sighed. “‘Okay. Bring your bike rack. Noon.” She slammed the phone down and examined us bitterly. “What do you want?”
Macguire tucked his chin into his neck and gabbled something unintelligible. Poor kid. Aside from ReeAnn’s plentiful figure and pretty face, I couldn’t figure the attraction. Maybe it was the black-and-purple nails.
“ReeAnn,” I reassured her, “we’re here to help you. You see, I talked to somebody from ACHM after church yesterday, and after what happened to Ms. Craig ? “
She stabbed a dark fingernail at Macguire. “Are you the one who told the cops I didn’t like Ms. Craig? Because they came to my place yesterday, you know.”
“Er, I, no ? ” Macguire stammered. “I guess I ? “
Before he could continue his feeble protests, ReeAnn pointed the fingernail at me. “Uh-huh. And you, Mrs. Ex-Korman Number One, exactly how’re you going to help me? My boss is behind bars and the cops think I hated his girlfriend? What’re you going to do, hire a temporary nurse to come in and help out? Call all the expectant women and recommend other doctors to them? You going to loan me some money from your catering biz when I don’t get paid this week?”
“ReeAnn, you’re upset. Please call me Mrs. Schulz. Or Goldy.”
“I know,” she said spitefully. “You’re here about money. That’s what Mrs. Ex-Korman Number Two is always calling about.”
I replied calmly, “I’m not interested in money, or at least only marginally. Listen, do you know why the ACHMO people are coming today?”
She sighed dramatically and looked away. “I never know. One week it’s ‘Let’s see how you’re billing ultrasounds.’ Then they pull out ten records of women who’ve had ultrasounds. If one of the patients happened to say, ‘Oh, my, I’d like to have an ultrasound because I’m worried about the baby,’ and the doc writes that in the woman’s file, you can kiss your reimbursement good-bye.”
I said, “Hmm.” Chris Corey had explained that the HMO came in to the doctors’ offices to check billing, but I still didn’t know the reason. “Why does what the patient says about the ultrasound matter?”
“Because,” she supplied impatiently, “if you want to be sure ACHMO is going to pay for the ultrasound, there has to be a medical reason for the test. And the ultrasound has to be the doctor’s idea, understand? Even if it’s the patient’s idea, we have to dress it up like the doctor figured her life was in danger if she didn’t have an ultrasound. Otherwise, ACHMO doesn’t fork over the money for the ultrasound. Understand? Welcome to the world of managed care, Mrs. Ex-Korman Number One.”
This was going to be fun, I could tell. The phone rang. ReeAnn dealt with the problem ? a woman seeking an appointment ? by referring her to another doctor. Then she turned back to us.
“So what do you two want, anyway? To talk about ACHMO coming? I don’t have time.”
I said bluntly, “Do you think my ex-husband killed Ms. Craig?”
My question seemed to surprise her. She pursed her lips and opened her eyes wide. Macguire watched her in enamored awe. Then she reached back to twirl her ponytail while she considered. “He could have,” she replied noncommittally.
When she didn’t say more, I prodded, “How about Patricia McCracken? Do you think she could have lost her temper with Suz Craig?”
ReeAnn snorted. “That’s just as likely.” The phone rang again. “Listen, I’m sorry, I really don’t have time to chat ? ” I waved to her to answer the phone. ReeAnn disposed of this caller by advising her to give the pharmacy a ring.
“Where’s Patricia McCracken’s file?” I asked as soon as the secretary was not-so-ready to chat again.
Her laugh was derisive. “You gotta be kidding if you think I’m going to show you a patient file.”
“I don’t want you to show me anything,” I replied patiently. “What you might want to do is try to find something. It’s what the ACHMO people are going to be here looking for. It could be a letter, a note, something about the McCracken suit. If John Richard wrote a few lines to himself about Patricia McCracken’s care and the ACHMO people take them, it will adversely affect me and my son. John Richard could be found at fault in the malpractice suit and we’ll lose financial support. Actually, what I really wanted was for Patricia to win her suit.”
