twenty-three thousand dollars that were owed for his emergency care.
I gave an embarrassed titter. “I need to know who paid for my brother. He . . . Well, he’s not good with bills, and I’m kind of responsible . . .”
The rep misunderstood me. “Don’t worry about that, honey. Our cashier looked at the money, it wasn’t counterfeit.”
“But who paid for him?”
I heard her clicking at her keyboard. “His friend said the receipt should be made out to your brother.”
“Did he give his own address?” I asked. “On Bobolink Road in Highland Park?”
She clicked her teeth. “No, he said he was at 1005 North Inscape Drive in Deerfield.”
“Oh, dear,” I said. “That’s his ex-wife’s address. Well, it can’t be helped. Thanks for looking after him. He probably didn’t tell the doctors about his risperidone, either. You should add that to his chart.”
The helpful rep said she’d pass a note on to the doctor who’d treated my brother.
The address Rodney had given, on Inscape Drive, belonged to Anton Kystarnik and/or Owen Widermayer at Rest EZ. As his worried sister, I hoped Rodney would stay there, firmly put, for a month, but I was more afraid he might be looking for me and for Karen Buckley’s computer.
40
Karen, Revealed
Mr. Contreras and I were climbing into my Mustang when a strange truck pulled into the parking lot. I reached reflexively for my gun, but Petra bounded from the passenger seat, as lively as a new puppy. Mitch broke from me to rush to her side, while Staff Sergeant Jepson climbed down from the driver’s seat, followed by Tim Radke, who’d been squeezed into the back.
“Afternoon, ma’am, sir,” Jepson called to Mr. Contreras and me. “You on your way out? We spent the day on your gal’s computer, and Tim thinks he’s got a lot of it sorted out.”
I explained that I needed to get the dogs home for the dog walker but invited them to follow us north. Mr. Contreras enthusiastically seconded the motion, mentioning my chicken. “Big enough for five, right, doll, when we make some fettuccine.”
At home, Jepson helped me check around the building to make sure Rodney or his minions weren’t lurking.
“So, Vic, Tim totally hacked into this computer. He’s amazing. You should hire him!” Petra yelled as I made my painful way up the three flights of stairs.
“It wasn’t cheap,” Tim warned me. “I had to download some pretty expensive software to come up with her password—none of Chad’s dad’s ideas worked.”
“I told him to go for it,” Petra sang out cheerily.
“Out of curiosity, little chickadee, how much is expensive?”
“Uh, thirty-two hundred dollars,” Tim mumbled.
“Thirty-two hundred, hmm? So—at fifteen dollars an hour—well, rounding up to give you the benefit of the doubt—that would be two hundred free hours of work you can give me, Petra.”
“But, Vic,” her big eyes opening so wide her lashes brushed her brows, “I knew this was important. And I didn’t want to wake you up after you got injured.”
“No, Peetie, that was thoughtful. That’s why I’m rounding your salary up as a thank-you. You see, you’re working for me. I’m paying the bills. And I probably know a vendor who could get me a better deal on software than you can.”
Petra glowered at me. “You’re not serious. I can’t afford—”
“Then you need to learn to think twice, or even three times, before committing me to debt, Petra.”
I looked at her seriously for a beat. “I will let you off the hook this time. But if you do such a thing again, I will hold you responsible for paying for it. Clear?”
“I told you I wasn’t a robot—”
“Clear?”
“Oh, all right!” She stomped back down the stairs.
Tim Radke, who’d been standing by uncomfortably while we argued, said he thought he should pay for the software, since he was the one who talked Petra into buying it.
“No, we’re cool on this. Petra just needs help curbing her magnanimous impulses.” I headed on up the stairs and left Radke to follow Petra back to Mr. Contreras’s place.
Jake Thibaut was on his way out as I reached the third floor. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of days, and he was surprised by my painful progress upward.
“Your hand bothering you?” For a bass player, an injured hand was worrying enough to cause a limp.
“Not so much. I’m just tired. See you before you fly out?”
“Not if it means looking at something gruesome stuck into your body.”
To my surprise, I found myself fighting back tears. “I’ll wrap myself in gauze,