The Three Dollar Phoenix by Walt Sautter (rooftoppers .txt) 📖

the same day she saw Ed. She told them of an interest in post graduate work in psychiatry and her eagerness for experience in the field at a prestigious institution like Caramore. They in turn expressed the desire to interview her for a current opening and arrangements were made. The next day at two o’clock she would meet with the director of personnel. The only thing that stood in her way now was Martin’s reference, and that, she was sure would be no problem. So far, it seemed much easier than she thought it would be.
The next morning she was on the way to Ellensville. She spent the entire three hours and twenty minutes rehearsing the details of her fictitious employment. Len had given her the recommendation she wanted and it portrayed her as an outstanding physician in all respects. As long as she kept her stories straight, the rest of it should be simple she thought.
She arrived in Ellensville at twelve thirty and parked in front of the local paper store on the main street of town. Several doors down the street, she had noticed a sign, “Wedgewood Cafeteria- Good Food” it read. She had at least an hour to spare. Caramore couldn’t be more than ten minutes away. She walked to the cafeteria. It was a small, coffee shop kind of arrangement with several tables covered by neat yellow tablecloths and windows with matching yellow curtains. At the far end of the room was a counter, lined with six stools, behind which stood a man wearing a white shirt and pants. At one end of the counter sat a lone customer, a dark haired man appearing to be in his early thirties. He was dressed in gray slacks and a dark blue sport jacket. He looked up from the paper he was reading as Rita entered.
“Good afternoon” the man behind the counter said cheerfully.
Rita returned his pleasant greeting and sat down.
She ordered a cup of coffee and a tuna sandwich. She looked randomly about the room as she waited for her meal to be prepared. Her careful gaze suddenly caught a glimpse of a familiar insignia on the shirt pocket of the other customer. It was one of those pocket inserts, used to protect shirts from the ravages of uncapped pens and pencils. It bore large red letters spelling out the word Squibb.
“Excuse me” she began, “Do you work at Caramore?”
He looked up, simultaneously, as though he might have been about to speak to her at the very instant she addressed him.
“Yes, I do. How do you know? Do you work there too?” he asked.
“No, I noticed your pocket guard has the word Squibb on it, so I thought since Caramore is the largest hospital around here, you might work there” she explained.
“Excellent logic. Are you a detective?” he replied jokingly.
“No, not really. I’m Margaret Bickford. I’m applying for a physicians position at Caramore this afternoon.”
“Oh, a new doctor, huh. I’m Larry Stein” he said.
“Are you on the medical staff up there?” she asked.
“I’m a pharmacist. I’m in charge at the hospital” he replied.
“How long have you worked here?”
“About two years, now.”
“What’s it like?” she asked.
“This is the second institution I’ve been with. It’s much better than the first one I was at. From what I’m told it’s the best, from a patient and an employee standpoint. The pay is good and the hours are OK. If you really want the job, you shouldn’t have too much trouble. There’s a big turnover of young doctors on the staff. It’s not because of any problems with the job, but a lot of them just want some psychiatric experience and after they get it, they move on to better things like private practice. Here, they get the experience and a decent salary at the same time. The only thing that I find difficult about it is all the hush, hush stuff.”
“What do you mean?” asked Rita.
“Well, there’s a lot of rich and famous people with big problems at Caramore as patients. These people want total anonymity at all cost. Then you have reporters from every sleazy tabloid in the country, constantly trying to find out who is there and why. We’ve had them disguise themselves as everything from doctors to garbage collectors. The result is you spend more time on security precautions and locking things up than doing your work. It tends to grind you down. But then again, I guess that’s part of the job in a place like this”
“Listen, when you go for the interview today, mention my name to Ann. Ann Brost is the lady in personnel that will probably be talking to you. When you get the job, come down to the pharmacy and see me, building A-3, downstairs. Tell the guard to call me on the intercom and I’ll O.K. it so he’ll let you through. Now, don’t forget Margaret” he said as he arose from the stool and folded the paper under his arm.
“I’ve got to go now. I just came down here on my lunch hour for a haircut and it’s about time I get back. It’s after one already” he paused for a moment and then added, “I hope I see you again, soon.”
“I hope so, too. It all depends on how things go this afternoon” she relied as he walked towards the door.
Rita finished her lunch in a leisurely fashion.
She spoke to the counterman as she ate. He didn’t add much to what she already knew about Caramore, but the conversation was pleasant and helped to pass the time.
It was one thirty-five when she left the cafeteria and headed to the hospital. After a brief interrogation at the gatehouse, she was directed towards the administration building. Although the guard questioned her, the encounter seemed significantly less rigorous than that described by Ed.
