The Protocol: A Prescription to Die (13 page)

BOOK: The Protocol: A Prescription to Die
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Chapter 31

Barbara was back in her office. After spending the afternoon with a dolt and a freak, she needed to be alone. She longed to have a conversation with someone having an IQ higher than a toothpick and, from what she could observe, neither of these guys fit the bill. They each served their purpose though, and she was paying both of them very well.

Based on Titmueller’s efficiency, she’d be able to increase the protocol assignments by at least ten percent, if not twenty, very soon. His knack for completing the protocol assignments, while at the same time processing the bodies, was, if nothing else, impressive.

Butch, on the other hand, was too quiet and self-aware. She could normally read people like a book. He had her uncharacteristically flummoxed. The jury was still out on him. His assignments were not as critical to operations. He was her glorified errand boy. He had a presence that no one dared question. It was a quality she needed.

Right now, for some reason, Teague was turning out to be a sliver in her palm. Barbara didn’t believe in coincidences.

Omens? Yes.

Teague was an omen. She felt it immediately after leaving the nurse’s office, and after Teague had the audacity to ask her a question. Then just a few hours ago, the short, unexpected conversation with him in the hospital’s staff lounge only made the feelings more intense. If she had hair on her back, it would be at full attention right now.

Teague was going to cause her trouble. She was sure of it. She just wasn’t sure how much. It was her job to minimize and prevent any trouble or bad press, and that’s precisely what she planned to do.

Information and the access to it were paramount to her success; she was positive that she had the upper hand in that battle. She clicked on the application that provided her entry into the IRS, Social Security, and Minnesota vital statistics databases. Any information she found there was a jumping point to hundreds of other databases at her fingertips. The beauty of her organization’s authority was that privacy laws did not apply to her.

Chapter 32

Eat’s last appointment was with Tim Leake, a partner from Gordon, Leake, and Bluthe Funeral Homes. Leake was the funeral director who arranged Eat’s father’s funeral services. The one man who, at this point in time, Eat despised the most. Tim Leake was the man who handed Eat a bag filled with chicken bones and concrete mix in lieu of his father’s ashes. Eat’s premise for the meeting was a mythical lost wedding ring that belonged to his father.

Eat walked into the funeral home at 3:45. It made his stomach writhe as it brought back the memories of the day he had to come and sign the papers authorizing his father’s cremation. The smell that struck him the minute he walked in had the same effect on his digestive tract. It was an odd combination of hospital antiseptic, church incense, and cedar. It was a smell Eat would forever associate with death. He walked up to the receptionist’s desk. His image reflected back at him from the dark, glossy hardwood floors.

“May I help you?” she asked in a whisper.

Serene pipe organ music played quietly over the sound system, apparently to calm those in need.

“I’m here to see Tim,” he whispered back.

Eat recognized the song. It was The Old Rugged Cross; a favorite of his mother’s.

“And you are?” she smiled politely.

“Oh. Sorry. Evan Teague. I have a 4:00 with him.”

The woman, Emily according to her name tag, pressed a button on the phone console and adjusted the microphone that she wore strapped to her head. In a few seconds, he heard her say, “Mr. Teague is here to see you Mr. Leake.” She looked at the clock on her desk and nodded. “Yes. I will. Thank you.” She pressed another button and moved the mike away from her mouth. She turned and looked back to Eat.

“Mr. Leake will be right with you. Would you like a cup of coffee or a bottled water, Mr. Teague?”

Eat wasn’t trying to be mean or intentionally rude to her, but he didn’t give her the chance to get him anything to drink. He started walking towards the suspected villain’s door without acknowledging her any further.

Chapter 33

Barbara was thankful for the Internet, and all of the information it provided. It certainly made things easy. What was even better was the fact that most of the information she found was free. The results of the research Barbara conducted on Teague proved very interesting; she was definitely impressed, and that was not easily done. Based on the data she’d uncovered, he was a thirty-five year old genius. A multi-millionaire several times over. He’d made his fortune by developing software for the DOD, DOE, and a vast array of corporations around the world. According to the US Patent Office, he held over one hundred patents specializing in data security, system architecture, and artificial intelligence.

