typea_all (19 page)

     "They may be gone for the day, but you can leave a voice message, if you want."

     "That will be fine."

     The phone range about six times, but instead of an answering machine, a real human answered.

     "Wallace Bingham here."

     "I'd like to speak with the president of the casino, please."

     "That's me, Wally Bingham."

     "You answer the phone yourself?"

     "The office staff left already, and I was just about to go myself. How can I help you?"

     Now that I reached the top, I figured I’d better lay it on a little thick.

     "My name is Brooke Castle. This past weekend I brought some very important people over to the Wild West. We were hoping to scope out the buffet."

     "Yes?"

     "Some of them drove all the way in from South Philadelphia, and one of them was almost in labor, if you know what I mean."

     "I think so. How can I help?" He was being very polite, which almost spoiled my fun.

     "I know you wouldn't want to disappoint such important people. Believe me when I say that they are quite influential, especially in the old neighborhood. They know a lot of people, and you wouldn't want the casino to get a bad reputation."

     "What would you like?"

     I thought fast.

     "We'll be back in two weeks. We're happy to pay, we're not asking for a comp or anything. Can you just get us right in without waiting in line next time?"

     "Sure, I can do that. The next time you go, see the manager on duty and tell him that you're Mr. Bingham's party."

     That was easier than I thought.

******

     I ran into Lipschitz when I entered the lab on Tuesday

     "It was great seeing you out of uniform on Friday," he said. Somehow, that sentence coming from Lipschitz made my flesh crawl. "Your boyfriend seemed nice. What did you think of Emily?"

     "She was lovely," I told him.

     "I couldn't help noticing what happened when you guys left the restaurant."

     Here it comes.

     "Some kind of fight or something?" he added.

     "Just some drunk guy. Ryan got upset but it was nothing."

     "Strange, but I think I've seen that guy around."

     "Really?"

     "Yeah, but I can't remember where. Hey, how about the four of us getting together some time?"

Let me see, has hell frozen over yet? "Sure, that would be great."

As he was walking away, "Nice earrings, by the way."

"Thanks." I was wearing my scallop earrings; a matching set of scallop shapes with fake pearls.

     Joan was obviously out of it that day. We had a male patient test positive for pregnancy. It took all of my control not to call the guy to tell him that he was pregnant, but I behaved myself. Joan felt terrible about it. It seems that labels fell off of two urine samples and she switched them putting them back. It wasn't that serious, though, we just swapped the results between the patients.

     A little while later, we had a teenage girl with a high PSA. Imagine being a cheerleader with a prostate problem? Not a pleasant thought. That was a little harder to correct, but we sorted everything out.

     After that one, though, Joan let me do most of the tests and she called in a temp phlebotomist. Joan knew I was an ASCP and trusted me, even if Lipschitz didn't. It really felt great being back in that part of the lab and with Joan's help I quickly got up to speed on everything.

     In the middle of the afternoon, Lipschitz showed up and ruined everything. Why can't lab directors mind their own business and stay out of the lab?  I was doing some routine tests, when he walked in.

     "What are you doing in here?" he asked.

     "Joan wasn't feeling too well, so I'm filling in for her."

     "No one told me about that."

     "We didn't think you would mind," I told him. Actually, nobody cared what he thought.

     "Well, you were hired as a phlebotomist. You shouldn't be in here."

     "John, have a heart. Joan's not feeling well. I can do everything, anyway."

     "What's wrong with her?"

     "Woman problems. She was really feeling sick and had to lay down a little."

     "Who's taking blood?"

     "Joan called in Sally, the temp phlebotomist."

     "She's not authorized to do that. We have a budget to worry about, you know."

     "Did you want her to throw up all over the samples? Do you know how hard it is to get vomit out of a centrifuge? You have to get in there with a little test tube brush, and..."

     "Okay, I get the picture. Where is she now?"

     "In the lounge, resting. Please leave her alone. She just needs a little rest, that's all."

     "You sure you're okay here? No problems?"

     "Everything is perfect, just fine. I could do this stuff blindfolded. With one hand being my back. With my feet tied together."

     He walked out mumbling to himself and went back to his office in the hospital.

