Dear Ms. Connolly,

I hope this letter finds you well. Please note that there is an outstanding balance due immediately on your account #44953 in the amount of $500.00 for emergency services rendered on July 18 of this year. If you have already paid this bill, please disregard this notice. If you have questions or concerns, please call 518-343-2200 and ask for the billing department.

Sincerely,

Carla Beddington,

Billing & Payments Supervisor

Emergency services? Annie—if that’s who I saw dancing in the living room and hugging in the foyer of 21 Pine Hill—had appeared perfectly fine a few weeks after the supposed emergency service. Could this bill have been a mistake? I studied the contact number embedded in the letter, reaching for my cell phone.

The woman who answered was named Natalie something-or-other. Reading the signature at the bottom of the missive, I asked to speak with Carla Beddington. I was put on hold for so long, I thought I’d been disconnected, but a friendly voice eventually filled the dead air space.

“Carla Beddington,” she said, managing to sound both efficient and cheerful. “How may I help you?”

“Hello,” I began, squaring my shoulders and pushing air from my diaphragm in a feeble attempt to sound annoyed. “My name’s Annie Connolly. I just received a bill for your hospital’s emergency services on July 18 of this year, and I believe there’s been a mistake. I’m perfectly healthy and?—”

“Hold on,” Carla cut in. She also kept me stranded on hold, but this time Muzak trickled through the phone line. A Lawrence Welky version of a Rolling Stones tune, like Dr. Gleason used to subject his patients to every damn day. As a kid in his reception area waiting for my mother’s shift to end, I’d hated the canned background music, which distorted my favorite songs so much. I was tempted to hang up and try the hospital’s billing department at a later time.

“Thanks for holding,” Carla chirped. “I found records for an S. Connolly for that date. Is Annie your nickname?”

“Yes,” I said, the word sounding more like a question than an affirmation.

“And what’s your first name?”

“If I told you that I’d have to kill you,” I joked, trying to stall.Could Annie be short for Suzanne?I couldn’t risk it. Not knowing my own first name would raise a red flag the size of Rhode Island.

Carla didn’t laugh.

I quickly backtracked, going for a phony emotional appeal. “Look, Ms. Beddington. I hate my first name. Could we just stick with the first initial?”

“I guess so. That’s what you did on the eighteenth.”

“Ummm, yeah, right.”

There was a pause on the line. “Wait, you just said you weren’t here on that date.”

I tried not to sigh. Cheerful Carla wasn’t a complete idiot.

“What date?” I tried for a genuinely confused tone.

“July 18.”

“I wasn’t.”

“But you just confirmed the use of only your first initial on the eighteenth?—”

“I always go by just the first initial.” I gnawed on my lower lip. There was an excellent chance Carla was going to ask me my birth date next. I’d have to cut her off at the pass. “Look, I’m on my lunch hour and your office has kept me waiting on the phone so long that I won’t have time to eat. Can you just tell me what I was supposedly treated for this past July 18?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Carla’s voice sounded genuine. “It looks like... hmm... would you mind if I put you on a very short hold?”

“Yes, I would. I have no more time to wait,” I snapped. “Why can’t you just tell me what you see in my records?”

“I see that you already paid in cash. There’s a notation in the lower right corner. The data-entry person probably didn’t notice it. I wanted to point this out to her.”

“Feel free to do that when I’m no longer on the phone.” My tone dripped nastiness. I’d have to dial it back if I wanted to get any more information out of Carla. “Meanwhile, I was treated for...?”

But Carla refused to detour from her sworn duty as head of the hospital’s billing staff. “You can disregard the bill, with my deepest regrets for any inconven?—”