against their holdings. It’s a civil suit. As long as we can show damages, the judge will most likely rule in our favor. It might take a while, but I don’t think any of the doctors will object.”
Fergus eyed Charles. Nope. They certainly wouldn’t be around to object. And lawyers wanted to get paid, which they wouldn’t. And since it would be a civil action lawsuit, there would be no court-appointed attorney or public defender. “According to our calculations, their entire net worth is around thirty million.”
Charlotte gasped. “Thirty million? That much?”
“Yes. We have been able to find a hundred and sixty-seven of their previous patients. Victims. That sum would probably be enough for everyone to be reimbursed,” Nikki added.
“The insurance company is going to pay Marjorie Brewster’s family a reward for the return of the stolen cars. It’s around four hundred thousand dollars. That should help her recovery. Speaking of which, she has turned a corner and is able to smile and acknowledge people in the room. They’re hopeful she will continue to improve,” Myra said.
“My head is spinning.” Charlotte chuckled. “What about the diamonds?”
“We’re throwing those into the overall fund,” Annie said. “The other piece of good news is that Norma Marcus’s check for the kennel club cleared before they froze the account!”
Everyone applauded, and the pups howled their approval.
After a bit more conversation, they signed off, but not before promising to speak again in a few days.
Chapter 38
During the arrests, none of the officers in any of the raids spoke except to give the prisoners instructions. “Sit down.” “Shut up.” The officers remained indifferent, despite the demands and screams of those they had arrested. For two days, Corbett and Steinwood were kept in isolation. Steinwood had been arrested in New Jersey and Corbett in New York, and both were taken to an undisclosed location. Each was incarcerated in a solid concrete cell. Each cell was soundproof. Neither of them knew of the other’s whereabouts or what was to come next. Steinwood demanded his one phone call but was told it would have to wait. Corbett received a similar denial. Neither could get anyone to talk to him, creating panic and fear in both men. Marcus lay in a semi-comatose state in a hospital in London. He was probably better off than the other two.
Food was brought to them in plastic pails. They had to eat in a six-foot-by-nine-foot space they shared with a bucket of their excrement. They had not showered, either. The smell alone was enough to make someone vomit.
Demanding shrieks bounced off the walls of Corbett’s soundproof cell, but only he could hear his rage. Steinwood remained silent. He was convinced it was all a bad dream, and he would wake up at any minute. Marcus, on the other hand, had recurring nightmares while he went in and out of a state of semiconsciousness. All in all, the three men had been cut off, in one way or another, from civilization.
* * *
Near the end of the second full day of incarceration, the clanking of keys drew Steinwood out of his trance. Locks clicked, and the door opened, and what appeared to be a camera flash went off in his face. A large figure stood over him.
“Turn around,” the figure demanded.
Steinwood obeyed the order while fearing the worst. The man pulled Steinwood’s arms behind his back and secured them with a zip tie that Houdini himself would have had trouble slipping out of. The man shackled Steinwood’s ankles together, put duct tape over his mouth, and placed a burlap bag over his head. Steinwood could not stop himself from urinating in his pants.
The large man looked down. “Too bad the Laundromat is closed,” he said. “Now walk.”
Steinwood tried to mumble something.
The large man said, “Shuffle,” and gave him a nudge. “Move! Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall down a manhole.”
Steinwood moved slowly as his urine-soaked pants stuck to his legs.
* * *
Corbett ranted almost the entire time he was awake. He thought he might go mad.
Did he hear keys, or was he beginning to hallucinate? A bolt turned, and a bright light filled the cell. It almost blinded him. Someone took his photo. He could not figure out how long he had been sitting in the corner, trying to avoid the stench of his own excrement. He rubbed his face and felt what he thought might be two full days of stubble.
A large man filled the doorway. “Stand up,” he commanded. “Turn around.”