Chasing Their Losses Read online

  “Sorry.” Jeff jumped up and spun her chair around. “It’s all yours.”

  “You didn’t answer me. Who let you in my office?”

  Jeff favored her with another smile. “I have a master key.”

  Cara’s mind whirled like a Nebraska windmill. There were master keys, and then there were other master keys. Department heads like her had masters to their own bailiwick. But as far as she knew, only a few people in the entire hospital had a key to everything: the CEO and the director of security. Maybe the head of maintenance. For a person in Jeff’s position to have a major master key was beyond belief. It was entirely possible he’d conned someone in her own department to sneak a key from the front office and let him in.

  Cara hung up her coat and sat at her desk, checking to see if he had moved any of her papers. Everything looked the same. She looked up at Jeff. “So, what is it you wanted in here?”

  Jeff stifled a yawn. “It was my understanding you wouldn’t be in today, so I decided I’d get more accomplished in your office.”

  “What, exactly, are you doing?”

  Jeff produced a computer print out. “I asked Casey to give me a copy of all the patients in the hospital, along with their diagnosis and type of diet ordered. From there, I’ll decide who’s going to be offered my new vegetarian menus today.”

  “Today?” Cara was suddenly lightheaded. “That isn’t giving the cooks much time to go over the recipes and no time at all to train them. Usually, we spend weeks getting ready for a change like that.”

  Jeff backed away toward the door. “Oh, don’t worry. I was here over the weekend. Everything’s all set.”

  Cara gripped the arms of her chair. “But we’ll have to order the food.”

  “Done. I’ve already purchased the food and supplies and taken them to the storeroom.” Jeff beamed down at her with a look of triumph in his eyes.

  Cara felt the blood rising in her neck. She turned away, resisting an impulse to jump up and slap this cocky little guy in the face. Through the door glass, she saw Lydia motioning her to come out. She stood up, pushed Jeff into the kitchen and slammed the door behind them.

  Lydia gripped her arm. “Let’s go to the walk-ins.”

  They stepped inside the meat freezer, the place where she and Lydia often hunkered down for crisis management discussions. Lydia flipped on the overhead light. The temperature read minus ten, and their breath steamed in front of them. “What’s going on?” Cara asked.

  “That Jeff guy. He was down here Saturday afternoon before they brought you to the emergency room. I asked him if he’d talked to you about using your office and he said no, but he didn’t think you’d care. He said, if you don’t believe me, just go ahead and call her.”

  “Did you try to call? I haven’t checked my messages.”

  “Yes, I called your cell. But he was just so damn confident, almost as if he knew you wouldn’t answer. The next time I saw him, he said, ‘did you talk to Cara?’ and I said, ‘no, she wasn’t home,’ and he just gave me that little smirk that makes his mustache wiggle. Later when they brought you to the ER and it was all over the news that you had almost drowned, I said to him, ‘well, I guess I know why Cara wasn’t home.’ And he just looked at me without answering, as if I cursed at him or something. Then he picked up his briefcase and left.”

  Cara felt her energy draining away. After what she’d been through this weekend, she wasn’t in the mood for another battle. “He said he’d done some shopping. Did you see what he bought?”

  A deep groove formed between Lydia’s black eyebrows. “I sure did. Fresh white asparagus. Raspberries. Radicchio. Lentils and Portabella mushrooms. Expensive stuff in little bottles and jars. I told him it was my job to take the bill and check it all in, and he said fine, go ahead.”

  Cara’s throat closed with anger. She was speechless.

  In spite of the freezing temperature, beads of sweat popped out on Lydia’s forehead. “You don’t even want to know what it cost. It was all from that specialty market in the mall. What’s accounting going to say when our food bills skyrocket?”

  Cara sighed. “I don’t know that they’ll have any say so. Rozgonyi is a big gun. Right now, what she wants, she gets.”

  Lydia’s nostrils flared. “You shouldn’t let that asshole sit in your office and order food without your approval. Excuse the language.”

