Alaska. I should have bought stock in Tylenol before I took my first complaint to the Muni administration. I'll listen if you want to talk, but please don't expect anything.'
'Thank you for the warning, ' Beaulieu said. 'Even though I have a great fondness and respect for you, and even though, as you no doubt gathered, I haven't much support around this place, I was reluctant to share with you what I know, largely because of Frank. But then, when you said what you did at the meeting this morning-I mean about treating anyone, regardless of their ability to pay-well, I sort of took that as an invitation to talk.' Zack sighed. 'You thought correctly, ' he said finally. 'I fight it tooth and nail, but when I'm not looking, the part of me that can't stand seeing people get screwed always seems to sneak to the surface.'
'Yes, I heard what you did for that old woodcutter the other night.'
'You did?'
'Don't be so surprised. This hospital, this entire town, in fact, has a communication system that would make the Department of Defense green with envy. You had best accept that fact and adjust to it if you're going to survive here. Drop a pebble in the lake and everyone-but everyone-will feel the ripple. That's why stories, such as those that have been spread about me, are so damning. In no time at all, everyone has heard a version.'
'Like that old game-telephone.'
'Pardon?'
'It's a party game we used to play. Every one sits in a circle, and the first person whispers a secret to the one next to him. Then the secret goes all around the circle, and by the time it gets back to the one who started it, it has totally changed. It bothers me terribly to think that anyone would deliberately be doing anything to hurt you, especially making the sort of accusations the Judge says have been flying around.'
'They are lies, you know, Zachary. Every last one of them.'
Zack studied the Frenchman's face-the set of his jaw, the dark sadness engulfing his eyes. 'I know, old friend, ' he said at last. 'I know they are.'
'So…' Beaulieu tapped his fingertips together, deciding where to begin. 'What did you think of my little prepared statement this morning?
' he asked finally. 'Well, the truth is, I thought you handled yourself, and expressed yourself, very well.'
Beaulieu smiled. 'Diplomatically put, my boy. But please, continue, and remember, my feelings are quite beyond being hurt.'
Zack shrugged. 'Okay, if you really want to know the truth, I kept thinking that all that was missing from the whole scenario was a horse, a lance, a shaving-bowl helment, and Sancho Panza.'
This time, the older surgeon laughed out loud 'So, you think I am tilting at a windmill, is that it? Well, my young friend, let me give you a closer look at that windmill. Richard noulombe. Do you know him?'
'The pharmacist? Of course I know him. I called in a prescription him just yesterday.'
'And did you know that he does not own his pharmacy anymore?'
'The sign says Coulombe Drug.'
'I know what the sign says. I also know that Richard is now an employee, and not a proprietor. He sold his store nearly two years ago to a chain outfit named Eagle Pharmaceuticals and Surgical Supplies. I do not know how that particular deal, with that particular company, was brought about, but I can guess now that it was no accident. Richard did not want to sell, but he needed the money to pay an enormous debt-a hospital bill and a surgeon's bill, Zachary-run up by his wife, now his late wife, Yvette, during a series of cancer operations.'
Beaulieu chewed on a bite of sandwich as he gauged Zack's reaction.
'Did you perform the operations? ' Zack asked. The surgeon shook his head. 'The Coulombes had been my patients for many years, but shortly before Yvette began having symptoms, the rumors about me began circulating. Like most of the other people in town, they decided, or were told-I'm still not exactly certain which-to go and see Jason Mainwaring, instead. They were also told that their insurance coverage was quite limited, but that barring complications, most of Yvette's bills would be covered.'
'But complications there were.'
'Four separate operations, all of them indicated and due to unforeseeable circumstances, as far as I can tell, but four nonetheless.
Then there was a protracted stay in the Sterling Nursing Home. In fact, Yvette never did return home before she died.'
'And, of course, there were more bills for that. I get the picture.'
'Actually, ' Beaulieu said gravely, 'you haven't gotten the picture at all… yet. You see, Ultramed Corporation not only owns our hospital, it now owns both nursing homes in town as well. Did you know that?'
'No, ' Zack said. 'No, I didn't.'
'The corporate name is the Leeward Company. They own nursing homes and rehabilitation centers all over the east and midwest, and about three years ago they purchased the two here in Sterling. But what not so many people know, including me until just a few months ago, is that Leeward is a division of Ultramed, bought out by them precisely four years ago.
The bills for all three institutions-Ultramed-Davis and the two nursing homes-are actually spit out of the same computer. I'm not going to tell you who's in charge of that computer, but you can guess if you wish.'
'I don't have to, ' Zack said, wondering why Frank had never mentioned the purchase of the nursing homes to him. 'Coulombe's story is a very sad one, especially with the unfortunate outcome for his wife. But I see nothing evil or even immoral in it.'
'That is because you are missing a piece of the puzzle, ' Beaulieu said.
'A crucial piece. And remember, ' he added, 'what I am about to reveal to you is just the tip of the iceberg.'
'Go on, ' Zack said, wishing now that the man would not. Beaulieu pulled a folded typed sheet from his jacket pocket, smoothed it out on the table, and slid it across to Zack. 'As I mentioned before, ' he said, 'I do not have too many allies in my little crusade. But I do have some.
One of them has spent nearly six months traveling from place to place, trying to gather information for me. Just last week he came up with this. It's a list of the boards of directors of two companies.'
Zack scanned the parallel lists of names, headed simply R and EPSS. Five of the ten names on each list were identical. 'What do these letters stand for? ' he asked. The fire in Guy Beaulieu's eyes intensified. 'The R stands for RIATA of Boston, the megaglomerate that owns Ultramed. In a sense, they are our bosses, Zachary. Yours, mine, and every other doctor's in town.'
'And the other?'
'The other, my friend, stands for Eagle Pharmaceuticals and Surgical Supplies-the corporation that bought out Richard Coulombe. Their boards of directors interlock.'
Beaulieu illustrated his point by sliding the fingers of one hand between the fingers of the other. Before he could respond, Zack saw movement at the corner of his eye. He slid the paper onto his lap at the instant a shadow fell across the table. He and Beaulieu looked up.
Frank, smiling benignly, stood not five feet away from them, holding a tray of food. 'Are you gentlemen having a heart-to-heart? ' he asked.
'Or do you have room at the table for one more?'
Carefully, Zack folded the sheet of paper and slid it into his pocket, although he sensed the move was a fruitless one. Frank had heard at least part of their conversation. Of that, he was almost certain.
A Bach fugue was playing on the small cassette deck by the sink. Barbara Nelms, staring glumly at the bathroom mirror, ran a finger over the furrows in her forehead and the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes.
The creases had, it seemed, appeared overnight. Instinctively, she reached for her makeup kit. Then, just as quickly, she snapped off the tape, turned and walked from the bathroom. If she was bone-tired, if she was stressed close to the breaking point, if frustration and fear had aged her six years in six months, why in the hell should she try to hide it anymore?
The product of a perfectly uncomplicated unbringing in Dayton, Ohio, and four idyllic years as a business and marketing major at tiny St. Mary's College in Missouri, she had always prided herself on being a model parent, wife, citizen, and member of society. She was a registered Democrat, a voting Republican, an officer in the PTO three years running, a scout leader, a reader at church, a better than average pianist and tennis player, and, at least according to her husband, the best lover a man could ever want. But now, after six months of haggard guidance counselors and harried school resource workers, of evasive, pompous behavioral psychologists and bewildered
