Do Not Go Gentle (30 page)

“What?” Jamie asked. “What aren't you telling me, woman?”

“I don't know how to tell you this, love, other than to come right out with it—we're almost out of money.”

Jamie was shocked. “How? I mean, I know we haven't had my income, but we've got yours and we've got our savings. I know you had money squirreled away for something like this.”

“Aye, but it's not going to last forever, dear.” While Jamie had many talents, managing money was not among them. Eileen balanced their bank accounts, paid the bills, and did their taxes. Jamie brought home a paycheck, gave it Eileen, and let her handle the rest. He also had a habit of tucking some money away in his wallet for his own private use. Eileen let him think she did not know about this. It was easier that way. “We not only don't have your income, but we've now got extra expenses.”

“Like what?”

“Like enormous insurance premiums. We had to take COBRA in order to keep your benefits going, and the monthly payments are nearly a thousand dollars per month.”

“What? That's outrageous.”

“I agree, but we have no choice. What would happen if one of us got sick or in an accident? What about our prescriptions and your new prescriptions? We can't
not
have insurance.”

Jamie sighed heavily. “I know, but couldn't we get something cheaper by adding insurance to your business?”

“Maybe,” Eileen admitted, “but that's also expensive and there are issues that I have to look at carefully, like pre-existing conditions, deductibles, co-pays, all sorts of mumbo-jumbo. So for now, I elected to continue with COBRA. Pretty soon, though, we'll have to make some tough choices.”

“Your business is doing really well, isn't it? Doesn't that help?”

“Of course it does,” Eileen replied with exasperation, “but Jamie, you don't appreciate how much we have in bills each month.”

“I have an idea,” Jamie replied indignantly. “We have utility bills, school costs, food, clothing, etc., but we owe almost nothing on the house or the car.”

“Aye, but that's just a laundry list of what we pay, not how much we pay.” Eileen grabbed the laptop computer and pulled up two programs—Quicken and Excel. Over the next fifteen minutes, she gave her husband a crash course on their finances, showing him exactly how much everything cost, how much money they had, and a very dismal projection of how long they could survive on just Eileen's income based on their current expenses.

When they had finished, Jamie shook his head. “Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. Everything's so damned expensive.”

Eileen laughed. “Now you're getting the picture, husband of mine.”

Jamie collapsed like a balloon losing air. “So everything we've worked so hard for all these years is in danger?”

Eileen shrugged. “To a certain extent. We'll have to see what the disability attorney tells us next month. If she has good news for us, we'll be okay. If not, we'll have to dip into our retirement fund. After that, we're in serious financial trouble, but what we
can
do right away is start tightening our belts.”

Jamie chuckled. “Ah. So no more Guinness and cigars, hunh?”

“Well, maybe we'll just get them on special occasions.”

Jamie nodded. “I understand. We'll make what we have last longer.”

“Exactly.”

The telephone interrupted them. Eileen got up and answered it. Then she handed the phone to Jamie, whispering, “Sully.”

“Hey, Sully,” Jamie said. “How's it going?”

“It would be going a helluva lot better if you'd just do as you've been told, Griffin.” Sully's voice was rough with anger.

“Why? How am I not doing what I've been told?” Jamie felt his own temper starting to rise in reaction to Sully's tone of voice.

“You know damned good and well how. Len's told me that you're still getting in his way in the Raisin Killer case.”

“How exactly am I getting in his way?”

“He's been told that you're talking to former members of the Disciples, asking questions about Cal's murder, about the other murders, and talking to some of the other groups that you and Cal connected to the cult.”

“So? It's a free country, Sully. I'm not interfering with Len's investigation. I'm looking into it as a private citizen, no different than a private investigator. The only beef Len's got is that I'm making progress while he's still spinning his wheels.”

“Jamie, all I know is what Hamilton's been telling me, and if there's a conflict, it doesn't matter to me any longer whether or not Len's being an asshole about this—he's a police detective and you're not. The last thing I need is for Hamilton to start shooting his mouth off about you to the wrong people. So I've got to back Len up, just like I would have backed you up in a similar situation.”