  Cara ignored Lydia’s apology. Both of them had said far worse in their private discussions. “I agree. He’s pushing me way too hard. And I don’t intend to let him get by with it.”

  “You go, girl.” Lydia followed Cara out of the freezer and strode back to her desk near the storeroom, ignoring the curious glances from the cooks who appeared to sense tension in the air.

  Cara waited for the warmth of the kitchen to stop her shivers. Her gut instinct told her that something was terribly wrong with the whole Jeff King/ Dr. Rozgonyi syndrome. Why were they in such a hurry to push through their new program?

  Jeff was waiting outside her office. “Just so you know,” he said. “I’ve contacted Public Relations. Dr Rozgonyi and I want to hold a press conference as soon as possible about what we’re doing.”

  “Don’t you think this is a bit premature?”

  “No.” His lips formed a tight stubborn line.

  Cara shoved her hands in the pockets of her lab coat, clenching and releasing her fists. “Well, I do. Now, let’s get something straight. You were told you could have free access to the department. That did not include my office. I don’t ever want to walk in and see you sitting at my desk again. Understand?”

  A gleam of amusement flickered in Jeff’s eyes. He crossed his right arm over his waist and bent down in a mock bow. “Yes, your majesty.” he said, before turning to walk out to the kitchen.

  Cara thought back to that day in Jim Mason’s office when Dr. Rozgonyi and Jeff had gotten the best of her. She been so distracted about her lunch with Tony and dodging bullets in front of the diner, that she’d given in too quickly to their grandiose plans.

  She yanked open her file cabinet and found a folder marked AMA Journal. Last February, the American Medical Association had published a report of a six-year study that raised serious questions as to whether vegetarian diets actually reduce the incidence of coronary artery disease or cancer. The conclusion was that they didn’t. She tucked the folder under her arm and headed for the public relations office.

  The Public Relations Director, Kate Wilson, had the cheerful optimism of a professional spin doctor. In a world of uniformed health care workers with scrubbed faces and unpolished fingernails, her frosted hair, exotic perfume, and designer clothes made her an anomaly.

  “Glad you stopped by,” she said to Cara. “I’m just putting together a press release about these new vegetarian menus. This Jeff King is really something else, isn’t he?”

  “He is, indeed. However, before you go much further, you might want to look at this report in the February AMA Journal. They’ve concluded that these extremely restrictive diets are unpalatable and not very effective. If you generate a lot of publicity, the dietitians at the hospital across town are apt to bring up this and other similar studies.”

  Kate picked up a pair of small rimless glasses and settled them on her nose while briefly skimming the article. “So, what are you suggesting we do?”

  “I think its fine to offer vegetarian foods for people who prefer them. But I can tell you they aren’t popular when we serve them in the cafeteria.”

  Kate nodded in agreement. In spite of her veneer of sophistication, she was a Hoosier at heart. Cara had observed Kate’s food choices in the cafeteria and knew her favorites were beef Manhattan and fried chicken.

  Encouraged by Kate’s receptive manner, Cara continued. “The truth is, a very low fat diet is a boring way to go through life, and it’s counterproductive. If you eliminate animal protein, you replace it with carbohydrates, which increases the risk of obesity and diabetes.”

  Kate drummed her lo
ng polished fingernails on her desk. “Have you talked to Jim Mason about this?”

  “I had a meeting with him, Dr. Rozgonyi, and Jeff King. They know I’m strongly opposed to the hospital going off the deep end on this. All we agreed to was a new, revamped vegetarian selective menu. I think we should wait and see how the patients respond to the new recipes and iron out any kinks before holding a press conference.

  “You’re telling me you don’t want publicity for your department? Most department heads are dying for some good press.”

  Cara dismissed Kate’s comment with a wave of her hand. “The problem with people like Dr. Rozgonyi and Jeff King is that they’ve made a religion out of the anti-fat, anti-cholesterol paradigm. Conventional wisdom still calls for a well balanced diet. And that includes meat, poultry, fish, eggs, and cheese.”

