you couldn’t have,” Victoria said. “And don’t be mad at Fig. He only did what I asked him to do.”
“A rare thing, a man who does what you ask him to,” Roxie said to Victoria. “Lucky me you found one.”
Fig felt like the low-life informant who’d deceived a friend. Because, in essence, he had.
“Tell me what happened,” Victoria said.
“Does he need to be here?” Roxie asked.
No he didn’t. Fig stepped toward the door, welcoming the chance to escape.
“Yes,” Victoria said. He stopped. “As an impartial witness to our conversation.”
Great. There was that word impartial again. The more he heard it, the more he realized he wasn’t impartial at all. He wanted to help Roxie, wanted to erase the anger, frustration and sadness he’d noticed in her expression since early that morning, and bring back the fun-loving woman with the beautiful smile and infectious laugh from the night they’d first met.
“Fine,” Roxie said, not looking at him. “The attending suspects my patient in 508B is a malingerer probably addicted to his pain meds. He reports intractable back pain yet all his diagnostic testing since admission has been negative or within normal limits. Every time the doctor tries to change over from IM Demerol to oral pain meds, the patient balks and is on the call bell every five minutes. Mention detox and he turns irate and verbally abusive.”
“I’m aware of the situation,” Victoria said.
“Late Friday night the doctor ordered the patient’s doses of IM Demerol to be alternated with a placebo of IM sterile normal saline. The next morning—when I came on duty—it didn’t take the patient long to figure it out and demand to see the syringe before I injected him. So I kept a Demerol cartridge in my pocket to show him. Then, each time he was scheduled to receive the placebo, I switched it out at the last second. It was not easy to do, I tell you.”
“And you forgot to put the Demerol back,” Victoria said.
Roxie nodded. “Luckily—” she looked between him and Victoria with sad eyes “—or unluckily, as it turns out, I was assigned to narcotic count Saturday night.”
“But incoming shift is supposed to count and outgoing shift records.”
“I can be very persuasive when I want to be.” Her lips twitched into a tiny hint of a smile. “Anyway, I knew the Demerol was in my scrub jacket, which was out at the desk at the time. I increased the number in the box of Demerol by one, planning to return it before I left. Then my mother called.” Roxie let out a breath. “And I had to rush home. Sunday morning I was running late, and I bolted out of the house, leaving it safely tucked away in my dresser.”
“So you altered the count again.”
“What else could I do?”
“How about talk to me?” Victoria asked, her anger evident. “Warn me the count was off so I wasn’t completely blindsided.”
“I’m sorry. I screwed up.”
“How did you wind up with the other two?” Victoria asked without acknowledging Roxie’s apology.
“More of the same. I was rushing. Then they got misplaced.”
“You misplaced three doses of Demerol?”
“No.” Roxie shook her head. “Only two.” Like that made it okay. “The third,” she went on, “was my mistake. I’d thought it was a normal saline in my pocket, but it turned out to be a Demerol.”
“What is going on with you?” Victoria yelled.
Roxie shrugged and looked down at her lap.
Both women sat in silence until Roxie asked, “What happens now? Should I finish my shift or clean out my locker and head home?”
“Let me talk to the director and explain what happened. You returned the missing meds. Maybe …”
Fig interrupted. “Just to play devil’s advocate for a second.” He moved out of Roxie’s reach, which was no small feat in the tiny office. “How do we know there’s actual Demerol in those things and she didn’t refill them with water?”
Rage flared in Roxie’s eyes. She jumped up from her chair, whipped a plastic contraption from her pocket and grabbed the fluid-filled cartridges from Victoria’s desk. “How about I inject all three of them into your lily-white gluteus maximus and you can vouch for their potency right before you lapse into a coma?” She inserted one of the cylinders into the injection device and took a step toward him.
“Stop it, Roxie.” Tiny Victoria launched herself between them. “This isn’t helping.”
“But maybe it will make me feel better,” she said. Then she looked at Fig. Challenging him. “You want to know for sure what’s in this syringe?” She held it up, speaking slow and calm. “Drop your pants.”
“The hospital is investigating medication tampering.” Fig held Roxie’s arms to keep her away from him. “Those cartridges left the hospital. I’m just posing the potential for substitution that any good investigator would acknowledge,” he defended his question.
“He’s right,” Victoria agreed.
Roxie backed down and surprised him by starting to laugh. Not a happy laugh. Rather the kind of laugh that happens when things are so bad if you don’t laugh you’ll cry. He knew it well.
Roxie collapsed into the chair, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The irony is too much.” She could barely get the words out. “I tell that idiot no.” She took a deep breath, blotted her eyes with a tissue Victoria handed her and started to laugh some more. “I get blackmailed. I still say no, so he posts the video on some porn site.” She laughed even harder. “And I’m accused of tampering with narcotics, and I’m getting fired, anyway.” The laughing was so loud people up and down the hallway outside had to be wondering what was going on.
“Wait a minute,” Fig said, remembering Roxie’s phone conversation from earlier that morning. I told you no. My answer won’t change. Fine. Do what you have to do. “Someone’s blackmailing you?”
“Not anymore.” The thought seemed to sober her. She inhaled deeply then exhaled as if trying to blow out any lingering giggles. “And it’s all your fault.” She gave him the stink eye.
What? “My fault?”
“If you’d have taken me out on Friday night like you were supposed to, I wouldn’t have gone home with Johnny-the-jerk, who, come to find out, had his bedroom outfitted with cameras so he could videotape our little interlude.”
“Who is Johnny-the-jerk?” Victoria asked.
“I’m guessing he’s somehow involved with the hospital’s drug tampering problem because after the deed was done—” she looked at Fig and emphasized “—twice, he used his tape to try to coerce me into substituting his bootlegged pills for real narcotics. He said the packaging was almost identical and no one would know. I told