“That's bullshit. This is just becoming a pissing match between Lenny and me, and you know it. I haven't crossed any lines. ”

The line went silent for several seconds as Jamie waited for Sully to respond. Finally, he said, “Just back off, okay? You've got enough issues you need to deal with. Why are you still putting energy into something that we can handle better?

“Because Cal was my partner, Sully. “If I hadn't been sick, I would have been with him and maybe he'd still be alive.”

“Jamie,” Sully started to shout. Then he stopped himself and lowered his voice. “You don't know that. For all you know, you'd be dead now too.”

Jamie broke an extended silence. “Sully, I have a world of respect for you, but I think we're going to have to agree to disagree about this.”

“That's not good enough,” Sully replied calmly. “If Len comes to me again with a complaint, I'm going to slap you with charges.”

Jamie sighed heavily. “We both know you're not going to be able to charge me with anything that will stick.”

“Maybe, but I can find enough to make your life worse than it already is. Don't make me do that. I have no discretion in this matter—I'm under orders from higher-up.”

“Yeah, yeah, and I know what my Da can be like when he gets his ‘Irish' up.”

“It's more than just your father, Jamie. I think he's getting pressure too.”

“It doesn't matter. As long as I'm able, I'm going to keep looking into this until we get some justice for Cal and all the other victims. If Len manages to do that before I can, I'll be the first in line to congratulate him.”

After one last pause, Sully said, “All right. Well, I've done my part. I've warned you. Take care, Jamie.”

“You too, Sully.” Jamie hung up the phone and hung his head. Eileen rubbed his neck lightly. Finally, he looked up at her and squeezed her hand.

“Man, this just keeps getting better and better.”

It was the first Friday in December, just over a week after a Thanksgiving. Normally, by this time of year Jamie and Eileen would have been well underway in their preparations for Christmas. While Jamie enjoyed Christmas, especially seeing the girls with their presents, for Eileen the holiday was more like what Jamie often referred to as, “high holy days.” It began with her insistence upon receiving detailed Christmas lists from everyone for whom she bought gifts. The girls had learned at an early age to give detailed, but realistic, lists to their mother as soon as possible in order to get the gifts they wanted.

For his part, Jamie's role in these rituals was consistent—he was charged with sending the Christmas cards and decorating the house for the holidays. Although the latter duty did not extend to decoration of the tree, Jamie was required to obtain a fresh tree every year until they switched to an artificial tree. From that point on, his duty had been assembly. Eileen and the girls always handled decorating duty.

After the first couple of years, Jamie started making a Christmas “newsletter.” Jamie had fun creating his Christmas newsletters. He included an update of the family's activities during the previous year, but he did so in a humorous and/or inventive fashion. Many years, Jamie satisfied himself with including a variety of bad puns, jokes, and humorous asides. Other years saw the newsletter presented as a newspaper, games, and even one “written” by Finn MacCool.

This year, however, Jamie and Eileen both felt out-of-sorts. By mutual assent, they had decided to cut back on the gifts. Aware of the financial crunch, each of the girls had submitted a very slim list to their mother. Eileen had laid out a budget, which applied mostly to her since she did the bulk of the shopping. However, she told Jamie how much he could spend on her. It was going to be a lean Christmas.

It was lunchtime. Eileen was in the kitchen, humming and singing snatches of Christmas songs as she immersed herself in holiday baking. They had talked about skipping the baking tradition this year due to their circumstances, but Jamie had told Eileen just to do it—they had to have some enjoyment at Christmas. Jamie was printing the newsletter and getting it ready mail when the telephone rang. “I've got it,” he called to Eileen. “Hello?”

“Jamie?”

“Hi, Maggie. Is this the obligatory client Christmas call?”

Maggie Walsh laughed. “No, I'm afraid not, Jamie.” Her voice turned serious. “Jamie, I know this is a bad time of year to be telling you this, but I prefer to be open and upfront with my clients.”

“Uh-oh. I don't like the sound of that.”

“Well, it's a ‘good news-bad news' situation, and about what I expected, as I told you at the end of our lengthy conversation back in October.”

Jamie groaned. “The insurance company denied the claim.”

“Yes. Like I said, they reject clients' initial claims in about 95% of the cases I've seen.”

“Wow. Even those with obvious disabilities?”