Financially, the guy didn’t have to work a single second for the rest of his life. He was set. Nonetheless, he was apparently still churning out the software. Companies bought his software on his reputation alone. Her research dug up at least five different bank accounts, three separate investment accounts, and various purchases of precious metals. Those were the ones that were just in his name. There were at least four other accounts in his company’s name: 314159.

“What the hell kind of name is that?” she mumbled.

Barbara was certain that there were shielded offshore accounts somewhere. Without access to those, she wouldn’t have his complete financial picture.

His parents, Betty Lou and Anderson were holders of Aequalis insurance policies but he was not. He was what the industry called a self-pay. Soon, the simple fact of not having insurance would be a federal offense, and he’d be getting a visit from the IRS.

The thought of that made her feel warm.

Teague’s father, Anderson, was dealt with earlier in the year. His mother, Betty Lou, was destined for the same treatment. Barbara turned her attention to the program she used to analyze the healthcare costs of a claimant.

She shook her head in disgust.

The Teagues were a perfect example of why Aequalis was made in the first place, and why she’d been put in charge. There was no reason on God’s green Earth that the elder Teagues should have been allowed to live as long as they had.

Strike one: neither provided any benefit to society.

Strike two: they were both very expensive to maintain.

Strike three: they both collected Social Security.

Three strikes. Game over.

The fat lady sang and was pulled off of the stage long ago. The elder Teagues should have followed her example and voluntarily exited stage left.

Now it was up to her to intervene in life, and balance the scales. After all, thought Barbara, it’s what’s done to old dogs and lame horses, and they don’t seem to mind.

The father’s expenses alone were expected to be more than $200,000 over his lifetime. Luckily, he was one of the first to have his account with Aequalis closed. Given his telomere length, he could have lived at least another twenty, very expensive, years. Teague’s mother was just as bad, if not worse. To date she had cost more than $150,000 and projections exceeded $550,000 for her lifetime, which was estimated at another thirty years based on her telomere length. She wondered why Teague’s mother hadn’t been dealt with earlier. Barbara decided to remedy that, and pulled her notepad closer to write a reminder to herself to schedule Betty Lou Teague’s protocol assignment.

Barbara had access to all of the federal databases, but she was on her own when it came to the social networking apps. Although clunky, and not as efficient to use, they ultimately provided the information she needed to fill in the blanks about Teague’s personal life. Teague was in a four-year relationship with Andrea McCorkendale, a forensic pathologist for the city. Once she had a name, she was able to dig deeper. Evidently, McCorkendale had turned down several attempts to promote her out of the lab and into the front office. According to the data in front of her, she was a very successful pathologist: quotes taken, papers written, books published. She was extremely successful by her own right, and the discovery sent shivers down her spine.

It was another omen.

It wasn’t a good one.

Intelligent people scared her.

Barbara picked up her phone.

Chapter 34

Tim Leake was a scarecrow; tall, lanky, and rail thin. Eat considered himself somewhat tall and skinny, but he at least had some bulk. Compared to Eat, Tim was downright skeletal. His weathered face, and balding head left no question about his scattered, uneven approach to the runway of middle age. Despite his awkward appearance, Leake was no doubt a very successful businessman. At twenty-five, he and Nolan Gordon opened their first funeral home in Edina. Five years later, they had opened five more in various Minneapolis suburbs. At thirty-five, he and Nolan brought in another partner, Angela Bluthe. She not only had her degree in mortuary science, but a Masters in business operations specializing in marketing. From their competition’s point of view, it created a perfect storm. With her added expertise, their mortuary empire expanded to more than thirty funeral homes throughout Minnesota, North Dakota, and South Dakota. Now their billboards were splattered across the Midwest and were as common as thistle and crab grass. No one died without Gordon, Leake, and Bluthe knowing about it.

Eat approached the hallway containing the offices. Mid-way down the hall, a door opened and Leake crept out. Eat half expected to see straw poking out of his shirtsleeves and a pole sticking out of his ass.

