Hand of Evil

back. I don’t know why it takes so long, but today was the day.

I had pretty well prepared myself for the fact that it was going to be bad news, and it was. Since I have a computer, I had gone to the various Web sites and looked up what I could expect in terms of treatment options-surgery, radiation, chemo. What I wasn’t prepared for was to be told not to bother.

“At your age,” this little whippersnapper doctor

told me, “there’s really not much point.” He’s probably all of forty-five and he should count himself lucky I didn’t whack him over his head with my walker. The problem is, I can’t get in to see an oncologist without a referral from my primary physician. And if he does give me a referral, what’s he going to say? “Here’s Velma, but don’t bother doing anything to fix her because she’s a useless eighty-something and curing her cancer isn’t going to be cost effective.”

What I want to know is this: Did this happen because Medicare reimbursements are so low that the doctor can’t be bothered? Maybe he’d rather treat full-fare patients. Or does he just hate old people in general? (Surprise, he’s going to be one someday himself. I wonder how he’ll like it?) Or does he just hate me? Personally.

Should I go to the trouble of trying to see another doctor-not easy when you have to go by cab or bus because you can’t drive anymore (another bad thing about getting old) or should I just take him at his word, decide he’s right, I’m a hopeless case, and that the sooner I turn toes up the better off we’ll all be?

You’re pobably wondering why I’m asking you these questions. I can’t very well ask my son, because he would definitely be in the toes-up corner. Unfortunately my doctor and my son are friends. They belong to the same club and play golf together. That’s how I ended up with him for a doctor-my son recommended him. I even signed a form saying it was okay for him to let my son have access to my medical information. That was before all this happened, of course.

Please write back and let me know what you think. I really value your opinion.

Sincerely,

VELMA T IN LAGUNA

Ali was absolutely outraged. When she had been in California dealing with the avalanche of crises that had accompanied Paul Grayson’s death, she had been overwhelmed by everything that had been coming at her. On the night when she had been at her very lowest ebb, a single bright spot had appeared. Velma T had managed to track Ali down at her hotel. Sporting a walker decorated with patriotic items-including red, white, and blue tennis balls- the woman had caught a cab and come all the way across L.A. to offer her support and to let Ali Reynolds know there was someone in her corner.

This was a sprightly, outgoing woman. And this obnoxious doctor was writing her off because she was eighty-eight?

Ali’s first husband, Dean, had died of glioblastoma when he was in his twenties and while Ali was pregnant with Christopher. During her high-profile years as an L.A. area newscaster, Ali had done lots of work with the cancer community-helping with fund-raising and doing guest appearances. One of the side benefits of that had left Ali with a good deal of knowledge and with a whole list of cancer treatment contacts she could call on for help and information.

The idea of Velma, a most likely impoverished old woman trying to fight her way through the cancer treatment morass on her own, left Ali feeling physically ill. And suspecting that Velma was spending this worrisome, sleepless night in front of her computer screen, Ali wrote back at once.

Dear Velma

I’m so sorry. Receiving a cancer diagnosis is always devastating no matter how old you are or how young or how young at heart.

Although I’ve dealt with my share of medical professionals, I have no idea why your primary care physician thinks treatment options are off the table at this time. It may be that you were in such a state of distress that you simply didn’t understand exactly what he was saying. On the other hand, there may be other physical and medical conditions involved that make it risky for you to undergo treatment of any kind. There’s always a chance that, as you suggested, your doctor is simply an uncaring jerk. Another possibility that tends more to aluminum- foil-hat conspiracy theories would have to do with your doctor having a conflict of interest in treating you due to his chummy relationship with your son.

Although I no longer live in southern California, I still have many contacts in the local cancer care medical community. I’ll be in touch with some of them first thing in the morning and see what, if anything, I can do.

In the meantime, go ahead and worry. You are right to be upset and scared, but try to take things one step at a time and let me and others do what we can to help.

My thoughts and prayers are with you.

ALI

CHAPTER 5

Hoping Velma would find the note reassuring and comforting, Ali spent the next hour or so looking through her database and thinking about who she should call on Velma’s behalf. In the process, something struck her. It seemed to her that Velma Trimble and Arabella Ashcroft were being plagued by similar scourges-young, overly officious males who appeared to be attempting to micromanage the lives of older female relatives.

In Velma’s case her son appeared to be conspiring with her doctor to direct her medical care without bothering to take Velma’s own wishes into consideration. And Arabella’s nephew, Billy-a blood relation Arabella claimed to have never met prior to his unannounced visit the previous Sunday-was now threatening to expose Arabella’s unfortunate history as a mental patient in hopes of having her locked away.

Ali couldn’t help wondering about motive. Was it possible both these overreaching people were after the same thing-their elderly relative’s moolah? She didn’t know Velma’s son’s name, but she did know Arabella’s nephew’s-William Ashcroft. For Ali, turning to the Internet for more information was as natural as breathing. Her very first attempt at Googling the name came up winners. The article, dated three weeks earlier, came from the San Diego Ledger.

1.5 MILLION JUDGMENT IN REVERSE MORTGAGE SCHEME

Reverse mortgage guru and long-time real estate developer William Cowan Ashcroft, III, was found liable for $1.5 million in damages on behalf of the relatives of three elderly clients whose families claim were defrauded out of valuable real estate holdings in exchange for promises of payments that were never forthcoming.

A jury of five women and one man assessed Ashcroft $500,000 in real damages and an additional $1,000,000 in punitive damages with the proceeds to be divided evenly among the three plaintiff families. He was also held liable for the plaintiffs’ legal expenses, which are thought to be considerable.

Helen Sampson, one of the plaintiffs in the case, was jubilant with the outcome. “William Ashcroft is a worm who specialized in cheating the frail and infirm. He had zero compunction about stealing my Aunt Claire’s home right out from under her and putting her out on the street. I’m grateful that the jury has given us this moral victory, but it’s still only a fraction of what Claire’s property was worth and what she and Ashcroft’s other victims should have had coming to them.”

Thomas Rago, Mr. Ashcroft’s attorney, expressed dismay at the finding and declared that he would be appealing the jury’s decision.

Billy, you low-down son of a bitch, Ali thought. No doubt the reverse mortgage offer to Arabella had been little more than a ruse. He may have taken possession of the property, but if his previous track record was any indication, his promised payments wouldn’t have been forthcoming. The longer Ali thought about it, the more she understood that, faced with rising legal costs and the need to pay off the judgment, Billy Ashcroft had come to Sedona planning on talking his well-to-do old aunty into giving him the cash he needed. When Arabella had proved to be anything but a soft touch, he had resorted to extortion instead.

After printing that article, Ali returned to her search page. There were twenty-nine other entries for William