Maggie grumbled. “Absolutely. I had one poor man who was stricken with MS—and it hit him hard and fast. He was in a wheelchair by the time we filed the initial claim. The insurance company still rejected his claim on the first review. We won easily on appeal, however.”

“Geez. Why do they do that?”

“The money, Jamie. It's always about the money. By rejecting virtually every claim when it is initially submitted, the insurance companies know that a certain percentage of clients will simply give up at that point. The clients don't know about attorneys like us, or they just don't have the resources to continue fighting.”

“If you win on appeal so often, don't they have to pay back benefits?” Jamie asked. “I thought you told me that last time.”

“I did and they do,” Maggie affirmed. “Think about it—the appeal process usually takes about six months, but it can be extended to almost a year. So by delaying as many claims as possible, the insurance companies keep the money they would otherwise be paying to the claimants. They have the use of that money during the entire appeal process, so they come out way ahead even when they do wind up paying back benefits.”

“Wow. Unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” Maggie said heavily. “Unfortunately, that's where we are right now.”

“So now we appeal,” Jamie said glumly. “You told me that was likely before. We may have to wait up to a year before we get a favorable decision?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” replied Maggie, “but I'm very confident about your case. This is where I earn all that money you agreed to pay me. When you see the scope, depth, and length of our appeal, you'll start to understand why.”

“I know,” Jamie conceded. “I accept the fact that I could not begin to do this on my own. So if we win, you'll be worth every penny. What do you need from me?”

“Nothing. This phase falls onto me. I've already drafted our appeal, which attacks the grounds for their denial based not only on the medical and anecdotal evidence we previously supplied, but by citing as many legal cases and opinions as I can find that support our claim.”

“Okay. So how soon before you will be ready to file the appeal?” Jamie asked.

“I plan to work over the weekend and get this submitted by Monday.”

“Then how long does the insurance company have to decide on the appeal?”

Maggie paused a moment before answering. “They can take up to a hundred and eighty days. I know that's depressing, but in most cases, they take every single day they are allowed to take due to the money reasons we just discussed.”

“Holy crap,” Jamie said in disgust. “So we're looking at May before we're likely to see any money, if we see any money.”

“I'm sorry, but that's my best guess. I've seen them turn these around quickly, but—” When Jamie did not reply, Maggie continued. “I know this probably puts your family in a bad place financially, Jamie.”

“Boy, you can say that again.” Jamie looked at Eileen, who had come out of the kitchen, wearing an apron and the detritus of her baking dotting her clothes like modern abstract painting. He could see tell from the worried expression on her face that Eileen had overheard most of his side of the conversation.

“Well, you're not alone,” Maggie replied. “When people are hit suddenly with a debilitating illness like this, there's only so long you can go before you run into financial trouble.”

“I know. My ‘financial advisor' is taking a break from baking Christmas goodies, and she's definitely concerned about the amount of time we just discussed.”

Maggie exhaled heavily. “Jamie, you and Eileen may need to consider declaring a medical bankruptcy.”

“
Bankruptcy
?” Jamie replied indignantly. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, I can't tell you how to manage your finances, Jamie, but I've run into stiff-necked people like you before, and I'm here to tell you that it's something you need to seriously consider.”

“No, no way,” Jamie said. “We've worked too hard to make a good life for ourselves. I'm not going to throw that all away by declaring bankruptcy.”

“Jamie, bankruptcy may be the only way you can
keep
most of what you've worked so hard for all these years.”

Jamie did not reply for several seconds, and then sighed. “Okay. Well, thanks for the advice, Maggie. Is there anything else you need right now?”

“No,” Maggie said. “I'm sorry I've upset you. I just want you to know what you're in for with this.”

“Alright then. Thank you for calling and for being so honest, Maggie. I'd rather hear the truth.”

“I knew you would. You try to have a happy Holiday season with your family. They're what's really important right now.”

“Agreed. Talk to you later.” Jamie hung up the phone slowly and carefully. Then he looked at Eileen, who had starting rubbing his shoulders. “You're getting flour on my shirt,” he remarked in mock indignation.

Eileen chuckled. “Well, I shouldn't be the only one walking around looking like this.” She hugged Jamie, long and hard, then took him by both shoulders as she drew back and held his gaze. “Maggie was giving us good advice, Jamie. If this appeal process takes six months, we'll have no choice but to declare bankruptcy.”

