Free Fall

16

Christine is ready to talk.

“Shona Oppenheimer wanted me to, more or less, spy on my other home health care client, Dr. Arnold Rosen.”

“The dentist?” says Nussbaum. “Why?”

“Shona’s sister, Judith, is married to Dr. Rosen’s oldest son, David.”

“And?” He does the gimme-gimme gesture again.

“Shona told Judith to recommend me for the position at her father-in-law’s house.”

“Why?” The lawyer scribbles something on his legal pad.

“They wanted me in Dr. Rosen’s house so I could find out stuff.”

Nussbaum looks like he’s about to turn purple again. “Stuff?”

“Dr. Rosen is a very private man,” Christine explains. “He won’t allow family members to accompany him when he visits his doctors. He also refuses to sign the HIPAA forms that would give medical professionals permission to talk to his children about … anything.”

“Does he let you go into the exam rooms with him?”

“Yes. But only because I’m an RN. And I have to leave if, you know, the doctor puts on a glove and asks Dr. Rosen to …”

Marty give her another spin of his hand. TMI-Too Much Information. Time to move on.

“Judith, that’s Shona’s sister …”

“Yeah, I got that bit.” Nussbaum circles what he had written earlier on the legal pad.

“Judith was worried about her father-in-law’s medical condition. I could understand. I mean, if my parents were ninety-four, I’d want to know everything I could about their health.”

“But Dr. Rosen didn’t want his kids knowing diddly?”

“That’s right. And since he used to be a dentist, he reminded me of my own oath as a nurse. Our code of ethics.”

Ceepak’s eyes light up the way they do whenever somebody else mentions their Code.

“Enlighten me,” says Nussbaum.

“Some people call it the Florence Nightingale Pledge. We all stood up and recited it when I graduated from nursing school. I solemnly swore to ‘hold in confidence all personal matters committed to my keeping and family affairs coming to my knowledge in the practice of my calling.’”

Now Ceepak is nodding like a happy bobble-headed doll.

“So, long story short,” says Nussbaum, “you didn’t do what you were hired to do in Dr. Rosen’s house?”

“Not according to Judith. So, she kept pressuring her sister. Nagging Shona to have me write up reports about Dr. Rosen’s doctor visits. To Xerox any medical records I could find. To feed Judith information.”

“What kind of information?”

“Anything having to do with his health. Physical and-” Christine hesitates. “Mental.”

“What?” says Nussbaum. “You think they wanted him declared mentally incompetent? That way they could ship him off to a nursing home or the nuthouse so they could move into his mansion?”

“Sorry, Mr. Nussbaum,” Christine says with a frown. “I know you’re trying to help me, but I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to speculate about family affairs that came to my knowledge while engaged in the performance of my professional duties.”

“Agreed,” says Ceepak, who is a stickler about obeying the whole code even when it would be easier to chuck the parts that work against you.

“Okay, okay,” says the lawyer. “Fine. Not important. So why did Shona strangle you that night?”

Christine takes in a steadying breath. “I had just caught her rummaging around in my shoulder bag, looking for medical information about Dr. Rosen, I guess.”

“Did she find anything?”

“Of course not. We keep all those kinds of documents at Dr. Rosen’s house in a locked filing cabinet.”

“So all you were doing the night of the altercation was protecting your patient’s right to privacy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. That’s good. That’s excellent. By the way, how is Arnie doing?”

“Very well. Especially for someone in his nineties.”

“Tell him I said hello.”

“I take it you know Dr. Rosen?” says Ceepak.

Nussbaum smiles. Points to his teeth.

“In this town, who doesn’t? I mean, if you’re a certain age. For years, Dr. Rosen was the dentist in Sea Haven. Capped four of my molars. Even his root canals were painless.” Nussbaum flips through more papers. “This TRO. Who signed this thing, again?”

“Judge Ken Guarnery,” says Ceepak.

“What a putz. My guess? Mrs. Oppenheimer’s late husband, ‘Slick Opie’ Oppenheimer, handled the judge’s investment portfolio back when Guarnery was just a schmuck lawyer, which he was, believe you me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the dearly departed Arthur Oppenheimer bankrolled Kenny Boy’s first run for the bench. My gut tells me the judge owed Mrs. Oppenheimer, big time. Why else would the yutz sign this thing? Okay. Now you two boys in blue need to leave. My client and I have to talk. In private.”

After Christine finishes up with her lawyer, we shuttle her back to Beach Lane.

“Do you need to be anywhere right now?” Ceepak asks, once Christine is back inside the house with Dr. Rosen.

“Nope,” I say.

Yes, it’s Saturday, around 5 P.M. and, once again, I have no date. Maybe, once this restraining order dealio is done, I should follow up on Mrs. Ceepak’s advice. Ask Christine out.

“Rita is working the Early Bird dinner shift at Morgan’s Surf and Turf,” says Ceepak, explaining why he isn’t rushing home. “I’d like to swing by the boardwalk. Check out the Free Fall. Make certain they are obeying our shutdown order.”

So we head back to Pier Two.

When we walk up to the towering ride, it’s still idle.

But there is a new sign dangling off that chain barrier: “Opening next weekend!”

Bob, the manager guy, comes strolling over when he sees us checking out the ride.

“Howdy, guys. Been meaning to call you two. We’ve hired an operator who fulfills all your requirements. He’s a carnie from up north. He’ll be here next weekend.”

“Has he been trained and certified by the manufacturer?”

“Yep. Trained at their factory in Sandusky, Ohio. He faxed us a copy of his license and the factory certification.”

“We’ll need a copy of it.”

“Sure. I’ll fax it over first thing Monday. You’ll get a kick out of it, too.”

“How so?”

“Guy has the same last name as you.”

“Come again?”

“Our new operator. His name is Joseph Ceepak. Any relation?”

Ceepak’s face goes ghostly white.

“Yes. He is my father.”