Doctors Simon And Simon

 

By: Kenda

 

Doctors Simon and Simon is dedicated to my friend, and former S&S publishing partner, Anne.  Doctors Simon and Simon is Anne’s favorite story amongst all that I wrote. In part, because she was an obstetrical nurse by profession, and in part because her favorite type of Simon and Simon fan fiction stories are those that are similar to the television episodes – a little drama, a little comedy, and a dose of brotherly love.

 

Most of the circumstances portrayed in this story happened during Anne’s long career as a labor and delivery nurse, including the man who was dividing his time visiting the rooms of his two pregnant girlfriends.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

A.J. entered the Simon and Simon office shortly after noon on Monday, the smell of Big Macs and French fries wafting through the McDonald’s bag he carried.  The blond used the heel of his right dress shoe to nudge the door closed. 

 

Rick’s voice filled the room. He was so engrossed in his telephone conversation that he didn't look up as A.J. unloaded half of the food on his desk.

 

A.J. walked to his own desk and removed the remaining Big Mac and fries. He tossed the bag into the garbage can, then opened the mini-refrigerator and pulled out a Coke. He caught Rick's attention as he held up another can of Coke and a can of Mountain Dew.

 

Rick pointed at the Mountain Dew as wrote something on a piece of paper.

 

"Okay, yeah. I turn right at the intersection, and the hospital will be on my left a block past that. I’ve got it.

 

“Yeah, we'll be there at two o'clock.

 

“Okay, thank you, Doctor Aaronson.

 

“Yeah, you, too. We'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Bye."

 

"What was that about?" A.J. handed Rick’s the Mountain Dew as the detective hung up the phone. "Who's Doctor Aaronson?"

 

"Well...Mom and I were gonna keep this a secret from ya,’ but since you caught me, I guess I'll have to tell you. Kid, we've had you committed. Doctor Aaronson’ll be charge of your care at your...uh...new home. Now, it's a real nice place, so don't get upset. After all, only the best for you, little brother."

 

A.J. shot his sibling a long-suffering look as he sat down behind his desk.  “Okay, you’ve had your fun.  Now out with it.  Who is Doctor Aaronson?”

 

 

 “The administrator at Mercy Hospital up in L.A."

 

A.J. took a bite of his Big Mac, chewed, and swallowed before asking, "What's a hospital administrator from up in L.A. want with us?" 

 

 

“Wants to see us about a job of some kind. He didn't wanna go into detail over the phone, so that's about all I know. He wants us to meet him at the hospital at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

 

A.J. glanced at the small calendar on the corner of his desk. "That’s fine. We don't have anything going on tomorrow. "

 

"I didn't think so."

 

"Did Aaronson give you any clue as to what this is about?"

 

"Nope. He was pretty secretive. But he did mention that he’s willin’ to pay us two hundred dollars more a day than we usually get if he decides to hire us. Plus, the hospital will pick up our hotel tab for however long we have to stay up there."

 

"Now that's the kind of job I like to see come our way.” A.J. took a swig of his Coke, then asked, “How’d he get our names? L.A.'s kind of far for our reputation to reach."

 

"He’s a friend of Bob Barton’s. Aaronson called Bob to see if he could give him some names and phone numbers of San Diego P.I.'s from the yellow pages. Bob told Aaronson he could do better than that - he could give him the names of two San Diego P.I.'s he's known for years."

 

A.J. smiled. "I knew having our family doctor as a family friend would come in handy some day."

 

 “Seems to have. Bob gave us a good recommendation. Whatever’s goin’ on up there, Aaronson wants to keep it quiet. He doesn't wanna run the risk of hiring a P.I. from L.A. in case someone in the hospital recognizes the guy.”

 

     “From what little we know at this point, it sounds like a good opportunity.”

 

 

“Yeah, it does. I could use the extra money right about now."

 

"You can always use the extra money."

