Chapter 3 - THE INVOICE THAT DIDN'T BELONG
The first suspicious bill was dated March 14.
I remembered that day because Lily had spent the entire afternoon making fun of my haircut.
According to Calder Medical Services, she had received specialized equipment coordination that afternoon.
The charge was $8,900.
According to Lily's hospital records, the equipment listed on the invoice had never been delivered to her room.
That discrepancy was only the beginning.
Mateo's attorney, a woman named Evelyn Mercer, met me in a hospital conference room two days after the explosion.
She wore a gray suit and carried a tablet full of documents.
“I want to be clear,” she said. “A questionable charge doesn't automatically prove fraud. We need to verify the contracts, records, and who actually received payment.”
I nodded.
“Fine. Verify everything.”
She almost smiled.
Mateo sat beside me, his injured hand resting on the table.
Evelyn continued.
“Calder appears to provide administrative and equipment-related services to several healthcare organizations. We're examining whether certain claims were duplicated, misclassified, or improperly billed.”
“Why is Rossi Logistics involved?”
Mateo answered.
“Calder has a freight subsidiary. It handles transportation for medical equipment.”
I stared.
“And you were buying it?”
“Considering buying it.”
“Why?”
“Because legitimate medical transportation is a growing business.”
I looked at him.
“And now?”
“Now I'm wondering why a transportation company has access to so many patient billing records.”
Evelyn nodded.
“That's one of the questions.”
The detective investigating the explosion contacted us that afternoon.
Security footage showed the suspect arriving in a delivery van registered to a contractor associated with Calder.
The van had been reported stolen.
The suspect's face remained obscured.
But the evidence was enough to justify further investigation.
Mateo was furious.
He didn't raise his voice.
That was worse.
He stood by the hospital window, staring toward the street.
“Someone tried to kill me because I was looking at a company,” he said.
Evelyn folded her arms.
“Possibly. Don't decide motive before the evidence does.”
Mateo nodded reluctantly.
I watched him.
For a man with his reputation, he was surprisingly willing to listen when somebody told him he was wrong.
That evening, I returned to Diner 82.
The front windows had been boarded up.
Gary stood outside smoking.
He looked ten years older.
“Harley.”
“Hey.”
He stared at my bandaged arm.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I need my paycheck.”
He sighed.
“Of course you do.”
Inside, the diner smelled of cleaning chemicals and burnt coffee.
Booth Four was untouched.
Mateo's coffee cup still sat behind the counter, placed there by someone who apparently didn't know whether to throw it away.
I picked it up.
Gary watched me.
“He's not coming back, is he?”
I looked at the cup.
“I don't know.”
Gary shook his head.
“People like that bring trouble.”
I turned.
“People like that?”
“Rossi.”
I thought of Mateo sitting beside Lily's hospital bed while she made jokes about his eyes.
“He didn't plant the bomb.”
Gary looked away.
“No,” he admitted. “I guess he didn't.”
Before I left, Denise pulled me aside.
She had returned from being sick and was helping clean the dining room.
“Harley, there's something weird.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“The night of the explosion, somebody called asking whether Rossi was still here.”
My pulse quickened.
“Who?”
“Didn't give a name.”
“When?”
“About fifteen minutes before it happened.”
I stared.
“Who answered?”
Denise looked uncomfortable.
“Gary.”
I turned toward the manager's office.
May you like
Gary was standing in the doorway.
Watching us.
