P Is for Peril

they? I mean, from what I was told, they had nothing to do with the day-to-day running of Pacific Meadows. The real fiddle must have come from Genesis, since the Medicare checks were sent to them."
    "There may be more of a connection than you think. Dr. Purcell must have gotten greedy because he began to sign off on charges he knew were fraudulent: X-ray and ambulance services among them. He probably took kickbacks for those. The FBI put the squeeze on him and that's why he agreed to help."
    "But what would be the point of silencing him? There must be plenty of other people who know about the scam. You, for one."
    "I never had any real authority. Now that he's gone, they can blame it all on him."
    "Did he tell anyone else what he knew?"
    "He never said so if he did."
    "But why come to you? I gather you didn't even know him that well."
    "He wanted my help. He figured I had nothing to lose."
    "Do you think he told Joel and Harvey what he was up to?"
    "Not if he was smart. I know he had lunch with Joel that day, but he didn't say anything else about it to me."
    "I don't get it. With all these agencies at work, how come they haven't been caught?"
    She shrugged. "Most of what they submit is legitimate and where the figures are false, everything else looks good. They use standard diagnoses and standard treatments. They're careful not to cross the line in any obvious way. It's like playing the float. They know how far they can push the system before the flags go up."
    "But the flags did go up. Any idea why?"
    "Someone must have phoned in a complaint because I talked to the fraud investigator last week and most of what I told him he already had in his files."
    The phony bills for Klotilde had to be part of the scheme. "I've got some information that should be of help and I'd be happy to do a paper search early in the week if there's time."
    "That'd be great. I'll be talking to him again and I can pass it on."
    "Something else I'm unclear on. Why take the chance on billing items out to someone deceased?"
    "Listen, you're dealing with the local, state, and federal governments. You get caught, you say 'Oops' and give the money back. You think the government would prosecute for a couple hundred dollars' worth of 'errors'?"
    "Yeah, right. What's the story on Harvey Broadus and nurse what's-her-name… Pepper Gray?"
    "He left his wife, Celine, for her and then I heard he went back."
    I studied her carefully, wondering if she'd answer the question that had just come to mind. "Were you the one who phoned in the complaint to Medicare?"
    "Someone else did that."
    "Who?"
    "I'm not sure, but I suspect she did."
    "Pepper?"
    "Yes."
    "Pepper was the one who dimed them out?"
    "Well, think about it. When Harvey broke off their relationship, she was in the perfect position to blow the whistle on them. I noticed her name or initials showed up most frequently on charges for questionable goods or services. She probably dummied up the slips from the floor. Why should she go on protecting him once he dumped her?"
    "Well, they're certainly tight now."
    "Really. That surprises me. Imagine the bind that puts her in if he finds out what she's done…" She let the thought trail, punctuated by a nearly imperceptible smile.
    On my way home, I stopped by the office to pick up some index cards. I had two fresh packs in my desk drawer and I wanted to transfer the notes I'd managed to scribble in my spiral-bound notebook. I drove down Dave Levine as far as Capillo, where I made a left. Passing State Street, I could see that downtown Santa Teresa was deserted in the rain. It was after six P.M. on a Saturday and most retail stores had closed. Their windows were lighted, but the interiors were dim, sporting just enough wattage to foil the roving bands of burglars. I turned into the driveway running under Lonnie's building and parked in the narrow lot beyond.
    I got out and locked my car door. Over the back wall, I could see lights coming from the cottage across the alleyway. I was unable to resist looking at the office space I'd leased one short week ago. The parking lot was empty: no sign of Tommy's pickup truck or his little red Porsche. The upper shutters along the right side of the one-story building were open, but the lowers had been closed. I saw a shadow intersect the light. Maybe Richard was showing the office to someone new.
    I turned away from the sight, knowing I was well out of it. What was done was done and there was no point entertaining regrets.