That was one less worry, at least for now. When he’d hung up, I started looking for Rodney Treffer. He wasn’t in the morgue, so I called around to the hospitals on the near North Side. I hadn’t heard back from Finchley or Milkova. And I wanted to find out how much time I had before Rodney was fit enough to come after me. I said I was Sunny Treffer, searching for my brother. He was supposed to meet me for breakfast this morning and never showed, and given his history of psychosis, I was worried whether he’d had some breakdown and been brought in.
I was lucky with the third place I called. The ER charge nurse told me Rodney had injured himself in a fall but didn’t seem to be having a psychotic episode when he was with them. They’d kept him overnight for observation and discharged him an hour ago. He’d had a concussion and some brain swelling, but they’d done a second CT scan before they released him; the swelling had gone down.
“You’re his sister? Make sure he rests for the next several days. He shouldn’t be out on this ice where he could slip and fall again.”
“I’ll do my best to keep him off the streets,” I promised. “Did Mr. Kystarnik pay his bill?”
The charge nurse transferred me to the billing department, where a service rep said someone had stopped by with Rodney and paid cash, all 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.