Royal Pains : Sick Rich (9781101559536) (16 page)

Fifteen, I thought. So young. She looked more mature, but she was still only a child.

“What's your name?” I asked.

“Rapunzel.”

“Really? You don't look like a Rapunzel.” I can play this game, too.

“Whatever. What difference does it make?”

The woman rolled her eyes and sighed. “Meghan. Her name is Meghan. I'm Millie Samuels. Her mother.”

“Okay, Meghan or Rapunzel,” I said. “Why don't you sit here on the exam table?”

“I'm fine. Just leave me alone.”

Millie glared at her. “Get up there now. Do what he says or you'll be grounded for a year. You hear me?”

“How could I not?” Meghan yanked her arm free and climbed up on the table. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, I'm here.”

My exam showed that her blood pressure and heart rate were elevated slightly, pupils dilated and poorly reactive, and reflexes hyperactive. The signs of amphetamine use.

“When did you take the pills?”

She looked toward the floor.

“It's important,” I said. “You're showing signs of amphetamine intoxication and I need to know if you're coming down or still heading up.”

“I don't remember.”

“Then I'll have to send you over to Hamptons Heritage's ER for blood testing.”

“You can't do that.”

“I can,” Millie said. “And I will.”

“Actually your mother can, but she doesn't have to,” I said. “I simply make a call and sign a document and I can hold you in the hospital for up to three days.”

She looked at me. “No.”

Gloria chimed in. “That's so Nazi, dude.”

“Totally,” Katy said.

“And the same goes for you two,” I said to Gloria and Katy. “I can hold all three of you if I think it's in your best interest.”

“That's too radical for words,” Katy said.

“Not to mention totally random and mean,” Gloria added. She locked her arms across her chest, her chin jutting toward me.

I looked back at Meghan/Rapunzel. “You see, we physicians have an obligation to take care of sick folks even when they refuse to listen to reason. What that means to you is that if I feel your life or health is in danger from drugs or from some psychiatric condition I can hold you against your will until it's all straightened out.”

“Mom?”

Millie held up her hands. “Don't look to me, young lady. You always want to be treated like an adult, so act like one and answer his questions.”

“Three hours. I took one pill three hours ago.”

“Where did you get them?”

She glanced at her mother and then down. “I don't remember.”

“I see. Excuse me a second.”

As I walked out toward the HankMed van to be out of earshot, I flipped open my phone and made a call. Ten minutes later, a patrol car pulled up next to the booth and Sergeant Willard McCutcheon and Officer Tommy Griffin stepped out. I introduced them and they flashed their badges. Now Meghan, Katy, and Gloria seemed nervous. I was glad something had finally grabbed their attention.

McCutcheon listened attentively to Gloria, Katy, Meghan, Evan, and Danielle, each telling their story about the mysterious couple. Griffin scribbled notes while McCutcheon asked questions. Each of the kids seemed to answer without hesitation. Fear is a great motivator. Finally he straightened his shoulders and hooked his thumbs in his belt.

“Okay, here's the deal. Meghan, you can go with your mother. If it's okay with Dr. Lawson.” I nodded. “Gloria and Katy, I want you to call your parents to come pick you up.” Katy started to protest, but he waved her away. “No way you're going to leave here by yourselves. So either you call your parents or I will. You choose.”

“Or you can ride home in the back of our squad car,” Griffin added.

“That might work,” McCutcheon said. “We could pull right up to your house. Let the entire neighborhood see you in the backseat. Caged in like a criminal. We can arrange that if that's what you want.”

All their drug-induced joy was gone. Their shoulders drooped in resignation.

“Okay,” Katy mumbled. She pulled her cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

“Hank,” McCutcheon said. “A word?”

We walked out behind the booth, near the van.

“We'll snoop around the area, but I doubt we'll find much since all our guys are in uniform. Tomorrow I'll have some undercover guys sniffing around. Hopefully we'll find these clowns.”

“Sounds good.”

“Wish we had more to go on, but at least the descriptions I just heard match what Kevin Moxley told us. It helps that everyone saw the same couple.” He looked back toward the booth where Gloria stood close to Katy, whose head was down, phone pressed to one ear. “This world is all sideways.”

True story, as Katy and Gloria would say.

McCutcheon and Griffin waited until Jillian Weber, the girls' mother, arrived and then had a no-nonsense talk with her. The sisters cowered as their mother fumed. She listened attentively to McCutcheon, casting an occasional scowl at her daughters. I then explained the drug, or rather drugs, that they were taking in those innocent-looking pink pills.

Jillian spun toward her daughters. Her anger, peppered with a healthy dose of fear, I imagine, erupted. “How could you be so stupid? Put some chemical you bought from some lowlife in your bodies? Why not simply shoot yourselves?” Her lips quivered. “You weren't raised that way.”

