Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THOMAS
This afternoon is my first session with Finley, and while I’m excited to see her again, I’m a little less than thrilled to be dressing up. Having said that, revenge against my parents is going to be so sweet, the pain of pretending will be more than worth it.
So far this morning, I’ve seen one little girl who fell off her bike and broke her wrist, one woman with a second-degree oil burn—darn those homemade hash browns—and a man with kidney stones. By Elk Lake standards, that means it’s been a busy start to the day.
While I’m washing my hands after my last patient, I hear my name called over the intercom. “Dr. Culpepper, please pick up line one. Dr. Culpepper to line one,” the voice repeats.
I walk over to the closest telephone hanging on the wall. Picking up the receiver, I say, “This is Dr. Culpepper.”
“Thomas.” The voice of my boss sends chills of dread through me.
“Constance, what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you were free for lunch today.” Is she serious?
Yet, she’s still my boss, so I don’t feel comfortable telling her to take the hint already. “What is this about?” I ask. If it’s business, I’ll have to see her. If it’s personal, I’ll make sure I have other plans.
Her tone is borderline flirty. “I wanted to discuss the auction for our Spring Fling.”
“I’m not participating with that part of the event, Constance. What does that have to do with me?” I ask warily.
“We’re asking all the staff to donate something we can raffle or to help find donations. The money we raise this year will be used to repaint the pediatric wing. We want to make it bright and cheerful for the kids.”
That’s obviously a great cause. As such, I tell her, “I’d be happy to make a monetary donation, but I don’t have anything to auction off.”
“How about your time?” she asks, her voice dripping in innuendo.
I have a feeling I know where she’s going with this, but I’m going to need her to spell her intentions out. “What do you mean by my time?”
“You could auction off a date or something,” she practically purrs. “We can discuss it at lunch.”
“I’m sorry, Constance. I can’t have lunch with you today. I’m meeting my lady friend.” I hurry to remind her, “Which also means I’m not going to go on a date with someone else, even if it is for charity. I will, however, be happy to write you a check to put toward painting.”
“I suppose if that’s all you can do …” Are you kidding me? How can a person in a professional situation, let alone my boss, actually sound pouty about my refusing a date?
“If there’s nothing else,” I interrupt her, “I’m still on duty.”
“That’s all for now, Thomas.” This sounds like a threat. Like she’s going to track me down every chance she gets. Which I wouldn’t put past her.
Instead of responding, I merely hang up the phone.
One of the nurses walks by me. Becky is in her fifties and looks like one of those friendly moms from a sitcom. “You look like you just ate a bad burrito,” she tells me. Reaching out to touch my forehead with her hand, she asks, “You okay? You’re not coming down with anything, are you?”
I don’t want to gossip, but I also want to find out as much about Constance as I can. It’s in my best interest to know if she has the potential of turning into a serial stalker. “What do you know about Constance Brucker?” I ask Becky.
Her brown eyes open widely in surprise. “What do you want to know?”
“Is she … you know …” Psycho? A bunny boiler? But I don’t ask that. Instead, I go with, “A good person to work for?”
“I don’t have a lot of exposure to her,” Becky says. “But I get the feeling that that’s what you’re asking.” She takes my arm and leads me to an empty bay. Then she pulls the curtain around us and asks, “What’s going on, Thomas? You can trust me.”
I hem and haw before clearing my throat. As I have no one else to ask, I finally confess, “She wants to go out on a date with me.”
Becky rolls her eyes and groans, “Yuck.” She follows that up with, “I mean, oh. How do you feel about that?”
I don’t want to come right out and bag on the woman, so I say, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to date my boss.”
Her chin bobs up and down. “That’s what Dr. Monroe told her.”
“Who’s that?” Not only haven’t I worked with a Dr. Monroe yet, but his headshot is not on our wall of fame.
“Bill Monroe. You were hired to take his place,” she tells me.
“Did he leave because of Constance?” I realize I’m jumping right into gossip territory here, but this is information I need to have.
Becky exhales loudly. “He claims he had a family emergency and had to move back to Rhode Island to be near his parents.”
“But you don’t believe that.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t. Because Dr. Monroe was hired to replace Dr. Greg Post, who was also a single, good-looking man.”
“And he left because?” I ask.
“Because he filed and won a sexual harassment suit against Constance.” Becky confides, “Most men probably wouldn’t do that, but Dr. Post did.”
“Why is Constance still working here if someone won a lawsuit against her? I’d think there would be cause to fire her over that.”
