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“I’m sorry, sir,” the moronic bitch on the phone replied, “but I can’t discuss any client cases unless you are a member of the family.”
“I don’t want to discuss her case,” I said. “I just want to find out why her worker hasn’t been here.”
“The name of her case worker, please?”
Now she says please. I was about to march over to the Family Foundations building and please myself by tearing her tongue out of her mouth.
“Her name is Meredith.”
“Last name?”
“I have no fucking idea,” I snapped, “and as you might recall from twenty minutes ago, this is where this whole conversation started!”
“There’s no reason to yell at me!”
“Other than your incompetence?” I was way past civil, and I knew that wasn’t going to get me far. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. Perhaps patronizing her would work better, so I started all over again from the beginning. “Her name is Meredith. She’s Katie Took’s social worker and has been for the last three years. She gave me her number in case Katie ever needed anything, and when I try to call it, the phone rings busy. I don’t think anyone’s been to see Katie in a couple of weeks at least. She’s not cashing her checks, and there’s no food in the apartment.”
“Oh, that’s just terrible!”
I rolled my eyes.
“So, if you could just tell me how I can get hold of Meredith, I’m sure she’d figure everything out.”
“Meredith is a client receiving services?”
“No, she works there.”
“And the client’s name?”
I sighed deeply, banged my head against the receiver end of the phone a couple of times, and then put it back to my ear.
“Katie Took.”
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have a Katie Took registered. Perhaps another agency?”
“You are the only agency in town!”
“We are?”
I slammed the phone down. Then I picked it back up and slammed it down a couple more times just for good measure. I stopped when I managed to catch my thumb in the middle.
“Shit!” I rubbed it a couple times before sticking it in my mouth. Why does biting down on something make it feel better?
“Has the phone done something terrible this morning?” Tria walked around the corner with her hair all wrapped up in a towel.
I wish it had been her body wrapped up in a towel, which I could accidently make fall to the floor.
“I can’t reach Krazy Katie’s worker.”
“Why do you want to?”
“Because,” I sighed. I ran my hands through my hair. “There are two disability checks in her apartment, which means she hasn’t had cash in six weeks or so, and she’s got no food in the house at all. Her worker usually talked her into going to the store every week.”
Tria’s eyes got big as she glanced toward the bedroom and presumably toward Krazy Katie’s usual camping spot.
“Is she okay?”
“Fuck if I know,” I said with a shrug.