“Eileen,” Jamie said, a tone of hurt exasperation permeating his voice. “How can you say that? We're good people. We can't declare bankruptcy.”

Eileen shook her head and raised her hands in frustration. “So you think only bad people declare bankruptcy? Only layabouts and slackers? People who aren't good with their money? You don't think good people like us ever run into problems like this?” Eileen let all of her frustration come through in her voice. “Jamie, you've seen the numbers. We're almost out of money right now. If we'd won our initial claim, we could probably have avoided bankruptcy, but we'll be lucky to make it to February without running out of money, especially since the girls' tuition payments are all due in January.”

Jamie turned and walked back to the sectional and sat heavily. Eileen could see that he was fighting back tears. She came to sit beside him. “It doesn't mean you're to blame for this, love.”

“Really? I'm supposed to
provide
for my family, Eileen. Instead, I'm
ruining
us.”

“It will be okay, my love. It really will. As long as we have each other, and our lovely children, we'll find a way to get through this.” Jamie did not reply. He sobbed silently and held on to Eileen.

* * * *

The following Thursday, only two weeks before Christmas, Jamie struggled to get out of bed. He had finished his “Christmas duties.” Earlier in the week, Jamie had been exhausted, as usual, but he forced himself to go out and continue his investigation into Sedecla and her connection to Cal's murder and the Raisin Killer case. Unfortunately, all he had to show for three days of investigation was bone-numbing fatigue, headaches that lanced through his head like ragged bolts of lightning, and several run-ins with his father, his brother, his former captain, and three former co-workers. His father and Sully had been most vocal in their threats. While Len Hamilton had also threatened him, Jamie considered Hamilton an idiot and a fool, but the confrontations with the others had sapped Jamie‘s miniscule energy supply and left him in much worse shape. He even fell, twice, when doing nothing more than walking down the street. Like his headaches and fatigue, Jamie's dizziness and lack of balance became markedly worse whenever he pushed himself. By the end of each day, Jamie had been so besieged by pain and drained of energy that he could barely focus. He drove the first day, but took the T after that—when he turned the wrong way down a one-way street on his way home. Fortunately, there had been no other cars coming and he'd been able to slip down an alley, where he had stopped for a moment.

Now, Jamie lay in bed, even though the mid-morning sun was shining brightly into the bedroom. Eileen had kept her scolding to the minimum daily requirement until last night, when Jamie had stumbled into the house and fallen to his knees in the kitchen, clutching at a chair to keep from falling completely. Eileen had lectured him until he went to bed early, but she came to bed not long after and tenderly checked on him, rubbing his back as she read her book. Obviously, she also let him sleep while she and the girls got ready for the day.
Bad thing is, I didn't even hear them. Time was, I would wake at the smallest sounds-now I sleep like a dead man and
still
feel like crap when I wake up.

Jamie managed to shower and get dressed and walk slowly downstairs to the living room, where Eileen sat drinking a cup of coffee. “How are you feeling this morning, love?” she asked.

“Like something that Finn went out, killed, dragged through the mud, then brought into the house.” The dog's ears perked up at the mention of his name—he was curled up on the couch beside Eileen—but when Jamie did not appear likely to produce any food, he thumped his tail for a while, then closed his eyes again.

Eileen gave Jamie a cup of coffee and sat beside him. “Anything new on the case?”

Jamie shook his head, took a long sip of coffee, which he then put on the end table beside him. Then he took both of Eileen's hands in his. “I'm not sure how much longer I can keep doing this.”

“So stop,” Eileen replied evenly, already knowing the response she'd get.

“I
can't
.” Jamie rubbed his forehead, an unconscious gesture he'd developed over the past weeks, as if trying to wipe the pain out of his head.

“Why? No one would blame you. You'd just be doing what your Da and the rest want. Maybe you'd be able to patch things up if you stayed out of their way.”

The grimace on Jamie's face told Eileen that she missed the mark in her argument. “How can you say that, Eileen? First of all, it's
Cal
we're talking about. Someone murdered my partner, who was also a good friend to this family. Secondly, I'm
not
getting in their way. I'm following my own leads and keeping Sully and Hamilton informed about anything that pans out.”