ReeAnn shook her head vigorously; the ponytail bobbed. “You’ve already lost financial support,” she said scathingly. “He was thinking you were making so much money from your food business, he didn’t have to pay anymore. And then when Bailey Products dumped Biocess … It’s been awful. And he works so hard,” she whined. “And what’ll happen to me if they try him for killing her?”
I took a deep breath. I’d always suspected that ReeAnn and John Richard were cut from the same self- centered cloth. Now I was sure of it. But had ReeAnn and the Jerk been romantically involved in the few months she had been working for him? Could ReeAnn have been jealous of Suz Craig? Jealous enough to kill?
“My son,” I said with a smile, “is extremely upset about his dad being in jail. So I promised him I’d ask around to see if there was anything to clear him, okay?”
“Uh, ReeAnn, remember?” Macguire interjected feebly. “Remember when you mentioned you were involved in a project with the HMO? Something to do with Ms. Craig? Remember, you called her Ms. Crank? That’s probably why the police came to visit you.”
“That woman was a first-class bitch,” ReeAnn spat. “And that’s exactly what I told those cops. I did call her Ms. Crank. And you know what Ms. Crank’s favorite saying was, don’t you?” Macguire and I looked at her expectantly. She raised her voice and trilled, ” ‘I don’t do ? I delegate.’ “
“Oh, yes,” I mumbled, remembering that that was precisely what Suz had said to me regarding the preparation of food for her business lunch. “I guess I did know that. But she did help me with the dishes when I worked for her, and she could have delegated that ? “
“Cheap!” ReeAnn fumed. “I finally told her, ‘Don’t tell me to do another thing, okay? Delegate somewhere else! I don’t work for you!’ “
“What exactly did she want you to ? “
I was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by the entrance of Brandon Yuille. Today he wore a loose blue oxford-cloth shirt with no tie, navy pants, and Top-Siders.
“Hey-ho, we’re here!” Brandon’s cheery greeting was more along the lines of How soon will Christmas dinner be ready than This is Eliot Ness, get up against the wall. “Hey, Goldy! What’re you doing’ here? I forgot to ask you yesterday, did you try that Thai sauce I gave you?” His whole attitude was much brighter than when I’d seen him after church. Behind him, however, Chris Corey appeared even glummer than he had the day before.
“Ah, no,” I replied, “not yet.”
“Well, then, why’re you here?” Brandon asked again, still smiling.
“I’m just looking for some of Arch’s, er, homework papers.”
“In August? Isn’t school out?”
“They’ve been missing for a long time.”
ReeAnn slapped a pile of files down on the counter and shot me a knowing look of exasperation. “Well, boys, here’s a batch of D & Cs for you to ; look through. Did I guess right?”
“Nah, we need C-sections,” Brandon announced brightly. “They’ve been missing even longer than homework papers.” His laugh was infectious, and I found myself smiling in spite of myself. To ReeAnn he said, “Should we start in there?” He motioned down the hall to the filing office.
“That sounds just great.” ReeAnn didn’t do sarcasm well. “As if I had some choice, right? I’ve got to stay here and do the phones.”
“Here’s the list of the files we’ll be looking for,” Chris said meekly as he squeezed his pudgy body behind the counter and consulted a clipboard. He waited a moment until Brandon was out of earshot. I nipped over to the counter. “Did you do a dummy duplicate of Patricia McCracken’s file?” Chris asked ReeAnn urgently.
“Yes,” she whispered back. “Just the way you told me. I’ve got the original up here.” She pointed to a shelf. The phone rang; she snatched it.
“What?” she squawked. “It’s your turn to bring lunch! You think I can handle one more thing today? Forget it! Tuna sandwiches!” Then she slammed down the phone. It didn’t sound as if she got along very well with whoever it was.
I said, “Chris! I thought you wanted ACHMO to be caught trying to take the file!”
He harumphed and readjusted his capacious belt. “If Brandon takes the dummy with McCracken’s name on it