     By 3 PM, Joan was feeling better, but I continued to do the tests. She sat, double-checking on what I did, and we chatted. I really didn't mind her looking over my shoulder. After all, it had been a long time since I did tests and I didn't want to make any mistakes. I was hoping to get back into the lab on a regular basis sometime.

Chapter 18

     Wednesday morning, I was about to heat up my bagel for breakfast when there was a knock on the door. I was wearing a set of white scrubs and my pit bull earnings. It was just the mood I was in. I opened the door to two nicely dressed guys.

     "Brooke Castle?"

     "Yes."

     They showed me their badges.  "We're with the Atlantic City field office of the FBI. I'm Agent Samuels, this is Agent Jackson."

     Both of them were clean-cut and clean-shaven, excellent examples of what your everyday federal agent should look like. Samuels had a nice smile on his face, looking more like a scout selling magazine subscriptions. Jackson, on the other hand, frowned, which made his forehead wrinkle over like the extra skin on a bloodhound.

     "How can I help you?" 

     "Can we come in please?" Samuels.

     Why me? Why at 8 AM in the morning? And why after I just cleaned the floor last night?

     "I would prefer not, if it is okay."

     "We have a lot to talk about, and it would be better if we could sit down."

     "Hold on a minute."

     I grabbed two sets of booties out of the closet.

     "You can come in, but please take off your shoes and put on these booties. I just cleaned."

     Because I showed some sign of resistance, Jackson took over the inquisition. "I'm sorry ma'am. FBI agents aren't allowed to take off their shoes while on duty."

     "Well, then I'm sorry. No booties, no getting in. I don't care if you're with the CIA, DEA, or EPA."

     "That's interesting that you mentioned the DEA, ma'am."

     "Just another set of initials. What's this all about?"

     "We really can't discuss it outside here. If you want, we could get a federal warrant and return."

     "Is it really that important?"

     "I'm afraid so."

     "But I'm already late for work."

     "We'll call the hospital and clear you some time," Samuels volunteered.

     "How did you know I work at the hospital?"

     "Ma'am..."

     I thought about my options. If I let them come in, then I'd end up spending the rest of the day cleaning up after them. On the other hand, if I went with them someplace I'd have to sit down and get my scrubs dirty. The scrubs would get dirty anyway if I went to work, and throwing them in the wash would be easier than cleaning the house.

     "Listen, here's the deal. I won't let you in the house without booties, but take me to breakfast at Ozzies, get me off from work, and I'll talk to you all day."

     "That's a restaurant, ma'am. We have to talk in private."

     "It's off season. Just flash your badges and ask to be seated in the back room. They never use the room off-season during the week. It will be as private as you want."

     The two looked at each other, and then Jackson told me to follow them in my car to the restaurant.

     I ordered chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon. They got coffee.

     "Did you call the hospital and tell them I was going to be late?"

     "We took care of that from the car."  Samuels showed me a picture. "Do you know this gentleman?"

     It was Mr. No-Neck from the mall.

     "I don't know who he is, but I did meet him once."

     They showed me a picture of me and Mr. No-Neck sitting in the food court.

     "Is this a photograph of that meeting?"

     "Yes. How'd you get that picture?"

     "Can you tell us why you called that meeting?"

     "I didn't call any meeting. He asked me to meet him there."

     "That's very unusual ma'am. When this gentleman meets someone, it is almost always at his own place of business, not in public."

     I suppose Jackson was feeling left out, because he jumped into the conversation. "Here's what it looks like to us. You set up that meeting. You picked the place. You even got there early and took a seat facing the entrance but close to an exit.  Big Jimmy doesn't go anywhere unless he's been told to go by a very important person."

     "Big Jimmy?"

     "What did you talk about?"

     "Can you tell me what this is all about? Please."

     "Let's try something else." He put the pictures away and took out a small tape player.

     "How do you know Wally Bingham?"

     "He's president of the Wild West, isn't he?"

     "Yes."

     "I don't know him."

     "Listen to this, ma'am."  He pressed the Play button.

"My name is Brooke Castle. This past weekend I brought some very important people over to the Wild West."

Stop.

     "I just called him to get us into the buffet."

     "Who are us?"

