by Una Tiers
Now I was curious what Liam said and wanted to erase the message so no nosey body from the office could play it.
As I was closing my office door, Annette handed me one envelope.
“You got mail,” she joked.
“That’s it?” I asked, disappointed not to even get junk mail.
“Don’t complain, it doesn’t look like a bill.”
Fully suspicious I waited after she left then peeked out into the hall to be certain she was gone. I turned the volume on the answering machine just loud enough to hear it with my ear an inch away from the speaker.
The message was from Liam. He said they were married in Orlando, Atlantic City or Phoenix. They would get jobs at the library, diner or coffee shop. I shook my head with worry and best wishes to them.
The lone letter was from Liam:
‘Ms. Gavelle, I am happy to have you as my lawyer. My retainer is enclosed, I’m sorry it is small. As soon as we get Sue’s accounts wired here, I will send a little more. This should trigger the confidentiality rules. Thanks. We should really be Mr. and Mrs. Ulner by the time you get this.’
The post mark on the letter was from Palatine, Illinois, two days ago. That’s the place where mail for our area is sorted.
There were three ten dollar bills inside.
A light tap at the door made me jump. David read my face.
“What did you find Fiona?”
“Nothing.” This was a professional lie, I now had a confidentiality obligation to Liam. And thirty dollars.
“Well we did. Liam Ulnar, Sue’s boyfried is gone, his apartment is empty, and he got rid of everything he owned in the last few weeks. He even got his security deposit back and told the landlord he was going to New York.”
“Did he have a car?” I wondered out loud.
“The neighbor said he took the bus for groceries and the landlord said he didn’t rent a parking space.”
David looked at me as if it would make me sing like a canary.
“So,” David switched gears, “on the other matter, we’ve been monitoring the judge’s probate file.”
“It’s in the file room?”
“The one for Judge R. Etapage is in the file room.”
“What was in the file?“
“The claims.”
“I can’t talk about them.”
“Fiona, not to split hairs but your confidentiality runs to what you learn from your client, right?”
“Right, but the facts are too close to analyze and tell one tidbit but not the next. I’m not that smart.”
“I’m sorry, but you are that smart and I tell you things I shouldn’t tell all the time.” He tried the charming look, without luck.
”Fiona?”
“We both hold things back David.”
“We’re quite a pair,” he laughed. His laugh mesmerized me.
I wish, I said to myself but laughed with him.
“I have a theory to run by you.”
“Okay.” I said. I sat back in my chair to listen. He was talking in a flirty boyfriend way. I was smitten.
“Will you listen to all of it before you say anything?”
I agreed for many wrong reasons.
“Let’s say the judge wanted elective, cosmetic surgery. Her insurance wouldn’t cover it. So if she had an eight thousand dollar face lift, she would have to pay for it out of her pocket. But if a doctor recommended the surgery, the insurance would cover the costs.
Everyone, including the daughter has described the judge as tightfisted with money and vain about her appearance.
“And arrogant,” I added.
“Right, she may have had someone at least agree to tamper with the paperwork.”
“For money?” I asked.
“For money or maybe she had some dirt on someone, something to hold over their head. A judge would have that kind of power.
But something went wrong, and the paperwork wasn’t doctored the way she wanted. And maybe, the person who didn’t doctor the paperwork murdered her to get out from under the blackmail.”
Trying to replay his theory, it was good and I decided, “I like it.”
“But?”
“But how does it tie into the murder?”
“It doesn’t, but maybe it doesn’t have to be connected. We still think the murder is connected into something she did as a judge.” His confidence beamed in his statement. David is a man who loves his work.
“You mean a bad ruling?”
“Or one somebody really didn’t want.”
“But it could have been appealed,” I countered.
“Aren’t appeals very expensive?”
“Yes, expensive, time consuming and likely plagued with politics, but murder?”
“It’s the way some people settle differences,” he pointed out. “We see it all the time, sadly.”
I thought about Eddy. I thought about Sue. I thought about Nessie.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking these are older people in nursing homes and not murderers, thugs or miscreants. David how can you realistically think they murdered someone?”
“All I’m saying is that some of the people at the nursing home had good reason to hate the judge. Whether or not it was enough for them to take such drastic action, I can’t say. But when you think about it, they may not have much to lose. Would a jury convict a senior who lived in a nursing home?”
Was David really cold hearted at his core? This side didn’t appeal to me.
“Fiona, are all of the people in the nursing home under a guardianship?”
“I have no idea, other than my stereotypes.”
“What stereotypes?”
Awkwardly, I explained a few of them.
“Well I think a lot of the people we saw the other night at Know Acres were having trouble walking. It didn’t seem that they could carry on a conversation,” he said in an attempt at consolation.
My assumptions about people in nursing homes were crumbling but continued to embarrass me.