 

"That's true. And because of that, I want us to make a good impression on Aaronson. Since he’s the hospital’s administrator, he must be a pretty important guy. ‘Cause of that, I want you to dress up tomorrow, A.J."

 

A.J. eyed his brother's attire of faded blue jeans, khaki work shirt, military jacket, and cowboy hat. Rick’s choice of clothing was, as usual, in sharp contrast to what A.J. was wearing - navy blue dress slacks, a gray tweed sports coat, a pale blue dress shirt, and a navy tie. He arched an eyebrow.

 

"What did you have in mind, Mr. Blackwell? A tuxedo?"

 

“No, no, that's too fancy. Just something plain, yet professional. Business-like. Your black suit will do. Black will impress a guy like this."

 

A.J. didn’t attempt to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Will my maroon tie be all right with my black suit, or do you have something else in mind?"

 

 

"Well...now...your maroon tie would have been a good choice, but...I...uh...I kinda borrowed it last week when I took Patty to that fancy restaurant you recommended. She really liked it, too, A.J."

 

"My tie? Or the restaurant?"

 

"Both, actually. But she really thought the tie looked

good on me, so I was thinkin' that maybe I'd wear it tomorrow. I mean, it's not like you don't have a lot of other ties to choose from, and I've only got two or three, and none as nice as that maroon one of yours, and--"

 

"Okay, Okay, stop. Your rambling is giving me a headache. Wear the tie. I'll choose another one."

 

"Just make sure whatever you pick out is professional looking. Something plain would be good, I think. Don't wear any with a busy pattern." 

 

"Busy pattern?"

 

"Yeah, you know, the ones with the little geometric designs, or stripes, or whatever."

 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Fashion," A.J. said as he put an end to the conversation and finished his lunch.

 

____________________

 

 

The Simon brothers entered the massive Los Angeles hospital at twenty minutes before two o'clock the next afternoon. A.J. couldn't recall the last time his brother had been so anxious about an impending case. Rick had made sure they left San Diego an hour before they needed to, so they wouldn’t be even thirty seconds late for their appointment. A.J. wasn't naive enough to think this was a new side to his brother that he would be seeing from now on. The bottom line in this situation was, when money talked, Rick Simon listened.  Especially when someone was offering to pay them more than their normal fee.

 

The detectives stopped at the receptionist’s desk in the lobby.  Within seconds, they had directions to Doctor Aaronson’s office.  They took the elevator up to the fifth floor, and stepped into a long corridor filled with clerical offices. The sound of file cabinet drawers opening and closing, and fingers keeping up steady rhythms on keyboards, drifted out to the brothers.  They walked to the large office at the end of the hallway and entered through the open door.  Doctor Aaronson’s secretary looked up from a file she was making notes in.

 

“May I help you, gentleman?”

 

“Yeah,” Rick said. “We’re here to see Doctor Aaronson.”

 

“And you are?”

 

“Rick and A.J. Simon of Simon and Simon Investigations. The doctor is expectin’ us.”

 

“Yes,” the woman acknowledged. She indicated to the couch that hugged the opposite wall.  “Please have a seat.  Doctor Aaronson will be with you shortly.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

As the brothers sat side by side on the sofa in the outer office, A.J. looked from himself to his sibling. By nothing other than chance, their black suits were identical from shade, to the cut of their jackets, right down to the cuffs at the bottom of their pant legs.

 

A.J. kept his voice low so the secretary wouldn’t overhear him.

 

"Rick, we look like undertakers dressed like this."

 

"No, we don't," Rick insisted. "We look professional.

Business-like. I don't understand what you're gripin' about anyway. You're always sayin' I don't dress up enough when we meet a client for the first time. Now that I am dressed up, all you can do is complain. Geez, A.J., there's just no pleasing you."

 

"That's not true! It's just that dressed like this we look more like Simon and Simon Mortuary, than we look like Simon and Simon Investigations."

