he has a green card but isn’t a U.S. citizen. I could find no address other than The Clinic. He taught at college level before settling in at The Clinic four years ago. No wife or other dependents. He was accused of human trafficking four years ago but was acquitted. Probably why he left academia.” Connie handed me the report.

“Maybe Nurse Norma is doing Dr. Darhmal,” Lula said.

“She’d have to do him fast,” I said. “He left immediately after she got there.”

“The Clinic is even sketchier,” Connie said. “It’s listed as a medical recovery facility, but that’s it. No hours of operation. A phone number that goes directly to voicemail. It’s owned by a holding company. Franz Sunshine Enterprises. Franz Sunshine is the president. He’s also president of FS Financials. Sunshine bought the Clinic building at auction four years ago. Its assessed assets come to just under five hundred thousand dollars. That’s not a lot for a viable business.”

Connie gave me that file as well. “I’m out of here,” she said. “There’s a glass of wine waiting for me somewhere.”

“I’m out of here too,” Lula said.