“Same here,” Lindsey said. “If it’s true, it’s a deeply guarded secret.”
“With billions on the line,” Bruce said.
“So let’s speculate,” Polly said. “You’re Nelson Kerr and you’ve written three bestsellers, none dealing with drugs, healthcare, the like. You’re approached by an informant, probably someone working for the drugmaker or the nursing homes, and this informant wants to talk. He wants to expose the bad guys.”
Bruce said, “And he also wants some money. He’s sticking his neck out and he wants to be compensated.”
“Why not just go to the FBI?” Polly asked.
“Because he’s not sure it’s a crime,” Lindsey said. “The drug is prolonging lives, not killing people.”
“But it’s fraud, right?”
“Don’t know. It’s never been litigated, never been heard of. The informant isn’t sure he’ll get anything for blowing the whistle. He has a conscience. He’s frightened. He needs his job. So he decides to approach Nelson Kerr, an author he admires.”
Bruce said, “And Nelson started digging and asked too many questions. The bad guys realized they might have a problem, and they were probably watching him. When they realized what he was doing, they panicked and decided to take him out.”
“A really stupid move,” Lindsey said. “Think about it. It has already been reported that he died under suspicious circumstances during a hurricane. He had just finished a novel, his last one, and it’s about to be published. Can you imagine the media frenzy when word leaks that the author was murdered? If you’re the guy who ordered the hit, publicity is the last thing you want. There will be more people digging into the murder while the book is flying off the shelves. A really stupid move by someone.”
“Agreed. But who?” Polly asked.
“We’ll find out,” Lindsey said.
“I’d like to hear your plan,” Bruce said.
“We are paying for it,” Polly added.
Lindsey relaxed in her chair and kicked off her sandals. She took a sip of wine and seemed to savor it. Noelle appeared in the doorway and said dinner would be ready in five minutes if anyone wanted to wash up.
Lindsey finally said, “Initially, we’re moving on two fronts. The first one we’ve discussed and it calls for Bruce to become the literary executor, sell the book, and generate as much buzz as possible over the author’s death. We hope that this will attract Nelson’s informant. The second front involves the infiltration of the industry. There are eight companies that control ninety-five percent of all nursing home beds. Six are publicly traded, and because they answer to shareholders they generally comply with regulations and stay out of trouble. The other two are privately owned and both are bad actors. They get sued all the time and are notorious for health violations, shoddy recordkeeping, pathetic facilities, it’s a long sad list. You wouldn’t want anyone you know staying in one of their homes. Both are billion-dollar corporations. So, we go in.”
Bruce and Polly were left hanging and waited for more. Finally, Bruce said, “You used the word ‘infiltrate.’?”
“Yes. We have methods. We’re not the government, Bruce, and, as you know, we have ways of gathering information that some might consider in the gray areas. We never break laws, but we’re also not bound by such legal niceties as probable cause and valid warrants.”
Polly said, “Excuse me, but what are we talking about?”
“I’ll explain it over dinner,” Bruce said. “But you’re working for us, Lindsey, and it’s fair for us to ask if you operate outside the law.”
“No. We know the gray areas. As do you, Bruce.”
7.
Noelle was an excellent cook and her lobster ravioli was well received. The conversation was about flood insurance, or lack thereof, and how many people on the island were realizing that their losses were not covered. As with all storms, the early responders and aid groups were crucial and much appreciated, but with time they had moved on to the next disaster.
Bruce filled his wineglass