“But, Mom—,” Katy began

“Don't you dare try to make an excuse. Wait until your father hears about this.”

“Please,” Gloria said, “don't tell him. We won't do it again. We promise.”

“I'm not going to tell him,” Jillian said. “You are. He's going to be so hurt and disappointed.” A sob caught in her throat. “He works hard. Gives you girls everything. And this is how you thank him? Thank me?”

“Mom—”

She held up a hand. “Not another word. You hear me?”

Jillian thanked me for taking care of her daughters and for explaining everything to her, and McCutcheon for not arresting them, adding that “a night in jail might do them some good.” She then herded them toward the parking lot.

I wouldn't want to be one of the Weber girls. Looked like they were in for a rough evening.

Chapter 19

“You both look delightful,” Angela said. “You'll be the hit of the party.”

Evan and Danielle each did a three-sixty spin, the capes of their spy costumes flaring around them. Danielle was a little more graceful than Evan, but at least this time he didn't knock anything over.

After leaving the health fair, Evan and Danielle stopped by the costume shop to pick out a matching outfit for Danielle. Divya and I brought Angela to Shadow Pond with us, and while she and Divya chatted I began dinner. Yes, me. Nothing fancy. Not an Evan dinner for sure. I opted for Caesar salad, spaghetti with marinara sauce, and garlic toast.

The sauce, which came from a jar, though I added some ground beef, sausage, and extra garlic, simmered on the stove, its aroma pulling a growl from my stomach. I had somehow missed lunch and Wiggins Water, no matter how good it is, will carry you only so far.

I glanced at my watch. Jill was running late. Again. She's usually the most punctual person I know, but the health fair had knocked her schedule off track for months. After the fair closed this afternoon, she'd had a vendors' meeting followed by a meeting with the security personnel who would watch over the booths tonight.

Danielle did another turn and glided over to where Angela sat in a wingback chair, sipping wine.

“Grandma, I wish you would come to the party,” Danielle said.

Angela waved a hand toward her. “I'd be a drag. Parties are for youngsters.”

“But I don't want you sitting home alone on the Fourth of July.”

“I'll be fine.”

“You know you're welcome to come with us,” I said. “We'd love it if you did.”

“You're just saying that.”

“I mean it. It would be fun. If for no other reason than the fireworks. I understand Nathan Zimmer is planning a huge display. Out over the ocean.”

“Really?” Angela said. “That must be costing him a bundle.”

“He can afford it,” Evan said.

“It's pocket change to him,” Divya said.

“I do love fireworks,” Angela said.

“Then come,” I said. “You'll enjoy it.”

“I'll think about it.”

“Don't think, just do,” Danielle said.

“But I don't have a costume.”

“That's easy to fix,” Evan said. “We'll go back by the shop on Monday.”

“I won't be a spy,” Angela said. “Or one of those highway robbers you talked about.”

Danielle laughed. “Actually, Grandma, I think you'd have been an excellent spy. Highway robber, too.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That you're clever and witty and can do just about anything.”

“Not that I'm a larcenous old fool?”

“I would never say that. Especially the fool part.”

“They have some wonderful colonial ball gowns,” Divya said. “You would look marvelous in one of them.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely. But maybe I should take you. I'm not sure you want Evan picking your costume for you.”

“He picked mine,” Danielle said.

“But that was easy. You'd look good in anything.”

“That's not true.”

“Really?” Divya asked. “Let's see a show of hands.”

We all raised a hand.

Jill walked in. She stopped in midstride and looked at us. “What's this about?”

I explained.

She raised her hand. “Then I'll make it unanimous.”

I popped the garlic toast into the oven and dropped the pasta into the pot of boiling water and twenty minutes later we all gathered at the dinner table. Everyone said the spaghetti was excellent. I think they were just being nice. But then again, it wasn't bad.

The conversation returned to Nathan's party.

“I think you should come,” Jill said to Angela. “It'll be fun. A true Hamptons event.”

“I know. I just don't want to be in the way.”

“You won't be,” I said. “And if you get tired and want to leave, we'll take you home.”

“I wouldn't want to spoil your evening, dear.”

Jill laughed. “Are you kidding? Knowing Hank, he'll be looking for an exit after half an hour.”

“Funny,” I said.

“No, true.”

“And Evan and I will be your bodyguards,” Danielle said.

“How could I refuse that? My own spies.”

“Then it's settled,” I said. “You're coming.”

Angela sighed. “Okay. I'll do it.”

“We'll hit the costume shop Monday morning,” Divya said.

With that decided, the conversation turned to the health fair. Jill was thrilled. Everything had run smoothly with no real hiccups. The turnout surpassed expectations and the vendors and booth renters reported brisk sales of their products.