“I don’t think there’s any getting rid of her.” She shares, “Her family founded the hospital over a hundred years ago. Your best bet would be to find someone else to date. That way, Constance would have to accept she doesn’t have a chance.”
An image of Finley pops into my head. Sweet, blonde Finley with big green eyes and the camera hanging around her neck. “There is someone I’m interested in,” I tell her.
Becky’s eyes sparkle with curiosity, but she doesn’t ask who that might be. Instead, she says, “If I were you, I’d ask her out ASAP. Send the message to Constance that you’re not on the market.”
I’ve been telling our boss that very thing, but she won’t listen. “Thanks for the advice, Becky,” I tell her. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”
With those parting words, I head toward the doctors’ lounge to make sure the afternoon doctor is here. I wouldn’t want Elk Lake to have its first real emergency and not have anyone on hand to take care of them.
The quaint bell above the door at Happy Snaps rings, announcing my arrival.
I hear Finley’s disembodied voice call out, “I’m in the back, Thomas.”
Walking through the doorway leading to the studio, I ask, “What if it wasn’t me? What if I were an ax murderer?”
Her eyes peer over the top of her computer, where she’s probably reviewing someone else’s pictures. “If you were an ax murderer, I’d hit you over the head with a baseball bat before calling the cops.”
“Do you even have a baseball bat here?” I challenge her.
She leans down and stealthily picks up something beside her. She raises a baseball bat over her head.
“I’m glad you take your security seriously,” I tell her.
Putting the bat back down, she replies, “Elk Lake is a small town, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t bad people everywhere.”
“Have you ever met any?” I ask her. As far as I’m concerned, Elk Lake is the most mild-mannered town on the planet.
She shakes her head. “I haven’t, but as a female business owner, I like to be prepared.” She adds, “I grew up on Law and Order, you know.” Taking a breath, she asks, “Now, which costume should we start with?”
I inwardly grimace at the thought of playacting. “You pick,” I tell her.
“Why don’t we start with a policeman?” Her eyes sparkle in such a way I can’t help but wonder if that’s her favorite. She points to the clothing rack against the wall. “I have a few different sizes, but I can always pin it if the fit is off.”
I smile in response and walk toward the men’s costumes.
Then I rifle through them and pull out a uniform that looks like it’s about my size.
I take it into the bathroom to change. The pants are a bit snug but not too bad.
The problem is with the shirt. It seems to be a much smaller size than the pants and it doesn’t have any buttons.
I’m in here long enough that Finley knocks on the door. “You okay in there?”
“I’m … um … fine?”
“Your voice raised at the end like a question. What’s wrong?” Apparently, it doesn’t take a psychic to know I’m lying.
I open the door so she can see. “The buttons fell off this shirt. Also, I think I need a bigger size.”
Finley starts laughing. “Thomas, you’re here to have fantasy photos taken.” Her eyes run down the length of my body before she mumbles, “This is how the uniform is supposed to look.”
“It feels unnatural,” I tell her. “I mean, how am I supposed to arrest a perp like this?”
“Arrest a perp, huh?” She giggles again.
“You’re not the only one who watched Law and Order,” I tell her.
“Good,” she says. “Then you know what to do.” I follow her as she turns and walks toward a lighted set. She’s placed a streetlamp in front of a sweep of a city street. The whole scene looks impressively authentic.
I stand there awkwardly and watch as she walks over to the prop table. She picks up a pair of handcuffs and a billy club and brings them over to me. “Which do you want to start with?” I take the handcuffs.
As she walks off set and picks up her camera, I ask, “Aren’t you going to … you know …” I gesture toward my bare chest. “Put baby oil on me?” I finally mutter.
Finley’s gaze drops to my feet and she visibly swallows. “I usually save that for the pirate and fireman. You don’t want all the photos to look the same, do you?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I tell her. Although, for some reason I’m semi-disappointed not to be getting the full treatment. “What about hair and makeup?” I ask.
Both of her hands form into fists before they open and clench again. “I want to take a couple of shots first and see how they look. If needed, we can adjust your character from there.”
An image from our first photo shoot pops into my mind. “In other words, you want to make sure I know what I’m doing.”
Her supple pink lips form into a slow smile. “Something like that,” she says. “Now, channel your inner lawman and show me what you’ve got.”
As uncomfortable as this is for me, I’m determined not to disappoint Finley.
I try to imagine how Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson would handle this assignment.
Standing as tall as my six feet two inches allows, I throw my shoulders back and flex my muscles for effect.
Then I narrow my gaze into what I hope looks like a fierce expression of virility.
I’m convinced I must look like the most impressive cop on the planet but then Finley gasps, “What are you doing?”