“You’re on a roll. Stay in touch."
“Later," the attorney said and ended the call.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The newspaper informant had received Carol Freeman’s name from Carol herself, although she already had access to that information through the two reporters. They had both been so nice and so eager to share what they were working on that she had been right in the middle of the story. That is, until Jason Sample finally figured out what she was doing. She had supplied Dominex with both Carol’s and Brian’s names. She didn’t know specifically about Steve Warner’s connection until after the story had been printed. At that point everyone in the newsroom knew about the people who had made the story credible. How had Jason and Sandra figured out her true motive so quickly? One minute she had been in their pocket; the next, out in the street.
Now she was being “let go.” Her compensation for her presence there would not cover her beyond this week. Too bad. As long as she had been useful to Dominex, she had been paid well and she hadn’t even been required to remove her clothes. But ever since the newspaper article, Dominex’s confidence in her ability to keep them informed had died. They had been outwardly angry and informed her that her services were no longer required. In fact, based on her recent track record, they informed her that they would not be contacting her for her services again.
The informant wrote her letter of resignation, stating that she was deeply disappointed in her untimely departure, but that she had a sick family member requiring her immediate attention and long term care. She would continue to look for another way back into Dominex’s world. If she could find any more useful information maybe they would give her another chance.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Paul Pratt was feeling very pleased with himself after meeting with Steve Warner. He was happily searching for Brian’s house and ready for a repeat performance. The scenery was quickly changing from a residential area into a commercial jungle. He picked the paper up off his seat and re-read the street number. Okay, genius, time to turn around. Paul slowed down so that he could read the street numbers. Brian Carter’s house was at least a mile back. He was so busy congratulating himself, he had driven right passed it the first time.
Pam answered the door. When Paul identified who he was, she invited him in. “Brian," she yelled out, causing Paul to jump. “You have company. Excuse me one minute," she said to Paul. “I’ll get him." Paul looked around the expansive living room, noting the expensive décor. He already knew that Brian had taken a leave of absence from the paper, compliments of Ann Boniture’s snooping. If they want to maintain this lifestyle, they’ll need some kind of backup plan.
Brian came into the room looking as though his wife had dragged him out of bed. Pam was on his heels. He ran his hand through his hair, attempting some last minute grooming. “I’m Brian," he announced. “How can I help you?”
“Why don’t we all sit down," Paul began. Pam took the seat next to her husband. “I’ve been sent by Dominex Pharmaceuticals to explain our position and to offer you some compensation for your pain and suffering."
“Sort of at the eleventh hour, isn’t it?"
“That’s true," the attorney agreed, “but the fact is that we didn’t really know the extent of the damage until the paper printed that article yesterday.” Brian shook his head and began to smile. Paul ignored the man’s reaction and continued to explain the company’s position in the same way he had done with Steve Warner. When he finished, he looked to Brian for a response.
Brian was still shaking his head and said, “So, this timely visit is because you just found out about the doctor’s actions?"
“That’s right," Paul confirmed.
Brian nodded.
“And it has nothing to do with the fact that I was instrumental in getting that story printed?”
“Were you?" the attorney asked in surprise.
Brian just laughed at him.
“Brian!" Pam exclaimed, “You’re being rude to our guest. Let’s hear what he has to say." Turning to Paul, she said, “You said something about compensation."
“That’s correct," Paul said, trying to regain his footage. “After our company learned of your need to take a leave of absence, we felt you were entitled to some compensation. So, I’m prepared to offer you one hundred thousand dollars."
“That’s great," Pam said.
Brian held up his hand, indicating that she postpone her celebration.
“And how would that work exactly?"
“We would have you sign a settlement agreement and the funds would be available after Suprame is approved by the FDA.”
“I see," Brian said. “So, by agreeing to accept this compensation, I am also agreeing to keep quiet."
“Brian," Pam gasped. “They’re offering us one hundred thousand dollars, I think they have a right to expect something in return."
“This isn’t a convenient little trade-off," Brian said. “They’re buying my silence."
“And I think that people who can’t hold down a job should be willing to swallow a little humble pie," she yelled back.
Paul didn’t anticipate the yelling match. The house call had turned into a family feud. “I know that this a lot to consider," the attorney interjected. “You should both take some time to think about our proposal."
“I don’t need to think about it," Brian countered. “My integrity is worth more than one hundred thousand dollars."
“We will think about it," Pam stated. “How can we get in touch with you?"
“I’ll contact you in the morning," Paul said, getting to his feet. “Thanks for seeing me," he added humbly and let himself out the door.
Heading for his car he could still hear Pam’s shrill voice. “You’re integrity is worth more than one hundred thousand dollars? That’s really funny," Paul got to his car and closed the door. The sound of the yelling stopped abruptly. Thank God for solid steel.