“Rachel Fleming signed contracts for two new vehicles today,” Evan said. “She also said she set a dozen appointments for the next couple of weeks.”

“Jonathan Wiggins completely sold out of his mineral water,” Jill said.

“What he didn't give away,” I said.

Jill nodded. “He's a good guy, and he's always supported the clinic. He also asked if I'd put him on the list for a booth next year.”

“I guess the only negative was the kids we saw on drugs,” Divya said.

“It's amazing,” Angela said. “Today's kids are different. I know when Danielle was growing up she wasn't exposed to all the things teenagers see now.”

“I get the impression that in her case it wouldn't have mattered,” I said.

Danielle laughed. “That's true. I was always the jock chick. Sports don't leave much time for trouble.”

“I can't believe they were selling that stuff right there at the fair,” Jill said. “Seems incredibly brazen to me.”

“It is,” I said. “From everyone's description it seems to me that they would stand out in the crowd. I mean her long hair and his ponytail?”

“Not to mention selling at school and the beach,” Divya said. “Not exactly dark corners.”

“They've been lucky,” I said. “But I'd put my money on Sergeant McCutcheon. He seems like a bulldog to me.”

“I wouldn't want him after me,” Evan said. “He sure scared Katy and Gloria Weber.”

“That he did,” Divya said. “He even scared me, and I didn't do anything.”

“But you look devious,” Evan said.

Divya raised an eyebrow and pointed her fork at him. “You want to rephrase that?”

“You might want to reconsider,” I said to Evan. “She does have a sharp instrument.”

Chapter 20

I got up early Sunday morning and went for a run at the beach. As I drove over, I listened to the weather report. Not good. Today was going to be even hotter than yesterday. As I ran I watched the sun rise into a perfectly clear sky. There was little breeze. By the time I finished my run, sweat plastered my T-shirt to my chest.

Didn't bode well for the day. I had visions of stretcher after stretcher of the overheated and dehydrated.

When I got back home the aroma of bacon greeted me. Evan was in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

“How do you want your eggs?” he asked.

“Whatever you're having is fine with me.”

“Scrambled it is.” He began cracking eggs into a bowl.

“It's going to be another hot one.” I stripped off my T-shirt. “In fact it already is.”

Evan added a little milk to the eggs and began beating them with a fork. “Jonathan Wiggins said he would stock his booth with extra cases of his mineral water today. He said if we needed any just let him know and he'll bring it by.”

“Jill has already arranged to have more water stations than we had yesterday, so hopefully everything will be better.”

Evan dumped the eggs into a skillet. “I wouldn't count on it.”

I hoped he was wrong.

Turned out he was right.

For the first hour, things at the HankMed booth were quiet, but they picked up after that. By eleven a.m. the temperature was soaring and we began seeing our first cases of dehydration. Mostly kids and mostly minor. Wiggins Water became the treatment of choice.

The kids seemed to like the mineral water more than the adults did. I thought that was odd, since it wasn't loaded with sugar and caffeine like those energy drinks that are everywhere. And people want to know why kids can't concentrate and why they act out in school.

Jill stopped by a couple of times. She actually had little to do, as everything seemed to be going smoothly. A testament to her organizational skills. I told her that.

“You doubted me?” she asked.

“Never. Just that the first year of anything is usually buggy.”

“It helps to have the right volunteers,” she said.

“And finding those people was your job. So, good job.”

“I could stay and listen to that all day, but unfortunately I'd better go make the rounds again so everything will keep running smoothly.”

Divya and I continued seeing the usual minor stuff––bumps and scrapes and even a dislocated little finger. An eight-year-old boy who fell while racing around the track. A painful injury for sure, but mostly very scary-looking. To see your finger angle out in an odd direction is frightening. As it was for the boy. His tears evaporated when I tugged and snapped it back in place. The pain gone and the finger mobile again, he wiped his tears away with the back of his hand.

“Let's get an X-ray done, but I bet it'll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” his mother asked. “It looked like it was broken.”

“These dislocations usually look worse than they are. There's almost never a fracture involved.”

I was right. No fracture. The boy was fascinated by the X-ray of his hand and his mother was relieved that the only thing required would be a splint for a few weeks. I arranged for them to follow up with an orthopedist and they headed out, the mother promising ice cream.

By noon, the temperature approached ninety and what breeze there was offered little relief. Jonathan Wiggins dropped off more of his mineral water. Divya was finishing up with an elderly couple who had come in for respite from the heat when Principal Hyatt showed up. The couple had each finished a bottle of Wiggins Water, and Divya handed them two more as they left, telling them to stay in the shade.

“Another hot one,” Hyatt said.

“Yes, it is,” I said.

“Mind if I grab one?” Hyatt asked, indicating the case of mineral water.

