“My God!” Brian murmured. “Who would have guessed? And these are only cases involving more than twenty-five thousand dollars. If we look at the Civil Court for under twenty-five thousand there will probably be a lot more. It seems as if MMH and Premier Collections have sued a sizable portion of the entire metropolitan New York population.”
“Let’s look at the Civil Court website,” Jeanne said.
A number of clicks later, they were again shocked by the numbers. “This is certainly eye-opening,” Brian said. “The trouble is we can’t use this resource to tease out the cases here in Inwood like you wanted. At least I can’t do it. Maybe Patrick McCarthy might be able to. As a litigator, he has more options available to him for online data on these websites. What would also be interesting to know is how many of the cases are pending like mine and how many are closed.”
“This is a bigger problem than I could have imagined.” As if weighed down by this new information, Jeanne collapsed into one of the side chairs with her legs splayed out in front of her, her arms limp at her sides. “And to think the hospital prevails in most all the cases because the ‘services have been rendered.’ Those are the words Patrick McCarthy used to explain to me why I lost my case. People don’t realize what they are signing when they go into the hospital.”
“You’ve got that right,” he said. “Especially when it involves an emergency situation. They’re told ‘sign here’ to get their loved one treated, and they sign without reading anything. I did, too.”
“People also count on their health insurance to take care of things and not only think about their profits.”
“The whole situation is outrageous. It’s also frustrating during these lawsuits that the court can’t rule on the prices the hospital charge, no matter how ridiculous they are. It’s got to be discouraging to be a judge.”
“Plus, most hospitals won’t tell you their charge master prices, which they’ve spent the last fifty years raising beyond any reason.”
“Oh, yeah,” Brian said with renewed disgust. “I forgot about the infamous charge master prices. How do you know about that?”
“I told you that when I got sued, I spent quite a lot of effort researching USA hospital business practices. What do you know about it?”
“Only what Megan Doyle happened to tell me during our brief meeting.”
“It’s a major part of the hospital scam,” Jeanne said. “The only time patients can find out what things cost is after the services have been rendered, and they get the bill, and even then, they have to hire someone like Megan Doyle to figure it all out. It’s absurd.”
“I know how we could get at least a partial list of Inwood residents that MMH Inwood has sued or is in the process of suing,” he said. “We could ask Grady Quillen, who served me. He wouldn’t be restricted by any patient — client confidentiality issues as far as I know.”
“Do you think he would give you that information?”
Brian shrugged. “I don’t see why not. We’ve been acquaintances for years, and my father was his commanding officer. We could assure him we wouldn’t give out our source, so his employer wouldn’t find out. He already gave me one name: Nolan O’Reilly, whose story rivals ours, as he lost his son and his house in the process.”
“If we could put together even a couple of dozen or so stories combined with the sheer number of court cases, we might be able to get either the Post or the Daily News interested enough to run an exposé.” Abruptly she sat up straighter in her chair, her amber eyes sparkling. “And do you know what else we could do?”
“No, not really,” he said, raising his eyebrows in curiosity.
“We could go to our city council member for the 10th District,” Jeanne said excitedly. “I’m sure we could get him interested and involved. The more I think about all of this, the stranger it seems that it has been allowed to go on for so long.”
“It’s definitely an unconscionable problem,” Brian agreed, but without the enthusiasm she was exhibiting. He was much too emotionally caught up in his own precarious situation, with his wife’s funeral scheduled for the following day and Juliette’s problematic behavior, to think about some kind of social movement, no matter how appropriate.
“Suddenly I feel a little like an Erin Brockovich,” Jeanne said zealously. “Did you see that film with Julia Roberts?”
“I think so,” he said, struggling to reboot his brain. “Yes, I saw it.”
Suddenly Camila appeared in the archway leading out into the front hall. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Juliette just threw up and now says she’s feeling sick again.”
“Oh, God! Where is she?” Brian asked nervously, getting to his feet.
“She’s upstairs in her room,” Camila said. “I think you’d better go and check on her.”
Chapter 28
September 1
Disturbingly similar to a few hours earlier, Juliette was lying on her side, immobile, facing the wall with her legs drawn up. The only difference was now she was clutching Jeannot Lapin against her chest in a firm embrace.
“Camila says you’re feeling bad again, Sweet Pea,” Brian said as he sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her back as he’d done earlier. Jeanne moved to stand at the foot of the bed. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Juliette didn’t respond or move and Brian could see she had her eyes closed. He also noticed she wasn’t sucking her thumb, which he thought was mildly encouraging.
“What about Jeannot Lapin?” he asked, imitating Jeanne’s earlier way of getting Juliette to talk by addressing the rabbit. “She looks like she’s not feeling so good, either.”
“She is hot,” Juliette said, turning her head and looking up at her father. “She’s cold and then she’s hot.”
Brian reached out and pretended to feel the rabbit’s forehead and then did the same with Juliette’s. “You are right,” he agreed. “Jeannot feels a little warm to me. Maybe we should take her temperature.”
“Her name is Jeannot Lapin,” Juliette corrected before rolling over onto her back.
“You’re right,” Brian said. “I stand corrected.” He turned, looked up at Camila, and asked her if she’d bring the thermometer.
“Of course,” Camila said and disappeared.
“Does Jeannot Lapin have a sore throat?” he asked, redirecting his attention to his daughter and continuing with the indirect questioning.
Juliette shook her head.
“How about a cough, or does she just feel sick? Does she think she might throw up again?”
Juliette shook her head for the second time.
“How about a headache?” Jeanne asked.
“Yes, she has a headache,” Juliette said.
Brian and Jeanne exchanged a glance. Each shrugged their shoulders, not knowing what else to ask. Camila returned with the thermometer. Juliette allowed her to put it under her tongue before Camila stepped back out of Brian and Jeanne’s way.
“How long after eating did Juliette throw up?” Brian asked Camila.
“It was while she was eating. By the time I had made the bacon and eggs, she didn’t seem very hungry and ate very slowly. Then she threw up sitting at the table. It was all very sudden.”
He nodded. “Maybe there was something wrong with the eggs.”
“I don’t think so,” Camila said. “I had some myself and had no problem.”
After waiting for the usual three minutes, Brian took the thermometer out of Juliette’s mouth and then twirled it in his fingers, looking for the column of mercury. “100.8 again,” he said when it flashed into view. “No wonder Jeannot Lapin feels hot.”