“So,” David continued, “I went over to the law library and read a little about guardianship. It’s a little like a criminal case. And it’s confusing. Give me a nice criminal case any day of the week, the lines and rules are clear.”
“How does guardianship resemble criminal law?”
“Aren’t the seniors almost charged with the crime of not being able to take care of themselves?”
Thinking it over, he was right. The state says you can’t manage your decisions. But unlike a crime, there isn’t anything like an alibi.
There were defenses but the stigma of guardianship court seemed to make beating the wrap an uphill battle. Even the court medical form seemed to carry a presumption that the person was more likely incapable than capable. And like the criminal courts, the guardianship court took away rights.
“David, guardianship is new to me. I compare it to decedent’s estates, but here we have a live person in the equation.”
Suddenly I hated guardianship.
We bantered the possibilities and David headed back to the office. I thought about introducing him to Andrew. I wanted to ask him if they could charge Liam with kidnapping, but with that thirty dollars burning a hole in my pocket, would have to find out on my own.
“Hello Andrew, I have another hypothetical.”
“Go ahead Fiona,” he sounded amused and happy to hear from me.
“There are two levels. Level one. Let’s say a person I don’t represent is under a guardianship. And say that person leaves a hospital, retirement or nursing home. And they also leave Illinois. Can the Illinois court make them return?”
“Like extradition?”
“Yes, like extradition. Is there a civil side to it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a case where the person ran away. There is something in the mental health code but I’m not too familiar with how it works. I know the court can prevent a person from getting to their accounts after a guardian of the
estate is appointed,” he replied. “So if they leave the state, Illinois could probably hang onto their money. That would make it very difficult for them.”
“Okay, the second level, is if a person helps a person leave a hospital, retirement or nursing home, could they be charged with a crime?”
“Did they force them to leave?”
“Let’s say no.”
“Was there a court order for the third party not to remove the adult from the nursing home?”
“No.”
“Then I would opine, no crime, unless aiding and abetting is a crime.”
I thanked Andrew and as soon as I hung up, he called back.
“Fiona I had one other thought, can a judge in Illinois exert jurisdiction over a person in say Indiana or California?”
“Excellent Andrew. I think that’s how extradition is defined. I’ll do a little research.” That was another lie I didn’t want to know what the law was. I get by with a little help from my friends.
Chapter Twenty-Six
David stopped in at the office at noon with a brown paper bag. My eyes lit up and my nose sniffed in appreciation and a guess.
“Eggplant?” I asked.
“Of course,” he laughed with confidence.
I stole two bottles of Paul’s water and felt like it was spring and we were madly in love. Maybe after lunch we would run through a meadow.
“We got more information,” he started out teasing me.
“Yes?”
“We think someone was posing as a nurse at Know Acres and was involved in the murder.”
“How would that work?”
David looked at me a little crooked before he continued. I tried to wear a somber face instead of enjoying the lunch with a goofy grin.
“Remember I said a nurse checked on the judge at eleven PM the night she died?”
I nodded.
“And wrote in the chart that the patient was asleep?”
“Yes.”
“We asked to talk to a nurse with the initials from the chart, “GMO” but they don’t match any staff at the Know Acres.”
“Bad handwriting?” I suggested.
“The nursing supervisor didn’t think so. When she compared the staff list who worked the night the judge was murdered, none of the names of the staff were even remotely close. She also said the nurses use first and last initials only. The doctors usually write in their last name and MD.”
The word, murdered, was so harsh. My memory clicked in, Liam said Sue worked as a nurse. But her initials weren’t remotely like GMO.
“Fiona?” he asked bringing me back to the present.
“What if staff switched shifts?”
“I will ask her, but somehow I think it will be another dead end.”
“So you think someone dressed up as a nurse and murdered her?” I distracted him from my thoughts about Sue.
“Sure, the imposter could have carried in food tainted with the crushed pills. And they could have marked the chart that the patient was asleep.”
“Couldn’t she, was it a woman?”
“Yes, the men on staff work the day shift. She said it was a coincidence.”
“Well David, couldn’t she have marked the chart that the patient was asleep before she, um, did the evil deed?”
“That’s another possibility. Thanks,” he added.
“But wouldn’t the nurse who was supposed to check on the judge notice a stranger? Wouldn’t the nurse who was supposed to bring her dinner notice there was someone else there?”
“I agree, but sometimes people don’t pay close attention to things. Who would think someone would dress up as a nurse to feed someone an overdose of medicine?”
“It happens on old detective programs all the time on television. But what about the chart David?”
“Let’s say the imposter nurse, removed the chart, and made the notes that the patient was asleep earlier than 11 PM. Then they put the chart where it wouldn’t be located. Maybe the chart was located after 11 PM and the notes precluded them from checking on her.”