“Please do.”

He chose a lemon-lime. He twisted off the cap, took a couple of swallows, and then examined the label. “This is good. I've never tried it before.”

“It's popular,” I said.

“I'd suspect it'll be even more popular after this weekend,” Divya said. “Jonathan Wiggins said it was selling so fast he couldn't keep stocked.”

“He's been donating some to us and to the Hamptons Heritage booth.”

“That right?” Hyatt asked. He took another swig. “I'll stop by and see him. Thank him for his generosity.” He propped a hip against one of the exam tables. “I had a talk with the Weber family last night.”

“Oh?”

“Jillian called. She told me about the girls. Katy is one of our juniors. Gloria's a sophomore.”

“How'd it go?”

“Heated. Bill, the girls' father, was furious. Understandably so. His initial reaction was to put them in rehab. Jillian tried to talk him down, but he wouldn't listen, so she called me.”

“The life of a high school principal.”

He nodded.

I knew it wasn't the life of most principals. Most saw their obligations end at the schoolhouse door. Not Hyatt. He took every kid to heart. Maybe too much so, but that's the way he was. His reputation told me that that was the only way he could do things. So he often found himself in the midst of family dramas.

“But once things cooled down, we made some progress. The bottom line is that Katy and Gloria are good kids. They do well in school and have a very bright future. Bill and Jillian have done a good job raising them. Instilled all the right values. When I finally convinced Bill of that, things smoothed out.”

“So the girls aren't going to boot camp?” Divya asked.

Hyatt shook his head. “They simply made a mistake. Folded to peer pressure. Had never done that before. Or so they said.”

“The excuse of every teenager,” I said.

Hyatt rubbed his chin. “True. But I think Katy and Gloria are different. Don't get me wrong—I've had hundreds of students look me in the eye and lie. I've even been fooled before. But after all the years I've been at this I've developed a sort of internal lie detector. It's not perfect, but it's pretty good.”

Experience will do that. Physicians develop the same sense. After a few years of treating patients you develop a sense for when they are being truthful and when they are holding back, or making something up, or maybe simply telling you what they think you want to hear.

It might seem more logical to lie to your high school principal than to your doctor. After all, with the principal you are often in some sort of trouble when you visit his office. Such visits are rarely social and are usually more disciplinary in nature. Lying to protect yourself or your friends, though still wrong, is completely understandable. But lying to your doctor? Why would someone do that?

There are many reasons. Not admitting your own failures or weaknesses is one. Something that is never easy to do. Things like yes, you are still smoking or drinking too much or no, you're not doing your daily exercise or no, you aren't taking your meds every day as you know you should. Some see this as disappointing their doctor and that makes them uncomfortable.

Then there's the fear factor. Fear that your doctor might uncover something awful. If you don't tell him about the symptoms you fear most he won't find that awful thing. Symptoms like shortness of breath, chest pain, dizziness, abdominal pain, and a host of others go unmentioned, even denied.

It's the mental equivalent of closing your eyes, covering your ears, and saying, “La-la-la-la, I can't hear you.”

Not smart, but common.

So doctors, principals, cops, and many other so-called authority figures learn to spot lies.

“The solution we came to was for the girls to promise to never do drugs again and for them to have random drug tests anytime their parents want,” Hyatt said.

“The girls agreed to that?” Divya asked.

“Not sure they really had a choice. Bill agreed not to punish or ground them for this episode if they agreed to the testing.”

“That sounds reasonable to me,” I said.

“I think they'll do fine,” Hyatt said. He finished his mineral water and tossed the empty into the recycle box in the corner. “I also spoke with Sergeant McCutcheon this morning. He has six undercover guys here today, including Officer Griffin and himself. Maybe he'll grab the dealers.”

“If they come back today,” I said.

Hyatt walked to the front of the tent and looked out toward the infield. “Bet they will.” He turned back toward us. “They see this as a rich market. Full of potential customers. Greed will get them caught.”

“I hope you're right.”

“Let me know if any of my other students show up on that stuff.”

“Will do. And McCutcheon.”

“What about McCutcheon?”

The voice came from outside the booth. I looked up as McCutcheon and Griffin stepped around the corner. They looked like tourists. Khaki shorts and Hawaiian shirts, McCutcheon's white and green surfboards on a yellow background, Griffin's dark blue with red and green flowers. The world of the undercover cop.

“And don't say a word about
Hawaii Five-O
,” McCutcheon said.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” I said. “Even if it does fit.”

He laughed. “Been a long time since either of us went undercover. This is the best we could come up with.”

“You make a cute couple,” Divya said.

“Not you, too.”

“We caught a little grief from the other guys this morning,” Griffin said.

“But you'll blend in, and that's what counts,” Hyatt said.