  Kate’s took off her glasses and leaned forward with a smile. “I’m impressed. It takes a lot of guts to go against someone like Dr. Rozgonyi. And, right now, you’re on a roll with administration, so I’ll talk to the CEO and tell him you’re not so hot about all this.”

  “Since when am I on a roll with the guys upstairs?”

  Kate arched a carefully penciled eyebrow. “You don’t know? A little thing like risking your life to try and rescue Tony Cabella’s stepson has made you the heroine of the day. By the way, why are you here at work?”

  “Why would I not be?”

  Kate looked her up and down. “You’ve got raccoon eyes and you’re limping. You haven’t done a thing with your hair and your lip is busted. And doesn’t that goose egg on your forehead make your head ache?”

  Cara pressed her finger to the swelling above her eyebrow. Probably the place where her head hit the windshield. But Kate had a point. No one had expected her back today. Especially, Jeff King.

  Kate’s sharp blue eyes checked the door before she lowered her chin and spoke softly. “Are you aware that Rozgonyi is asking the Board to approve funding for a new Alternative Health Care Center? I’m talking millions of dollars.”

  “Omigod.” Cara pressed her hands to her face. “What’s she planning to do there?”

  “Well, in addition to Jeff’s cooking school, she’ll offer things like exercise, yoga, meditation, and massage. And they plan to sell herbs and dietary supplements.”

  “But we already have a fitness center. And a cardiac rehab center. And outpatient classes for all of these things. None of this new. And selling supplements to prevent disease borders on quackery.”

  Kate frowned, showing the first signs of annoyance. “You know the hospital is always looking for new ways to get a competitive edge and generate revenue.” She sat up very straight and switched to the professional mode, the moment of empathy gone. “Look, I’ll try to stall things for now. But in the long run, I can’t afford to take sides. The best thing would be for you and Rozgonyi to work together on this. Why don’t you go over and talk to her about your concerns?”

  “All right, I’ll do just that.”

  Cara left Kate’s office and walked across the street to the medical professional building. She could have waited a day or two, but she felt an urgent need to straighten things out with Dr. Rozgonyi. She wanted her life back—the one she’d finally started to enjoy before Tony Cabella had re-entered it, and Jeff King appeared on the scene.

  It was turning out to be a fine day--cool and full of sunshine. Shading her eyes, Cara looked up at the sky. A black crow hung in the air for a moment before beginning its descent. As Cara passed under the bird’s shadow, she shuddered. Was this a sign of bad karma coming her way?

  The receptionist in Rozgonyi’s outer office tried to turn her away. “I’m sorry, she’s busy now,” she said.

  Cara stood her ground. “But she doesn’t see patients today, I know that.”

  “You’ll have to make an appointment.”

  At that moment, the outer door opened as a nurse walked into the lobby. Cara lunged for the door, knowing it would automatically lock as soon as it shut. Without waiting for a response from the startled receptionist, Cara walked down a long carpeted hallway toward Rozgonyi’s office.

  The door was open, and Dr. Rozgonyi was seated at her desk, talking to a female visitor. Cara stepped back immediately. It was one thing to walk in without an appointment, but to interrupt a private meeting wasn’t a good idea. She’d better leave.

  Cara flattened her body against the wall and inhaled sharply, afraid that even the simple act of breathing might make a sound. If the two women were absorbed in conversation, they might not hear her footsteps or see her sneaking back down the corridor. She craned her neck an inch for one last look. But when she saw Rozgonyi’s visitor, she froze.

  Those broad shoulders under a brown long sleeved sweater, were jarringly familiar, as was the short curly chestnut hair and shaved neck. She recognized Tony’s sister, Janie.

  Anxious not to be seen, Cara began to inch her way back along the corridor, walking sideways. Then she heard her own name.

  “Cara is not co-operating with Jeff and me.” It was Dr. Rozgonyi talking, her voice razor sharp.

