Chapter Thirty-Five Margo Angelhart
Chapter Thirty-Five
Margo Angelhart
Jack and I scored with the first name Lu gave me, Tim Miller, and I didn’t even have to bring out the screws.
Tim was thirty-two, had worked in VA Medical Records for the last five years. He was single, owned a one-bedroom condo in
downtown Scottsdale, and drove a new but practical Toyota Tacoma truck.
And he was the nephew of Zachary Ames, the head honcho of the VA medical center itself.
We waited for him to leave work at four that afternoon.
“Hello, Tim,” I said before he could open his door. “My name is Margo Angelhart, this is my partner Jack, and we’re private
investigators with a few questions about a complaint we received that you may have illegally altered the medical records of
James Novak.”
His face went white and he staggered, leaned against his truck. I thought he might faint.
“Wh-what?”
His voice was so quiet I almost missed it.
“On Monday, Novak had an appointment. He was admitted to a rehab center, and they stated that his medical files are now gone. Not misplaced, but disappeared. According to our sources, the only way to get rid of a medical file without a trace is to merge it with another file. A nurse put in a request to your office on Monday to research the file. You were working on Monday, and based on information we have obtained in the course of our investigation, you would have been the most likely to field that request.”
I was bluffing. They had fourteen staffers, of which four to six were in the office at any one time. Lu had given me a list
of two who worked Monday who had also been on staff three and a half years ago. But as I spoke, his expression grew more panicked.
Wow, definitely would want to play poker against this guy. He’d lose every time.
“Did you?” I pushed.
“Yes?” His voice squeaked.
“Margo,” Jack said, “we need to turn everything over to the FBI. This is now a federal investigation.”
Jack was a fantastic foil. The stern, no-nonsense, gruff partner to my more charming, yet blunt, self. I’m glad we had discussed
our approach before Tim arrived.
“No,” I said. “I’m not turning this over to the feds, they’ll screw everything up. They always do.”
“He committed a crime, Margo. The FBI has jurisdiction over the VA. Maybe the military police. I’m not sure. Anyway, we’ll
call Agent Truman, he’s been looking for something like this. He’ll know who will prosecute.”
I was watching Miller out of the corner of my eye. He was moving from scared to full panic at the word prosecute.
“Maybe you’re right,” I conceded to Jack with an exaggerated frown.
“It’s bigger than just one guy in the medical records office getting a bribe.
Could go all the way up to the administration.
” I glanced at Miller. “Did your uncle put you up to it? Don’t look at me like that, I know your mom is the sister to Administrative Director Zachary Ames.
Did he tell you to get rid of Novak’s file? Maybe a few others over the years?”
“Don’t drag my uncle into this!” he said. “Please. What do you want to know?”
“It’s not us,” I said innocently. “But once we turn this over to the FBI, they’ll want to talk to everyone. Your uncle is,
like, the number one guy here, right? Buck stops with him. I get it, your family is close, your uncle asks you to do something
unethical, you might not want to, but he’s family, right?”
“My Uncle Zach would never do anything like that!”
“Then who asked you to make Novak’s medical records disappear?”
He bit his lip.
“Margo,” Jack said, “seriously, this guy is going to jail. They’re not going to let accessory to murder walk.”
“Murder?” Miller looked like he was going to throw up. “Wh-what? I never!”
“My partner’s right. You’re an accessory to the murder of Liz Swanson and her husband. The nurse who put in the medical records
request on Monday when she noticed her patient’s file had vanished. She was killed the next day.”
It took him a few seconds, but then he made the connection.
“Oh. My. God.”
He slumped all the way down to the asphalt and put his head in his hands.
I grinned at Jack. He wasn’t grinning, but he gave me a nod. Job well done.
I squatted in front of Miller. “Tell me the truth. Is your uncle involved with the disappearance of medical records? Was he
involved in covering up the adverse effects in the Neurovantix trial?”
Miller shook his head. “No. Uncle Zach . . . He didn’t ask me to do anything.”
“Who did?”
“I can’t.”
“You’re already in trouble, Tim. But you come clean, you might not go to prison.”
He looked from me to Jack, who gave him the stern cop face that never got old when we interrogated someone. Tim quickly looked
back at me.
“Peter Stockman,” he said, his voice low. “He had a list of flagged files. If anyone asked about them, I needed to make them
disappear, then tell him.”
“You told Peter that Liz Swanson had asked about Novak’s records?” I said, my blood boiling.
He nodded. “I didn’t think—I didn’t know he would kill her! I thought . . . hell, I don’t know. I did one thing—only one thing!—a
few years ago, and I knew it was wrong, but . . . but . . . but he said it was to protect the integrity of the VA.”
“What did he ask you to do?”
“I need a lawyer, I think.”