There wasn’t.

Evidently he hid it well.

“Mr. Teague. Good to see you again,” Leake said as he stuck out his hand.

Eat shook it.

Politely.

He was careful not to grasp too tight in fear he might break something. Deep down, though he wanted to rip the man’s arm off, and shove it down his throat.

“Let’s go in my office. Did Emily offer you something to drink?”

Eat had to swallow and remember what Andy told him. “Yes. She did. I’m fine thanks. I don’t want to take much of your time.”

“Oh. It’s no problem,” he sat down at his desk and motioned for Eat to take a seat. “So. You mentioned that you were looking for a ring?”

“Yes. My father’s wedding ring. I was wondering if it was perhaps left here with his body before it was cremated.” In truth, he had it in his safe at home, but Mr. Leake would have no way of knowing that.

Leake turned to his computer and began typing. Eat was able to watch, and remember, every keystroke.

His username: tleake.

His password: Babyface123.

Complete with a capital B.

Inside, Eat was laughing uproariously.

Babyface?

When Eat saw a logo appear at the top the screen though, he had to work extra hard to hold his stomach down, and not choke on his own spit.

It was the logo for Aequalis Health Services.

“You’re associated with Aequalis?”

Leake gave him a look of surprise.

“Yes. We’re partners with them now. We’re an official service provider. Why? Have you heard of them?”

“Not much. Seen the billboards. That’s about it.”

Eat wondered if he was at all acquainted with Her Royal Pointedness, Barbara Nordstrom.

“Ok. Here’s your dad’s file,” he scanned the screen. “His body was prepared at our downtown facility. Then cremated four days later. Does that sound correct?”

“Sounds good. You don’t do the work here?”

“Heavens no. We have a primary facility downtown to serve the metro area, and one outside of Alexandria that we use to service the outlying areas.”

“I didn’t realize that.”

“Yes. It’s in the warehouse district, downtown. 33rd and Washington. That’s also where the cremation takes place, and where we’ve installed our new resomation tanks.”

Eat truly didn’t know what Leake was talking about and his face evidently showed his confusion. It was the same look that Eat always saw on people’s faces when he started talking bits, bytes, data clouds, binary transforms, and chaos theory.

“Resomation?”

“It’s a new way to die. Very green. It basically dissolves the body. Leaves the bone. The solution in the tanks can be used hundreds of times. At the end, we just pulverize the remains like we do for cremation. It’s better for the environment.”

“Eco-friendly death. Interesting.”

“It’s all the rage in New York and California. We’ll have Minnesota’s first facility. I expect our Edina clientele to be the first adopters.”

“Could I have done that for my father?”

Leake looked back at the screen and scrolled to the bottom.

“Not at the time. We were just getting the tanks installed. But you were wondering about a ring. Correct?”

“Yes. His wedding ring.”

Leake clicked another window and a document popped up on his screen. At the top, Eat could see “Personal Property” and an itemized list below it.

“It says here that he had a wallet, two gold crowns, and a watch. All were returned to you. No ring though.” He scrolled further down. “See here?” He pointed to the bottom of the page. “You signed that you received the belongings.”

Eat wrinkled his face in mock uncertainty. He squeezed his chin between his thumb and forefinger, “I wonder what could have happened to it?”

Leake got up out of his chair and stuck out his hand again. Eat was being dismissed.

“I tell you what. I’ll make a few calls to the facility and see if anyone has found, or seen, a ring. I’ll give you a call if anything turns up. Sound ok?”

Eat shook his hand again, reluctantly, but politely. The man’s hand made Eat felt dirty, unclean.

Cadaverous.

“Sounds good. Thanks for your time.”

Leake gently led Eat out of his office with one gangly hand on his shoulder. When they reached the hallway, he released Eat from his frosty clutch, returned to his cave, and shut the glass door behind him. Eat paused and turned around, intending to ask another question, but Leake was already on the phone, and staring at him with his beady, scarecrow eyes.

He doubted that his afternoon acting was very convincing.

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