  Cara felt the pulse beating in her neck. What was the connection between Janie and Dr. Rozgonyi? And why would Tony’s sister be interested in Cara’s problems with Jeff King?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  JOHN

  JOHN HAD BEEN with patients for a couple of hours when his nurse caught him in the hallway. She was a blue eyed blonde with that dark, sallow skin tone acquired only in tanning parlors. Seeing her up close, he felt an almost irresistible urge to warn her about the danger of melanoma, but he knew she was too young to believe that anything life threatening could ever happen to her.

  “You leaving for lunch?” she asked.

  “Yes, I was going to grab a bite.”

  “There’s a Sergeant McAuliffe in the office. Says he needs to talk to you.”

  John stiffened. McAuliffe was likeable enough, but anything connected with the law brought back unpleasant memories of the time when John had been under suspicion for peddling painkillers. But what could he do?

  “Tell him to come into my consult room.”

  His nurse gave John a sharp look, but said nothing as she turned to walk away in a cloud of herbal fragrance.

  John sat down and waited. His throat was parched.

  McAuliffe greeted him with a smile that rounded his cheeks, but his eyes remained steady. “Sorry about popping in like this. Catch you at a bad time?”

  A tinge of unease soured John’s stomach. McAuliffe’s manner was way too courteous.

  “No, it’s fine.” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Mind if I close this door?”

  “Sure, of course.” John motioned him to sit.

  “Just wanted to ask you a couple questions about Saturday and Cara’s ordeal.”

  “Why ask me? Hasn’t Cara told you everything that happened?”

  “Oh, sure. I spent an hour with her on the way back from Poland. Got a complete report.”

  “What is it, then?”

  McAuliffe gazed out the window, a muscle quivering in his cheek.

  John shifted uncomfortably. “Come on. Why are you here?”

  “About Saturday. One of our guys saw you in the parking lot at McDonald’s when Doug disappeared.”

  “So what?”

  “You were there, then?”

  John’s face burned. “Actually, yes. But I don’t see what difference it makes.”

  “Just thought you may have noticed something unusual. Might have seen Doug leave.”

  “No. I did not see Doug leave. I’ve never met the boy.”

  McAuliffe’s eyes drifted to the shelves behind John’s desk, to the framed picture of Cara astride Star. It had been taken last spring, when the forsythia had just started to bloom.

  “Cara’s a pretty woman.” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “McAuliffe rubbed his chin, still looking at the picture. “I guess you were upset, her being with the Cabell
a children.”

  “Who told you that? Angie Cabella was my patient. Cara was doing them all a favor, trying to help with their food choices.”

  “It’s my understanding Angie has another doctor now.”

  “She was my patient, until recently.”

  “Did that bother you? Losing a patient?”

  “I didn’t lose a patient. Sorry, but when you say that, it means your patient died. As far as losing a client, or customer, or whatever, it doesn’t bother me. I’m having to refer new patients to other physicians because my solo practice is full.”

  “All right, then. Let’s go back to Saturday. How did you happen to be in the parking lot of McDonald’s?”

  “If you must know, I followed Cara there. I was coming back from the hospital when I saw her car pull out onto the highway.” John stopped for a moment to control his breathing, aware that he was speaking too rapidly. “You’re probably going to ask this, so I’ll tell you. Yes, I was jealous of Tony Cabella. And I knew she’d had lunch with him and hadn’t told me about it.”

  McAuliffe’s mouth was downwardly taut, his facial expression cool and unwavering. “Go on.”

  “Like I said, I followed her to the Cabella house and saw her pick up the two children. Then I followed her to McDonald’s.”

  “And….?”

  “And nothing. I sat there for about five minutes, wondering if maybe Tony was going to show up and join them. When it looked like he wasn’t, I left. I was afraid Cara would look out the window and recognize my truck.”

  “So you weren’t there when the Cabellas arrived at McDonald’s looking for Doug?”

  “No, I was probably halfway home by that time. I fixed myself some lunch and sat down to watch the news. That’s when I learned the boy had disappeared.”

  “Does Cara know you were there? That you followed her?”

  “No, I didn’t tell her. I was ashamed of what I’d done. Let’s face it, I made a complete ass out of myself. Worse yet, I lashed out at her when she came back to the farm. Then she left my house and went chasing after that kid.”