Page 89 of Don't Say a Word
“What did he decide to do?”
“Owns a business. Installs and repairs HVAC systems. He’s going to make a shit-ton more money than all of us put together,but that’s Jimmy. Barely graduated from high school, but he can fix anything.” She leaned forward. “Fortunately, he recognizes his limitations and hired a good accountant who happens to be my husband.”
“You have an interesting family.”
“I wouldn’t trade them.”
I liked her. Her family reminded me of my own.
Scotty, the bartender, came over to our table. He’d worked here eight years ago when I did, and he hadn’t changed, except maybe a little more gray threaded through his dark hair.
“Usual, Margo?”
“Yep,” I said. To Jessica I said, “On me, beer, food, both.”
“My husband’s cooking, so I’ll just take a beer. Harp?”
Scotty nodded, went back to the bar.
“Come here a lot I take it?” Jessica said.
“I used to work here while getting my PI business off the ground.”
“My husband and I used to come in here all the time when we lived nearby, but we bought a house in Anthem a couple years ago.”
“You commute all the way downtown?” Forty-five minutes—longer if she worked regular business hours.
“Sacrifices,” she said. “We’re trying to start a family and Anthem is a nice community, good schools. My husband works from home, likes the quiet. And I can work out of the Black Mountain precinct half the time.” Black Mountain was the northernmost substation for Phoenix PD.
Scotty came back with Jessie’s Harp and my Guinness.
“So,” Jessie said after taking a sip, “Rick says you want to pick my brain about EBT fraud and scams. Pick away. I’m yours for the next thirty minutes.”
“What types of cases do you investigate?”
“I primarily investigate criminal fraud of city and state resources. The last major case I wrapped up was working with the AG’s office on a Medicaid fraud scam.”
“How does that work?”
She laughed lightly. “In a nutshell? An individual buys or steals a list of Medicaid recipients and then charges Medicaid for services not provided.”
“A doctor?”
“Not always. In this case, it started with a receptionist in a provider’s office. She copied all the Medicaid patients’ records, then with her mother, opened a mental health clinic. It started during COVID when there was far less oversight. They were so profitable they kept it going for years before we shut them down.”
“I don’t understand. They were ambulance chasers for mental health services?”
“No. There was no actual clinic. They filed false Medicaid claims for patients they never saw for services they never provided.”
“How do you catch things like that?”
“It’s not easy. Nearly ten percent of payments a year—over one hundredbilliondollars—are for improper payments. People who don’t qualify. Paying more benefits than allowed. Double payments. Paying landlords directlyandsending the same benefit to the recipient. I could go on and on. For me, I get frustrated because there are people who need help, so when I can stop someone from committingactualfraud, it feels good.”
“How’d you catch the mother-daughter team?”
“They got greedy. If you keep your scams on the down-low, it’s next to impossible to catch you—especially since audits are limited and rare. But they added more patients to their fictional list, and one of those individuals was getting real psychiatric services. That doc ran the patient’s records, saw something hinky, and alerted the AG’s office. My team was brought in, and it took us six months of interviews and legwork to wrap up those women with a pretty bow for the prosecution.”
“Neither was even a doctor?”
