Texas Tango: A Flint Rock Novel Read Free Page B

phone, made all appointments herself, and sent out bills personally.
     
    Ava’s reason for looking at her office space was to show Flint the front door.   It had a key pad which appeared to be working, but the door would not lock.  
     
    “It functioned last night, but this morning I found it this way.   I have called the lock service that installed this unit.   They sent a fellow who looked at it an hour ago and is coming back this afternoon to replace it.   The computer chip appears to have been programmed to keep it unlocked and he could not get it to reprogram.
     
    Flint thought for a moment.   “Where do you keep your patient records?” he asked.
     
    “I don’t keep many paper files.   People who come to me as referrals sometimes bring paperwork with them.   I keep those files in a cabinet in a locked closet.   I have electronic records on the server of Cloud Medical Records, a company that specializes in such things.”
     
    Ava paused, then continued.   “I make audio and video recordings of my interactions with clients.   Those go wirelessly to the computer tower there next to the desk by the windows."   Ava pointed to a small lens on the wall near the Rorschach sketch and to a small statue on an end table next to the client’s chair.   “The small sculpture has a wireless microphone,” she said gesturing toward the statue.   "Electronic voice and image files are auto saved to a solid state flash drive in the USB port.   The tower saves to the external server every forty-five minutes.   I tell patients in the initial session that all actions and conversations are recorded.”
     
    “Anyone ever object?”
     
    “Not yet.   I don’t accept a person as a client if they refuse to be recorded.”
     
    “Are we being recorded now?” he asked.
     
    “No.   I activate the system each day at the beginning of the first session and turn it off at the end of the last session.   Ava walked to the desk and pulled a small oblong item from a USB port.   She showed it to Flint as she said, “this is a thirty-two gig solid state storage device.   I insert a fresh drive at the beginning of each month and store the used ones in my residence.”
     
      “Do you keep any notes?”
     
    “Not extensive.   I have trained myself to remember whatever I need to know for the sessions themselves.   Insurance companies all require standardized codes."   She glanced at a two inch thick volume lying on top of the credenza.   "That book is the fourth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.   Experts refer to it as the DSM Four.   It elaborates several hundred codes and twenty-seven decision trees derived from the symptoms, syndromes, and disease descriptions contained in it."
     
    Ava paused and Flint said, "Yes, I know the DSM Four."
     
    "Really!" Ava rejoined.   "How'd that happen?   It's not exactly bedtime reading."
     
    "I got bored between flights, so I took a lot of graduate psych classes offered by the University of Texas in Arlington.   I was flying out of DFW for a number of years."
     
    Ava looked at Flint, then refocused on their discussion.   "I keep each client's codes and brief notes in a spreadsheet on the computer.   I do that after sessions or at the end of the day.”
     
    Flint glanced around.   “Anyone other than you with access to this space?”
     
    “A cleaning service dusts, sweeps, and sanitizes everything six nights a week.   They know the door lock combination.   Restrooms are public, located part way down the hall, shared by tenants on each floor.”
     
    “Anything else I should see?” Flint asked.
     
    “No, that’s it.   Let’s have some tea.”  
     
    They again stepped across Willie Nelson Boulevard.   Ava spoke cordially to a young woman who provided information and security at the desk on the ground floor of the Austonian.   They took the elevator up to the forty-seventh floor where Flint hung his coat and brown