“We’re not cops,” I snapped. “We’re private investigators. What did he ask you to do?” I wasn’t going to let him clam up out
of fear he was going to get in trouble. He was in trouble, we weren’t going to let this go, but I needed the information now,
not in days or weeks after an investigation I had no part of.
“Dr. Klein had committed medical malpractice. It came out after he was killed, and Peter asked me to delete certain encounters
listed in some patient records. It was to protect the VA. It . . . it made sense the way he explained it, so I did it. I mean,
yes, unethical, but it would have been worse if everyone knew that Dr. Klein had committed malpractice. People could have
sued, and it would have landed on my uncle. Uncle Zach is a great guy—he didn’t deserve to lose his job! Not for something
he had no part of.”
That really sounded like a line that Peter Stockman fed him.
“That’s what Stockman said would happen?”
“Yeah, and he told me about a case out in DC where a totally innocent guy had to resign and he lost his pension because of
what a doctor did on his watch.”
I didn’t know whether to believe him, but it had a ring of truth. Find someone’s weak spot and exploit it.
Like Peter Stockman had exploited the love my dad had for his family by threatening us and thereby forcing him to plead guilty.
“Did he pay you?” I asked.
“Not for that. I don’t think?”
“You don’t know?” Jack snapped.
“After that, he put me on retainer for his, um, he had a private consulting business. And I, um, helped with his IT issues?”
“Is that a question or did you help him?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm and reasonable when what I really wanted to
do was slap this idiot. He couldn’t be this stupid.
“Yes,” he said. “Minor stuff. But yeah, I did some work for him.”
“How much?”
“A couple hours a month.”
“How much did he pay you?”
“Three thousand a month for, um, the last three years.”
“For a couple hours a month work and you didn’t think it was a bribe?” I said in disbelief.
Jack cleared his throat and said, “And then he told you that if anyone asked about those specific records to delete them and
let him know?”
Tim nodded. “Yes, exactly, I swear to God.” He crossed his heart as if he was a child.
Dumb. Ass.
Jack said, “Tim, you are going to voluntarily turn yourself in to the FBI. You will ask to speak to Special Agent Quincy Truman in the Phoenix office and tell him exactly what you told us. If you remember any other details, you will include those details. If you do this, there is a good chance you can negotiate for probation. But you’re going to have to come clean, completely clean. ”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
I didn’t want to tell him yes, but my conscience got the best of me. “You should get one,” I said. “To protect your rights
and negotiate the terms of a deal. A good lawyer will most likely get you probation, if you are completely honest and assist in the investigation. But don’t delay, Tim. Because if you hedge, we’re not going to
bat for you. You now know that Stockman is a murder suspect, and if you cover it up, you are an accessory.”
“I understand. I do. I will. I promise.”
“And don’t tell anyone what you’re doing,” I added. “Liz Swanson was killed because she knew something had happened to Novak’s
file. You know what happened, Peter Stockman and the people he’s working with aren’t going to want you alive to talk about
it.”
Tim nodded, his face white and pasty. Jack held out his hand. Tim hesitated, took it, and Jack helped him up off the ground.
With shaking hands, Tim opened the door to his truck and climbed in. We watched him drive off; he almost hit two cars.
I turned off the tape recorder that was in my pocket. “Well, do you think he’ll turn himself in?” I asked my brother.
“No,” he said.
“Damn.”
“Right now, he thinks he will. He’s terrified. But when he gets home and thinks about it, he won’t. He might run, he might
go to his uncle, or he might call Peter Stockman and tell him what we said.”
“Do you believe that his uncle knows nothing about this?”
“I do,” Jack said. “I could be wrong.”
“No, I think you’re right. Ames is the head of the VA with an exemplary record. Tess said he has a good six-figure salary
and his wife is a surgeon with Honor Health. They’re lifelong Phoenix residents who have kids, family. They donate to charity.
Outstanding reputation.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not guilty.”
“I know, but why? He has nothing to do with the research end of the VA.”
“You want to talk to him?”
I hedged. “Yes, but we could be wrong. Tim might not know who else is involved, other than Stockman. If I was organizing this
kind of huge conspiracy, I would compartmentalize the information as best I could. Even if Zachary Ames knows nothing about
this, he could mention it to someone who does. The assistant director. Another staff member. Stockman could have people all
over the VA who have small pieces of the puzzle. People who might tip him off.”
“The more people who know, the safer we all are,” Jack continued. “We take the tape to Quincy and let him open an investigation.”
“That will take forever,” I groaned. “They’ll have time to destroy evidence, especially if Tim blabs.”
“It might not take forever,” Jack said. “All Quincy needs to do is reach out to the inspector general of the agency and ask
for the records. With this tape and our research, I think they have plenty to open a major investigation right now, not months
from now.”
I hoped Jack was right. Because in my experience, government was as slow as molasses.