Henry continued working on his diagram. “You can slip past the security gate, but you’ll have to wrestle with a few cypress trees.”
“I think I’m an expert at that now.” Theresa picked the few remaining needles from her blouse.
“We’ll meet you there.”
“Perfect.”
Theresa pulled up the app for a car service to bring her to the rental agency. “Thanks for being such good pals. I really needed some stability after the past twenty-four hours.”
Frida returned words of gratitude. “And thank you for assisting Mr. Spielberg over here,” she said, looking towards Henry.
Theresa was puzzled for a moment and then laughed. “Got it! We’ll investigate those UPAs!”
Chapter Six
Sunnydale, Florida
Pensacola, Florida
Three hundred miles from Tempe, Arizona, the Sunnydale Care Center in Silver City, New Mexico was admitting a new resident: Michael Lowery, age eighty-eight. Lowery was recovering from a stroke. His eyesight was poor, matched by equally failing hearing. With no family to oversee his admission, he relied on the intake associate to walk him through the paperwork. He guided Lowery’s hand as he signed where the yellow tabs were placed on the pages.
“I suppose I should have asked you this sooner, but could you read that fine print to me?” Lowery asked with watery eyes.
“Of course, Mr. Lowery. It says that you are putting your estate in our custody so that we can manage your bills and investments.”
Lowery pursed his lips. “For as long as I’m here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The doctors told me it could be several months before I regain more mobility.”
“If you behave and do the physical therapy.” The associate nodded and gave him a reassuring smile.
“Oh, yes. They said I have come a long way since the stroke, but still got a ways to go.”
“Have you considered our assisted living accommodations?”
“I was living at Coventry, but after the stroke, they said I had to come here for some kind of long-term rehabilitation.”
“Correct. I can arrange for a tour if you’d like. You’ll need a place to live once you are completely back on your feet.”
“Good point. Not sure how much walking I can do, though.”
“Not to worry. We have ramps and can take you around in a wheelchair. Just to be safe.”
“I think that sounds like a good plan. Sign me up.”
Little did he know he signed away his entire fortune, something this facility had mastered.
Regina was busy checking the list of social security deposits. There were thirty-seven accounts she had to keep track of: each in a different person’s name, each with a power of attorney, but all under the umbrella of Sunnydale. She didn’t ask any questions, for which she was rewarded with an outstanding bonus three times a year. All she knew was that the main part of the residential community was funded by a philanthropic organization and supplemented by personal income from the senior living residents. The medical center and longterm care were funded by grants from the government.
It was a nice place to work. Almost like a country club. One of the big perks was the meals. She got to eat at the fine-dining restaurant, or the café, depending on her shift.
At twenty-three, Regina was living the life. She was making almost three times as much as her friends, if you included her bonuses. Occasionally she would notify the pension plan or the social security system if somebody passed away, but at Sunnydale, people lived longer than the usual life expectancy. Regina was convinced it was the great care, service, and atmosphere that contributed to their longevity.
Regina had no idea that over twenty percent of the checks that were being deposited were for people who were dead. Unless she was instructed to inform the payees of the client’s passing, the checks kept coming until someone in “upper management” decided it was time to cut off the money train. Collecting social security for people who were over ninety-five could send up a red flag, especially when the checks were being deposited into the same bank account. Not that anyone would notice, but the powers that be did not want to take a chance. Besides, when one person died, another one would be signed up until their last breath. Even then, the care center continued to collect pensions, insurance, whatever, until they decided to pull the plug, no pun intended. The only issue was the timing. They could only siphon social security for one month after the person actually died. It was tough keeping a dead body intact. Three weeks, tops.
Meanwhile, Regina processed invoices and logged payments that she assumed were legitimate. There was no reason for her to question anything.
