P Is for Peril

field?"
    Elementary ed. My dad says you shouldn't job-hop because it looks really bad on your resume'. Like you're shiftless or something, which I've never been."
    "Well yeah, but on the other hand, if you're interested in teaching, there's no point hanging on to a job that doesn't suit."
    "That's what I said. Besides, Mrs. S. is real moody and gets on my nerves. One day she's sweet, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, and then she turns around and acts all crabby. I mean, what is her problem?"
    "What's your guess?"
    "Beats me. They're still looking for someone to fill the position, which gritches her but good. She thinks she should be promoted instead of just being used is how she put it."
    "If she did get promoted, who would she replace?"
    "Mrs. Delacorte. She's the one who got canned." I kept my expression neutral. Not only was she bored, but she hadn't learned the basic rules, the most compelling of which is never, never, never confide company secrets in the likes of me. I said, "Golly, that's too bad. Why was she fired, has anybody said?" My lies and fake behavior are usually heralded by "Gollys" and "Gees."
    "She wasn't fired exactly. It's more like she was laid off."
    "Oh, right. And when was that?"
    "The same time as Mrs. Bart. She's the bookkeeper since way back when. They were interviewing for her position the same time I applied for this one."
    "How come?"
    "How come what?"
    "I wonder how the bookkeeper and the administrator got laid off at the same time. Was that coincidence?"
    "Not at all," she said. "Mrs. Bart was let go and Mrs. Delacorte got upset and raised a stink. Mr. Harrington suggested she might be happier finding work somewhere else, so that's what she did. This is all stuff I heard." She stopped what she was saying and her eyes seemed to widen behind the red plastic frames. "You're not taking notes. I'm not supposed to gossip. Mrs. S. is hell on that."
    I held up my hands. "I'm just making conversation 'til the rain lets up."
    She patted her chest. "Whew! For a minute, I got nervous. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression. I mean, it's like I told her, I'd never blab anybody's private business. It's not in my nature."
    "You and me both," I said. "So who's Mr. Harrington? I never heard of him."
    "He works for the billing company in Santa Maria."
    "And he's the one who hired you?"
    "Kind of. He interviewed me by phone, but only after Mrs. S. had already approved my application. That's the way it works around here. Make the guys think they're in charge when we're really the ones who do everything."
    "I thought Dr. Purcell did all the hiring and firing."
    "I don't know anything about that. I was here less than two weeks when he, you know, ran off or whatever. I think that's why Mr. Harrington was forced to step in."
    "Where's Mrs. Delacorte work now? Has anybody said?"
    "She's over at St. Terry's. I know because last week she stopped by to visit with Mrs. S. Turns out she found a great job so it's worked out fine. Getting laid off can be a blessing, though it didn't seem like it at the time is what she says."
    "What about Mrs. Bart?"
    "I don't know where she went."
    "Did you know Dr. Purcell?"
    "I knew who he was, but that's about it. That's his office in there. He just like, you know, vanished. It really gives me the creeps."
    "Weird. I wonder what went on."
    "No telling. The whole staff's upset. All the residents adored him. He made sure everybody got a card on their birthday and stuff like that. He paid out of his own pocket just so all these pitiful old people would feel special."
    Has anyone made a guess about what happened to him?"
    "It's all they talked about at first. I mean, not me so much because I hardly knew him."
    "What kind of thing…"
    I could see Merry wrestle with her conscience, deliberating a good seven seconds before She-Who-Never-Blabs leaned toward me. "Promise you won't repeat this…"
    "I won't even say it once."
    She lowered her voice. "Mrs. S. thinks he left the country."
    I lowered my voice, too. "Because of…"
    "Medicare."
    "Oh, that's right. Someone mentioned that before, but I didn't have a chance to ask. Meaning what?"
    She said, "F-R-A-U-D. Last winter, the OIG-"
    "OIG?"
    "Oh, that's the Office of Inspector General. They're part of the Department of Health and Human Services. Anyway, OIG faxed us this list of charts and billing records they wanted to see. Mrs. S. said at first Dr. Purcell didn't think anything of it. They do that sometimes just to