P Is for Peril

tucking a bite of burger in her cheek so she could answer. "Hardly anybody wants to steal geriatric charts."
    "How'd you like to be a lookout? I could use some help."
    She hesitated, suddenly a lot less cocky. "Oh, dear. I don't know if I could do that. I'm not good at sneaking. Even as a child, I could never manage it well."
    "Ruby, it takes practice. You can't expect to be good unless you're willing to apply yourself."
    Her already diminutive body seemed to shrink. "I'll try, but I don't think I'll do a very good job of it."
    "I'm sure you'll do fine."
    Moments later, I watched through her partially opened door as she wheeled herself down the hall toward the nurses' station around the corner. Her single responsibility-aside from chatting with the staff- was to park her chair so she could keep an eye out, making sure no one headed for the office while I was mucking around in there. The layout of the corridor was such that I could get in without being seen, but I was worried one of the nurses would come looking for a chart that wasn't out on the floor. Seemed unlikely, but I'd have no way to explain myself if someone happened to barge in.
    I allowed time enough for Ruby to reach the nurses' station, and then I slipped out of her room, pulled the door shut behind me, and turned right, walking down the hall as though I had legitimate business there. I passed the dayroom, the entrance, and the dining room. The doors to both the dayroom and the dining room stood open, but all the lights were out. I paused, leaning against the wall. Like an animal on the hunt, I closed my eyes, taking in the scents, deciphering the secrets that lingered in the air. This was the world of the elderly: cinnamon rolls, pine scent, freshly ironed cotton, and gardenias.
    When I reached the administrative offices, I took a deep breath and tried the knob. Locked. I considered using my key picks, but I was uneasy at the prospect of loitering for fifteen minutes while I manipulated the tumblers with assorted snap picks, torquing tools, and bent wire. Surely, there was a better way to go about this. I retraced my steps, returning to the front desk, which was abandoned at this hour in the dimly lighted alcove. I slipped behind the counter and searched through drawer after drawer. I kept my ears tuned, alert to any warning sounds that might signal someone's approach. In the bottom drawer, I saw a metal file box that opened at a touch. Inside was a small compartmentalized tray with various keys, all neatly tagged and labeled. Yea for my team. This was really more exciting than a scavenger hunt. To be on the safe side, I took three; one for Administration, one for Admissions, and one for Medical Records. I closed the lid on the box, slid the drawer shut, and scurried down the hall again.
    I started with Administration. My hands trembled slightly, 1.2 on the Richter scale, but otherwise I did all right. Once inside, I didn't dare risk a light, though the door itself was solid. My chief concern was that someone pulling into the side parking lot would wonder why the windows were alight at this hour. I reached down my shirt and removed the flat pinch flashlight from its hiding place in my bra. When I squeezed it, the plastic felt warm and the beam emitted was wee, but sufficient for my purposes. I took a moment to reorient myself. I'd seen this office previously by day and I had a fair sense of how the space was organized.
    On the far side of the counter was Merry's desk, which was arranged back-to-back with an identical desk. In addition, there were several rolling file carts, the copy machine, and a row of metal file cabinets along the far wall. Merry's computer screen was dark, but a small dot of amber pulsed steadily like a heart. In the darkness, I couldn't see the big wall clock, but I was aware of its relentless click, click, click as the second hand measured the circumference of the face. To my right was the door to Dr. Purcell's office where I'd had my chat with Mrs. Stegler. To the left was the door that connected this office with Medical Records. I flashed the light on my watch. It was 10:22.
    Cautiously, I tried the door to the Medical Records department, which I discovered was unlocked. Oh, happy day. I swept my light across the space, yawning and dark, with four desks, a worktable, assorted chairs, and a copy machine. File cabinets were built along the periphery of the room with an additional double bank down the middle. On the far wall, I saw