 

"We do not. We look good. I can tell ‘cause that secretary keeps winking at me, and she's been givin’ you the eye."

 

A.J. glanced at the woman to see she was engrossed in her work, and didn’t appear to be the least bit interested in him or his sibling.  As Rick leaned forward to pick up a magazine from the coffee table, he whispered, "Quit tryin’ to get Aaronson’s secretary to notice you.  And your tie's crooked. Fix it."

 

A.J. lifted a hand to his gray tie, then dropped it in when he realized he had played right into Rick's little traps. He whispered, "Oh, shut up," as he, too, picked up a magazine and began reading.

 

Rick and A.J. looked up when two women and a man exited the administrator's office a few minutes later. The phone on the secretary’s desk rang.  She had a brief conversation with her boss, then told the detectives that Doctor Aaronson would see them.

 

 

Despite all his mumblings regarding their attire, A.J. couldn't help but smile as he followed Rick into the office. The oldest Simon straightened his already straight tie for the tenth time, and pulled down on the hem of his suit coat in an effort to get rid of non-existent wrinkles.

 

A.J. choked back a laugh when Doctor Aaronson met them at the door.  The man looked like he’d just come from the golf course. He was dressed in khaki trousers, a red polo shirt, and a khaki cardigan sweater. Rick's normal attire would have been fine for this meeting.

 

Rick must have been able to read his brother's mind, because he shot A.J. a look that warned, Don't even think about bringin’ this up later.

 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm Ken Aaronson."

 

Rick shook the hand extended to him. "Nice to meet you, Doctor Aaronson. I'm Rick Simon.” Rick jerked a thumb toward his sibling. “This is my brother, A. J."

 

A.J. and the doctor shook hands while exchanging pleasantries, then the man indicated to the chairs in front of his desk.

 

"Please, sit down.”  Aaronson shut the door. “May I get either of you anything? Coffee, or a soft drink?"

 

"No, nothin’ for me, thanks."

 

"No, thank you."  

 

Rick’s eyes flicked about the room. It was a typical executive’s office, from the oak paneling on the walls, to the bookshelves, to the filing cabinet on Rick’s right, and the massive oak desk in front of him that held family photographs in one corner. 

 

The doctor himself looked like a typical executive, too, minus the black suit, of course.  Rick estimated Aaronson to be in his late fifties.  He was six feet tall and lean, though had a bit of a paunch hidden beneath his sweater.  His hair was cut close to his head, and gray throughout, which made his blue eyes more striking.

 

The doctor circled the two men, stopping behind his desk and staring at their faces. A.J. and Rick traded glances.

 

What’s with this guy?

 

 Just when the detectives were growing uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Aaronson smiled.

 

"I think this might work."

 

When no other words were forthcoming, A.J. asked, "Excuse me, sir, but just what might work? Rick and I are in the dark regarding what it is you’d like us to do."

 

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I guess I do owe you an explanation, Mr. Simon."

 

"Call me, A.J., please. If you try to carry on this conversation by referring to both my brother and me as Mr. Simon, all three of us will only end up confused." 

 

The doctor chuckled, then said, "Yes, I can see where that could be a problem, A.J." The administrator looked from Rick to A.J. once again. “You two certainly don't look much like brothers, do you?"

 

Rick grinned.  "No, and our mom's pretty happy about that fact."

 

A.J. resisted the urge to ask, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He focused on Aaronson once again as the man said, “Well, Rick, I'm pretty happy about that fact, too."

 

“Pardon me?” A.J. questioned.

 

“Huh?” Rick asked.

 

"By the looks on your faces, I can see I’d better explain what I mean by that, and what I'd like to hire you for." The doctor sat down n his high-backed black leather chair. "As I told you on the phone, Rick, I felt I had to go outside of the Los Angeles area to hire a private detective for this...situation. This is a large hospital. We employ over two thousand people. I run too much of a risk that someone on the staff will recognize any detective I hire from this area. To complicate matters further, I need two detectives. I called Bob on a whim. I was surprised, and pleased, when he was able to give me your names. He spoke highly of both of you. I also dug further and received several glowing references regarding Simon and Simon Investigations."