Brian was going to be trouble. Paul dialed the office number and waited, but there was no answer. Sam was “in between secretaries,” and there was no one to grab his personal line when he was away from his desk. Bad news can wait.
He considered his next visit very carefully. They already knew a little bit about Carol Freeman. She had written a letter to the Georgia Medical Board, which was now making a beeline for the investigation committee. She had contacted Jerry Owens with very specific and damaging information. She was an addictions counselor and apparently had access to a lab for drug screening purposes. Carol Freeman was not the typically uninformed. Had they known about her background, they wouldn’t have accepted her into the study. Too bad they had not thought to include occupation as a one of the screening tools. Paul had deliberately saved her for his last visit of the day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Carol was standing by Josh at the computer. She usually wasn’t home by this time, but she had been skipping out after her last appointment. And after today’s Tri-County Mental Health lynching she was determined to tend to her patients, but would refuse to jump in and help with any other tasks. It wasn’t so much her anger and resentment. It was a question of liability. The less she touched on her way out the door, the less they could pin on her.
The market had already closed for the day and Dominex Pharmaceuticals had taken a dramatic dive. Josh punched a few numbers and held up the calculator for Carol to see. “Is this right?" she asked incredulously. Josh just nodded. “Thirty-three thousand, six hundred and fifty two dollars?" she exclaimed.
“And thirty-two cents," he added.
; “Oh my God," Carol shouted. “That’s a current total of…” she paused to add the numbers in her head, but Josh was way ahead of her.
“Sixty-two thousand, one hundred and fourteen dollars, and forty nine cents," he announced. She just looked at him, unable to find the words to convey her excitement. “And it doesn’t end here," he continued. “That’s only today’s total. We’re still in this."
“Shouldn’t we quit while we’re ahead?"
Josh just patted her on the top of the head. “You be the counselor… I mean retired counselor, and I’ll be the genius trader." Carol just looked at him with a worried face. “Look” he said, pointing to the screen. “I already have an automatic stop loss in place."
“You have a what?"
“I put in an order to automatically take us out of the trade if the value starts going back up."
“Oh, well in that case, I guess it’s okay."
“It’s totally okay. We should go out and celebrate."
Carol, who was normally wiped out by this time every day, suddenly found her second wind. “I‘m game," she agreed. The last thing she expected to do after a day like this was celebrate. But the money far outweighed the scapegoat prize they had awarded her at work. The happy couple went out the door and got into the car. Heading down the road they passed a slow moving vehicle. The man was obviously lost.
Paul found Carol Freeman’s house and went to knock on the door. There was no answer. Without realizing it, he had just passed her coming down the road. Just as well, he thought. After the last encounter with Brian Carter and his wife, he needed to catch his breath. Carol Freeman was going to be adamant about her position. They were aware that she had given notice at her job and that a lot of her reason for leaving was due to her illness, but they also knew that she had been unhappy throughout her employment. For a place that was supposed to be built on confidentiality, the mental health center had been a loose cannon of information. One alleged new patient asking the right questions was able to tap into quite a lot of apparently meaningless information.
So, a big sum of money might not be so easily disregarded. He still had hopes that Brian Carter would come to the same conclusion. Paul decided to call it a day. He would tackle Carol Freeman tomorrow.
Chapter 22
Michelle Roman entered the office of Randall and Moore, Attorneys at Law. She had arrived a few minutes early for her four-thirty appointment. She was ready for her fifteen-year marriage to Charles Roman Jr. to become a faded memory and move on with her life. A friend had told her that Randall was the best. She doubted that Charles would contest the divorce, but she wanted to be prepared. After her first taste of hope yesterday, she had decided to move forward, regardless of Dominex’s fate.
The secretary glanced up as she walked in. Michelle introduced herself, and informed the woman that she was early for her appointment. “Just have a seat," the woman stated. “Mr. Randall will be with you in a moment." Michelle found a seat and began glancing through the magazines on the coffee table. She couldn’t help but notice that there was a lot of focus on “Today’s Woman" and “Single Parent" type publications. Makes sense.
The single parent problem was a non-issue. She and Charles had never had any children. Charles was never home; and even when he was, he never seemed to have the desire to do anything that would result in a pregnancy. His lack of interest in her had been the source of a lot of sleepless nights in the early years. Michelle was not drop-dead gorgeous by any means, but she was attractive in her own right. At five foot four, and one hundred and twenty-five pounds, she had always maintained her trim waistline. She had recently cut her long, strawberry blonde hair, which had run in corkscrew curls down her back, to a more mature shoulder length. She allowed it to assume a wild and untamed appearance that complemented her young face and crystal-blue eyes. Charles had not noticed the drastic change until he overheard someone else complimenting her on the new look.