     "My girlfriends. That's all."

     He pressed play again.

"Some of them drove all the way in from South Philadelphia, and one of them was almost in labor, if you know what I mean."

Stop.

     "What union were you talking about?"

     "Union?"

     "Yes, labor union."

     "No labor union. Sophie and Joyce are having a baby."

     He pressed play again.

"I know you wouldn't want to disappoint such important people. Believe me when I say that they are quite influential, especially in the old neighborhood."

Stop.

     "You were talking about South Philadelphia."

     "I don’t know what I was talking about.  I was just trying to get into a buffet, that's all."

     "Okay, now tell us again about your conversation with Big Jimmy."

     "Before I do, I just have to find the waitress. I need some more butter for my pancakes and cream for my coffee."

     Jackson nodded to Samuels.  "You stay here, ma'am. I'll go get it." I watched him go and rated his rear about 8.

     With Jackson gone, I said, "So you really do play the good cop bad cop routine. I thought that was just in the movies."

     "In this case," Samuels said, "we're not playing. Jackson's not a very nice person."

     "Very good, you keep it up to the bitter end. But if it helps any, I don't believe that."

     "And why's that?"

     "You're wearing a wedding ring and Jackson's not. A handsome guy like Jackson, single, and with a big badge to impress the girls, should be happy all of the time.  I saw you drool over the waitress's legs as she took our order. You must be frustrated as hell. Doesn't make for a happy camper."

     Jackson returned with some butter and a pot of cream.  As he entered the room, though, I saw him quickly change his wide smile into a frown. He must have been flirting with the waitress.

     "Okay, I'm ready to talk," I said. "You beat it out of me."

I summarized the entire story: Reynolds falling on the floor, trying to get me to take blood from Bruno, the Lincoln, the meeting at Ocean One, and the slut-show at R and R Construction.

     "And that's everything?"

     "Everything, I swear."

     Jackson looked like he didn't believe a word I said. "Okay, ma'am. Here's my card. If you have any other contact with any of these people, please let us know as soon as possible."

     "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

     "Sorry, ma'am, we can't, especially until we corroborate your story. Just let us know if they contact you again."

     As they got up to leave, I asked "What did you tell my boss?"

     "We told him that you were cooperating with a federal investigation and that you would not be at work today."

     "The whole day?"

     "Yes, ma'am."

     "And what did my boss say?"

     "He said we could have you as long as we needed you."

     This was great! I really needed some time off, so I decided to go food shopping. I was already dirty from sitting in Ozzies, so I figured I'd grab a cart and tool around the market a little. I drove home and got my box of coupons, and then went over the Longport Bridge to the supermarket in Somers Point.

     Food shopping is real fun because it combines several of my favorite things: using coupons and defensive driving. In fact, it was in a busy market a few years ago where Ryan got a good look at the real me.

     They had predicted a huge snowstorm, so the market was filled with old people buying enough cat food to last the winter. Ryan came with me to help.

     Now my space is very important to me. I respect other people's space and I want them to respect mine. So when someone brushes against me, or hits me with their cart, I get really annoyed.

     I had done rather well during the whole excursion and was in line waiting for my order to be rung up. I had my cart behind me as a barrier, when some old man slammed his cart into mine. I stand with one foot on the bottom of my cart to prevent it from hitting me on occasions like this.

     "Hey, watch it. You can't go anywhere until I'm done anyway," I told him.

     He noticed the coupons in my hand.

     "What's all that?" he asked.

     "My coupons."

     "Lady, this place is mobbed; it's no time to use coupons."

     I ignored him.

     "Did you hear me, lady? It's too busy for you to use coupons."

     "It's none of your business. It's a free country and if I want to use coupons I will," I told him. I looked at the cashier. "I can use coupons, right?"

     She nodded her head.

     "See, I can use them. Now mind your own business."

     I thought it was all done, and then slam! He banged his cart into mine again, so I gently pushed my cart back toward him with my foot.

     He pushed his cart into mine even harder.

     I pushed mine back even harder.

     He pushed his cart one more time, which was once too much.

     I used both hands to slam my cart into his as hard as I could. My cart hit his, his cart caught him in the stomach, and the guy went down on the market floor.