 

A.J. hid his relief upon hearing those words. Some of his and Rick's past exploits would not prompt all of their clients to give glowing references. Thank God the man had made contact with the right people.

 

"I need the two of you to work on the same floor. You'll be in close contact with one another, so my only concern when Bob mentioned you were brothers, was that there would be a strong family resemblance. I wasn't sure we could pull this off if you looked enough alike for people to become suspicious. That's why I made that somewhat...off the wall comment earlier. I was relieved that I couldn't detect any strong resemblance between you."

 

Except for our suits, A. J. thought.

 

"I've always been relieved there isn't a strong resemblance either," Rick said with a grin. "It's like A.J. and I always tell people - same parents, different moods."

 

"Very different moods," A.J. added dryly.

 

The doctor chuckled. "Well, genes are funny things.

They combine in many different ways."

 

"They sure do," A.J. agreed, as he glared at his older

brother.

 

Rick decided it was time to let this subject drop in favor of discovering more about the potential job.

 

"Just what floor do you want us to work on?

 

"The Labor and Delivery floor."

 

"Pardon?”

 

Labor and Delivery. You gentlemen may have read articles in the newspaper pertaining to the ever increasing costs doctors face when establishing their own practices."

 

Rick and A.J. nodded as the man continued.

 

"Those articles don’t exaggerate. It's reaching a point that

cost-wise, it's financially draining for a young man or woman to set up his or her own practice in obstetrics. That's the area that is traditionally hit by the highest amount of malpractice suits. Because of this reason, there is a growing shortage of obstetricians in some parts of the country. That's why what's happening on my Labor floor has me mad as hell."

 

"What exactly is happening?" A.J. asked.

 

"Someone is stealing patient information. Whoever is doing this, is able to find out the medical history of any patient they choose – the patient’s doctor, how long she was here for, if there was any complications with the birth, things of that nature. From there, this person has been able to file falsified Medicare claims. So far, a total of fifty thousand dollars has been paid into bank accounts that have been opened with false I.D., and then closed immediately after the Medicare funds are withdrawn.”  

 

Rick whistled at that dollar figure. "How long has this been goin’ on?"

 

“A year, we think.  However, it first came to light just three weeks ago when an auditor from Medicare came to see me. He was here four days examining our records. We’ve reached a point where we know what’s happened, but not how it’s taken place, nor do we know who the instigator is.”

 

"So as of right now, you don't know if this person is workin’ alone, or with an accomplice.”

 

“That’s correct, Rick.  We don’t know that.”

 

“And you have no thoughts as to who might be behind this?” A.J. asked.

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

"We need to have a starting point,” Rick said. “We obviously can't observe two thousand employees. Can you give us a list of possible suspects? People you think are most likely to be your thief?" 

 

The doctor sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "I can give you names, but not suspects. The reason I say that is because it could be almost anybody with access to the records of our obstetrical patients.” 

 

The Simon brothers exchanged glances. Those few sentences had just made their job more difficult.

 

"Exactly what type of staff members are we talkin’ about then?"

 

"Well, it could be a nurse, a physician, an anesthesiologist, a lab technician, a records clerk, or even a secretary."

 

Rick arched an eyebrow.  "That narrows it down." 

 

"I know, I know, it's not a pretty picture," the doctor admitted.

 

“When you say access to patient records,” A.J. asked, “do you mean paper copies, or access via computer?”

 

“I suspect via computer, though I’m not one hundred percent certain.”

 

“What makes you suspicious someone is accessing the records usin’ a computer?”

 

“It would be less cumbersome and time consuming for one thing.”

 

“How so?” A.J. asked.