At the administration building, she was guided to a small waiting room, with an adjoining office, at the rear of the building. After five minutes had past, the office door opened and in the entrance stood a short, blonde woman.
“Doctor Bickford?” the woman addressed her in an inquiring tone.
“Yes” replied Rita.
“Hi, I’m Ann Brost, please come in.”
Rita followed her into a comfortably furnished office and sat down on the sofa across from the desk. She handed the references Len had given her to Brost, who accepted them with a courteous smile. She could feel a pulsing in her throat as she struggled to maintain an air of external composure.
“What if I can’t pull this off?” kept flashing through her mind as she watched Brost look through her credentials in silence.
“God damn it, let’s get this over with” she thought. It was like opening night and the curtain was jammed. Brost reached up and removed her glasses as she placed the papers on her desk. She looked straight at Rita without saying a word as if she was waiting for her to speak.
Rita said nothing. She wasn’t sure she could shout over her pounding heart beat even if she wanted to.
“Everything looks good here. I’ll have to call Doctor Martin to confirm this of course. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, not at all” she forced out in a crackling voice. She immediately cleared her throat attempting to cover up the nervous tone.
From that point on, it got easier. By the time the interview ended, Rita’s heart rate had almost reached normal. After a routine series of questions, mostly medical, Brost stood up behind the desk and extended her hand.
“I think you could begin tomorrow, Doctor Bickford” she said.
Rita arose and they shook hands.
“That would be fine” she replied.
Brost picked up the phone and called for an escort to show her to her apartment.
“After you’re settled, call me, and I’ll have someone show you the facilities. Tomorrow, report to Doctor Kelly in building A-5. He’ll be your supervisor and he’ll outline your duties.”
The apartment was similar to what one might expect in a high quality condominium. It had a single bedroom, a spacious living room, small dining area and an adequate kitchen. It was furnished in decorator fashion, complete with high pile wall to wall and floor to ceiling draperies. A large picture window at one end of the living room offered a bright view of the mountainous landscape. On the cocktail table was a bottle of champagne bearing a note, “Welcome aboard, Doctor Bickford” signed by the Caramore Staff and Management.
On the kitchen table, a gaily decorated flower display, had been placed. The man who had escorted her placed the suitcases in the bedroom and handed her a set of keys. After inquiring about any further needs, he quietly departed. Caramore was luxurious to say the least.
Rita spent the rest of the day being guided through the buildings that comprised Caramore. The tour was thorough. She took special note of building A-3, which was a top security location complete with guards at each corridor entrance. It was obvious that security was of the highest priority everywhere but especially at A-3. The escort continually emphasized the measures taken as being state of the art.
As she walked back to her apartment after the tour, she felt a little discouraged before she had even begun her mission. The methods used at Caramore were designed to thwart a professional, much less an amateur such as she.
Rita kicked off her shoes and laid on the bed.
She’d worry about unpacking the suitcases later. The tension of the day had taken its toll. It was about two hours before dinner. An hour of sleep would freshen her up for the next act. She closed her eyes and drifted into a deep, revitalizing sleep.
Suddenly, a sharp rapping startled her from the unconscious state. She sat up abruptly and looked about the room. The rapping continued.
“Margaret, its Larry Stein. Are you going to dinner?” she heard a muted voice coming from the hall.
She glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand. Six fifteen. She arose from the bed and stumbled into the small hallway to hear Larry’s voice coming from the other side of the door.
“One minute” she shouted at the closed door as she walked to the bathroom and flicked on the light. She hurriedly ran a comb through her hair and looked in the mirror. She went to the door and opened it. There stood Larry.
“Hi, I checked with Ann Brost in personnel. I told you that you would get the job” he said with a touch of boast. “I thought I’d come by and see if you wanted some company for dinner tonight. It’s kind of a drag to eat alone in a new place” he said with a pleasant smile.
“Come in Larry” she responded. “Give me a minute to put myself together and I’d be happy to eat with you. Thank you for being so considerate.”
Larry sat in one of the easy chairs near the window.
“I really appreciate your coming by like this” said Rita as she looked through one of the suitcases for her make up kit.
Ten minutes later, they entered the professional staff dining hall together. The maitre’ de met them at the entrance.
“Mr. Stein and” he said quizzically.
”Doctor Bickford” replied Larry.
“My name is Ralph” said the maitre’ de as he extended his hand to her.
“Doctor Kelly has requested that Doctor Bickford be seated with him tonight. Now