Michelle had long since given up any need or concern for his approval. Even still, with each passing day of apathy she had grown to hate and resent him. She didn’t need any of these magazines to tell her what she already knew. A person who robs you of your right to be significant is not a husband; he is excess baggage. She had long since learned the art of self-validation. Now she was ready for the liberties that Charles had already taken all through their marriage.
“Mrs. Roman," a voice called out. She looked up to see a strikingly handsome man. She stood and met him in the doorway. The man was in his forties, with piercing brown eyes that seemed to look right through her. “I’m Mark Randall," he said, reaching out his hand. Michelle took it and introduced herself unnecessarily. She looked down to notice that he had a gold band on his left ring finger. Her friend had given her the referral, with one comment. She could still hear the words, “You will begin to notice how many wonderful guys there are and that they are all married.”
She didn’t care. She knew this was the right path. Michelle followed the dangerously good-looking, married attorney into his office. “So, tell me how I can help you today?" he began, giving her a million dollar smile.
“Well, as I mentioned on the phone," she began, “I want to file for divorce.”
She couldn’t help but notice how the attorney was staring at her. Men. They are all scum. Still, she found herself strangely drawn to him. “I haven’t told my husband," she continued, trying to stay focused. “He will be informed when the papers are served."
“Oh, ouch," Mark said, smiling at her once again.
“Don’t feel too sorry for him," she responded, warming up to the encounter. “Without the formality of a divorce it would take him a month to notice I was gone. He’s too busy with his extracurricular activities."
“The man’s an idiot," he confirmed. Michelle decided that she liked Mark Randall, whether or not he stared at her, and whether or not he was married.
“So, what do I do?" she said, returning his smile.
The attorney pulled out a legal size pad and said, “You just answer a few questions and I do the rest."
Michelle gave him all the pertinent information about herself and Charles, emphasizing that she wanted nothing in the settlement except the house and the clothes on her back. The attorney gave her an occasional nod as he continued to take it all down until she mentioned her husband’s line of work. Mark stopped writing and looked at her. “Your husband is the CEO of Dominex Pharmaceuticals"
“That’s right," she laughed, “but don’t hold that against me. I have nothing to do with that company."
“But I thought you said you weren’t asking for anything but the house and your personal possessions."
“Right again."
“Michelle," he said thoughtfully, “you might want to rethink this."
“If I ask for any part of his precious company, he’ll fight this," she warned.
“Your husband has had numerous affairs, is that right?" the attorney asked, jotting something down on the pad.
“Numerous affairs would be an understatement."
“Do we have any proof?"
“You mean besides the credit card bills listing hotel charges ten miles from our house and friends going out of their way to keep me updated on his activities?"
“That’s a good start."
“So, the occasional phone call from one of his girlfriends would be a good addition?"
“He had women calling him at the house?"
“No, he had women calling me at the house," she continued, “and then they would get upset when I confirmed that he was married.”
The attorney continued writing and looked up at Michelle. “Why don’t y
ou leave the gory details to me," he concluded. “I’ll get you that divorce, but I’m guessing that you’d be okay with an extra few million dollars to start out with." Michelle thought about it for a moment. She had never considered a scenario that included one extra penny beyond her acquired savings.
“Okay," she said finally. “Why not?"
“Then I’ll be in touch," Mark said, extending his hand once again. “He’ll be served with divorce papers tomorrow. I’ll have the process server present them at his office."
“That’ll be a nice touch," she said, accepting his hand. “Thanks."
“My pleasure," he said, holding her hand a moment too long before releasing it.
Michelle’s head was swimming on the way home. She felt certain her friend had set her up. Someone without a ring on his finger might’ve been a better choice. She was going to have to contact the woman and give her hell. Aside from the strange flirtation, she felt good about the meeting. Her freedom from that repulsive little toad of man was in sight.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
It had only been two days since the article had hit the paper and Dr. George Donovan was already in a deep hole. It was an early Tuesday morning, and Sally was home worshiping the porcelain god. The added stress of the past two days had not helped to improve her condition.
He read the letter from the Georgia State Medical Board for the third time. It was basically informing him that he was currently being investigated as a result of a patient’s complaint against him. He was being required to submit a copy of Brian Carter’s file and to be prepared to submit other files if needed. He knew full well that this investigation had nothing to do with one patient. The newspaper article had opened up the floodgates of hell. There was no tangible proof, only people’s perception and the validity of their word.
Donovan didn’t even remember who Brian Carter was. He got up to retrieve the file and brought it back to his desk. Carter had been in to see him only once. He had been given Suprame under the guise of “the vitamin” scam and had not returned. His revised chart stated that he had been given the option to resume or withdraw off the sedative and chose to terminate the drug. The chart documented one follow-up contact by his staff and stated that the patient had refused further treatment.