 

“A person would be taking a large risk of getting caught when it comes to gaining access to our records room, rifling through patient files, and making copies.”

 

“Is your records room locked?” Rick asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“So what about access to patient records on the computers?”

 

“That would be a lot easier for any authorized personnel.”

 

“Don’t tell me, let me guess. Any authorized personnel could be a nurse, a doctor, an anesthesiologist, a lab technician, a records clerk, or a secretary.”

 

“I’m afraid so, Rick, though I have my doubts that it's an obstetrician, simply because those doctors aren't on the floor using the computers with the frequency the other personnel I mentioned would be. But I could be wrong. Or it could be someone who is working with an obstetrician and splitting the money, or even working with a past patient, I suppose."

 

A.J. spoke up.  “I’m a little confused by what you meant when you said you were angry over what’s happening on your Labor floor. That sounds to me as though you’re certain this is where the crime was perpetrated.”

 

“I can’t say I know it for certain, but I suspect that’s the case.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because the computers on that floor are used frequently for updating patient information. Therefore, someone working at one of those computers wouldn’t necessarily draw the suspicions of those around him or her. In addition to that, those computers contain the only program we have for updating information on Labor and Delivery patients.”

 

“So in other words,” Rick said, “someone on the kids’ ward--”

 

“Pediatrics,” the doctor supplied.

 

“Yeah. Someone working at a computer on that floor, can’t access information for patients on your Labor floor?”

 

“Right.  Just like someone sitting at a computer on the Labor and Delivery floor, can’t access the records of our pediatric patients.”

 

“That narrows the possibilities down somewhat,” A.J. said.

 

Hope lit the doctor’s eyes.  “Does it?”

 

“Yes. Provided the person is using a computer at all, rather than breaking into your records room in the dead of night.”

 

“Do you think that could be happening? Someone would actually take that kind of a risk?”

 

“Doctor, one thing my brother and I have learned through the years, is that people will take a lot of risks where money is involved.”

 

     “Yes, I suppose that is an ugly fact of life, isn’t it.”

 

     “Seems to be,” Rick said.

 

     “Someone committing Medicare fraud based on information he or she has gained from this hospital concerns me enough,” the administrator confessed, “but what concerns me even more, is that this could be taken to another level.”

 

     “What’s that?”  A.J. asked.

 

     “Insurance fraud. Falsified malpractice claims aren’t unheard of in the medical community.  I’m afraid that if my...thief has gone this far, he or she will go even farther given the opportunity to do so.”

 

     Rick nodded.  “It’s a possibility.”

 

     “As I said, it’s bad enough that young doctors are turning away from obstetrics because of the costs involved.  What makes it even worse, is when someone in the field perpetrates a crime like this.”

 

     “I understand how you feel,” A.J. said. "So, based on what you’ve told us, more than likely whoever is filing these false claims does work, however briefly, on your Labor and Delivery floor. No one from Pediatrics, for example, would go to the Labor floor to use a computer there, would they?"

 

"No. No, they'd have no reason to. Each floor has their own computers and printers.”

 

“Do you use a password system for computer access?” Rick asked.

 

“We haven’t been, but we certainly will be now.”

 

“Not now,” A.J. advised. “Don’t put any changes in place until after Rick and I have a chance to see what’s going on.  Making a change could cause your thief to bolt.”

 

“All right,” the doctor agreed.

 

“Please get us a list of all personnel who would have access to the computers on your labor floor. Even the physicians whom you say aren't there long enough to use them. Rick and I know from experience that sometimes the last place you look, is where you should have started."

 

Aaronson nodded. "I'll provide you with that list before you leave here today." 

 

"What other personnel would commonly be seen on this floor?" Rick questioned, as he finally gave in and loosened the tie that had been driving him nuts all afternoon.