“I guess it could happen. The halls would be empty during the meal times and someone could come in and get to work.” I guessed that the imposter nurse had to be familiar with the routine at Know Acres to succeed.
“Or the halls could be busy with nurses and aides taking food to the patients who eat in their room. And maybe there is another twist. There was a special dessert that evening, molten lava cake,” he answered with furrowed brow. “The travanex crushed up would blend in with the chocolate sprinkles.”
“How would they know what would be served? Assuming they brought something in,” I asked.
“They didn’t have to bring anything in. The menu’s are printed a week in advance and list the choices for the meals each day. The imposter could have carried in a similar dessert that was already peppered with the overdose and maybe even put it in the microwave. The menu said it was served hot. Or they could have mixed the crushed pills into the dessert from the kitchen.”
“How do you know she ate dessert?” I wondered.
“Her stomach contents…” David stopped.
“Generally,” I cued him.
“The judge didn’t have dinner, only dessert.”
“Maybe she was saving calories?”
“Wouldn’t it fit? Someone who has cosmetic surgery? Someone who was vain?”
I had to agree.
“However, if she didn’t eat dinner, and the autopsy confirmed that she didn’t, it meant the drug acted faster,” he added sheepishly.
“So what was the pillow about?”
“Hard to guess. Maybe the drugs didn’t work fast enough, or the nurse impersonator wanted to make sure no one would find her in time to try to save her.”
A shudder went through my body. “You mean after that huge dose of drugs, it wasn’t fatal?”
“If they found her, maybe they could have helped her. We won’t ever know.”
“And the bruises?” I asked.
“We have a theory about that now, do you want to hear? It’s not pretty.”
I figured it out. “Someone was beating her and another person was holding the pillow so she wouldn’t holler?”
He nodded with disgust. “I think somebody really wanted to hurt her. No, I’m convinced.”
“There could be two people involved then?” I asked.
“Even three,” he answered. “The nurse imposter and two others who held the pillow and beat her.”
I didn’t like his theory.
“Would the person who gave her an overdose hang around and see if it worked?”
“No probably not,” he answered grimly.
“So the suffocation and the overdose were likely two attempts by different people on her life. That’s why the cause of death is hard to determine, ” he added.
I wondered if he was saying the cause of death was undetermined to throw me off course, like a red herring.
“David, the nurse theory could point to anyone who could slip into Know Acres. But I hope you aren’t pointing a finger at a patient, especially not at Eddy. He never saw the judge, he never went to court. He wouldn’t know what she looked like.”
“Fiona, while we aren’t looking at Eddy, he knew her name, didn’t he? And the patient names are on the doors to their rooms. And you said he moved around the building to the library and such.”
He waited for my response, but I simply shook my head in a no.
“I’m just trying to show the other side of the coin.”
“Do you even know if her name was on the door David?”
“No, we don’t. But I’ll find out.”
Eddy? A murderer? No way, I thought.
“We spoke to the nurse dietician. She said everyone eats at the same time. They have a checklist for the patients and where they eat. She said everyone was where they were supposed to be.”
“How many people live on that floor?”
“Twenty-two patients were registered th
at day. The dining room notes say four patients needed help. Everyone else ate in the dining room, except for the judge. The dietician said on nights where the dessert is spectacular, the patients come in early.”
“Would it take very long to deliver a poison dessert?”
“Maybe not.” He shook his head in aversion.
“But how would the fake nurse deliver the meal that someone else was supposed to bring?” I questioned. “Did I just ask that question a minute ago?”
“Good question, you did ask it but I don’t have an answer. Maybe everyone pitches in instead of any particular nurse being assigned to a patient.”
My memory blinked to the twins, Nessie and Chessie. I wasn’t sure if they were identical twins and could substitute for one another. I kept my mouth shut. Nessie was in the hospital anyway, and Chessie said she didn’t go out after dark.
“Would the police be able to get prescription information in light of the privacy laws David?”
“What?”
“The law about the privacy of medical records without written authorization,” I explained a little bit about HIPPA, the current medical records privacy law.
“The nursing home already gave us a list of who is prescribed travanex. It’s a common drug. Almost every patient on the floor has a prescription.”
While I wanted to know if Eddy had a prescription, I didn’t want to ask.
“Eddy is one of the few that did not, but you didn’t hear that from me,” he offered maybe reading my mind.
“If a patient spit out the pill to save it to poison the judge, wouldn’t the nurse notice?”
“We asked, and say they watch the patients when the medications are passed out. Although they say it is impossible for a nurse not to notice, I think it is very possible.”
I agreed with a smile.
“I like when you’re cynical Fiona.”
I laughed in response.
“And, if the patient saved one pill a day wouldn’t they have to go without the medication for almost a week. Isn’t that unreasonable?”
“And live with the pain,” David added. “What if several patients were involved? What if they got the drug somewhere else? What if they were very determined?”
