D.D. cocked her head to the side. Studied Danielle and Greg. “That’s right. The Harringtons were using services from both Gym Boy and Healer Boy. Any other additional services?” She stared at Danielle.

Danielle shook her head. “I’m a nurse. Even to babysit, you couldn’t afford me.”

Greg, however, had turned a deep, dark shade of red.

D.D. leaned forward, regarded him steadily. “Come on, spit it out. Confession’s good for the soul.”

“There, um, there might be a reason the Harringtons used both me and Andrew.”

“Really? Do tell.”

Danielle was staring at him, too, the expression on her face wide-eyed, the person standing on the tracks seeing the train coming.

“Andrew found out about my respite work. Coincidentally, a family who hired me also hired him. He put the pieces together.”

D.D. arched a brow. So Lightfoot had something on the good-looking MC. So much for Karen’s little spiel about knowing everything about her staff.

“So, um …” Greg closed his eyes, blew out a breath. “Andrew suggested that when I worked with a family, particularly a wealthy family, I could recommend his services. If the family ended up hiring him, he’d then throw a little something my way. Like a finder’s fee.”

“Cash, you mean. More money.”

“Generally fifty bucks.”

“My, my, my,” D.D. mused. She turned to Alex. “And here Lightfoot told us he was giving his gift away.”

“Oh sure,” Greg said sarcastically. “To the tune of a hundred an hour.”

“Anyone else in on this?” D.D. asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Other MCs moonlighting as respite workers? Other therapists asking you to refer their services?”

“None that I know of. But again, not exactly something anyone can talk about on the floor. Maybe other staff members work outside the unit. Maybe not. You’d have to ask them.”

Alex spoke up. “Wait a minute. First the Harringtons are paying you thirty an hour to take Ozzie to the park. Then they’re paying Lightfoot a hundred an hour for counseling. They didn’t have that kind of money.”

“They’d submit the bills to the state, which generally covers a couple of hours of respite care a month. So the state paid for half my time, with the Harringtons making up the difference. As for Andrew, I don’t know, but I’m betting they put it under ‘psychiatric services.’ I saw paperwork once, on the kitchen table. It didn’t look like an invoice from a spiritual healer, but more like a clinical doctor. Andrew had initials after his name and everything. I’m guessing that was his way of finessing the system for people like the Harringtons.”

“People like the Harringtons maybe,” Alex said, still not sounding convinced, “but what about Tika’s family? No way they could afford even a fraction of your bill.”