 

At the administrator's puzzled look, Rick elaborated. "A.J. and I will need to go undercover. And since we don't qualify as pregnant women by a long shot, we'll have to come up with something else. We need to be able to access the computers whenever we want to, and we'll need some freedom to come and go as we please." Rick paused in thought, then suggested, "How about janitors, or orderlies, or something like that?"

 

"You'd have freedom to come and go in those roles, Rick, but you'd have no reason to be near the computers."

 

"Oh." 

 

"Actually, I've given this a lot of thought, gentlemen, and after talking at length with the members of the hospital board, I'm hopeful we can pull this off."

 

"Pull what off?" A.J. questioned.

 

The administrator looked from one brother to the other. “Rick, I want you to pose as an anesthesiologist. And you, A.J., as an obstetrician."

 

Rick grinned, while A.J. exclaimed, "What!"

 

After he was able to bring his voice down to it’s normal octave, A.J. informed the man, "Doctor, if you think you have the potential for malpractice claims now, you haven't seen anything yet. Rick and I know nothing about delivering babies. We're not doctors! I never even got my merit badge for First Aid in Boy Scouts because I hate the sight of blood. The Scoutmaster gave up on me after I passed out for the third time, and the blood wasn't even real."

 

"Believe me, A.J., you and Rick won't be delivering any babies. All three of us would be in hot water if that happens. Rick will be posing as an anesthesiologist who is here doing research pertaining to a multi-centered study on the motor-sensory anesthetic advantages of Ropivicaine verses Bupivicaine."

 

"I hope I don't have to explain that to anyone,” Rick said.  “On second thought, I hope I don't have to say that to anyone. I can’t even pronounce it, not to mention that I have no idea what it means.”

 

The doctor smiled. "I'll help you with your pronunciation just in case anyone asks, Rick. But no, you won't have to explain it. Any medical person would know what it means."

 

"Good."

 

“In that role you'll have all the reason you need to sit at a computer, or to get up and leave the area if your investigation warrants it.” 

 

Rick nodded his agreement to this suggestion. The administrator had questioned him on the phone as to how knowledgeable he and A.J. were concerning computers. Rick had been able to assure the man that both he and his brother were skilled in this area. They’d had a computer at the Simon and Simon office for two years, and though Rick had balked about the idea at first, he and A.J. had also taken numerous computer courses at a junior college since buying the instrument.  Considering what the administrator was willing to pay for this job, Rick decided the night classes he had been forced to take were finally going to payoff.

 

Interrupting his brother's thoughts, A.J. asked, "And...uh...where does that leave me?"

 

"Well, A. J., how does Doctor Simon sound to you?"

 

"Oh, no," A.J. groaned.

 

"Gee, that'll be great, A.J. Mom always did want you to be a doctor."

 

"Mom wanted me to be a lawyer, Rick."

 

Rick shrugged, "Lawyer, doctor, whatever. They both make a lot of money."

 

“A.J., you're going to be labeled as an observer here from a small, rural hospital in Franksville, Oregon. I have a vacation home there. It's a town of about five thousand people right on the Pacific coast. It does have a small hospital that serves the area. No one will question you about this, as I've brought young doctors from there in the past for a few weeks of training and observation. One of my closest friends is the administrator at Franksville Community Hospital. We work together to coordinate this training program. He believes it’s beneficial for the interns to see what the fast paced environment of a big city hospital is like."

 

"You just said this training was for young doctors,” A.J. pointed out. “How young are these doctors you're talking about?"

 

"Oh, usually around twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Why?"

 

A.J. smiled, thinking that what he was about to reveal would be his ticket to freedom, or at least to a job as a janitor.

 

"I'm forty-three."

 

"You don't look it. You could easily pass as being in your early thirties. Regardless, it doesn't make that much difference. If someone questions you about your age, you can say you went to college later than most people do, or that you were in a different career, then decided to go back to school and pursue medicine. These days anything goes, believe me. Not that long ago we had a female intern who was fifty-four. She had raised her family and then had gone to college for the first time at the age of forty-two."