by Una Tiers
I rolled my eyes. “And?”
“My cousin will get involved, she loves people.”
“And?” I nearly screamed. It didn’t occur to me that she couldn’t see my hand rolling motion to hurry up and get to the point.
“Martha said she was so doped up, she drifted in and out of sleep. She was mumbling and after fifteen minutes, a nurse asked her to leave because the patient was not allowed visitors other than immediate family. Can you imagine that?”
“Did she talk to her at all?”
“No, she said Dorothy was mumbling about her family and then about headstones, her purse and a cell phone.”
“Dorothy has a cell phone?”
“Yes, she got a free one at the senior center. She takes it with her all the time but I don’t know if she uses it. She never gave the number to me.” Emma paused. “Martha and I are both going tomorrow.”
My heart pounded and ached for Dorothy. But honestly I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know whether or not she was sick, Dorothy declined to make powers of attorney. So if she wasn’t okay and able to make decisions, there wasn’t anyone in line to make her decisions.
She was okay yesterday, in her own way. Did something happen to her or did someone do something to her?
I placed a call to Dorothy at Last Acres but was told her room didn’t have a telephone and that she could not be called to the phone. As a parting remark, I was told that she could only have calls from immediate family members, including her husband and adult children.
Sleep eluded me that night. How could I help her? I wasn’t sure I could represent her. I guess I had to go to the nursing home as soon as she could talk.
Chapter Nine
Late Wednesday afternoon, he walked into my office and blushed. David Giovanni was a love interest not too long ago. Not anymore. He was placed in the wrong guy category. Still, he looked good and parts of me were happy to see him.
“Ms. Gavelle.” He removed his jacket, hung it on the back of the chair, closed the door and sat down comfortably. Oddly this aroused me at one time. It still did a little for me now.
“Detective.” I greeted him while giving strict instructions to my heart.
What had I ever seen in this man? Oh yea, the big brown eyes. They watched me with expectation, but I was not going to fall for him again. Well sure I would fall for him, but not act on it. I would try my best not to act on it. Please. When would it be my turn to be in love? The kind where the guy brings me flowers and wants to see me every weekend?
After a few uncomfortable heartbeats he started the conversation. “The City Department on Aging made a complaint to the police that you kidnapped Dorothy Daisy.” His voice was soft and smooth, with little to no accusation.
“What?” This just kept getting worse.
“She went missing from the nursing home this morning and they said you have been calling the facility every few hours.”
“No.”
“No?” He asked politely.
“No, I have not called every few hours. And calling isn’t illegal is it?”
“No.” He seemed to change his tone. “Fiona, I don’t want to get stuck in your confidentiality rules.”
I stared at him, he knew better.
“Why were you calling her?”
“She’s my client.”
“Does she have family?” He asked.
“She is my client and entitled to confidentiality.”
“You didn’t take her did you?” He asked gently.
“Of course not.” The idea hadn’t occurred to me. My apartment was too small. My Aunt, however, had room for a guest. And she was generous. A good, if late idea.
“Do you know who would?” He asked.
“No,” I answered quickly before considering Emma and Martha. They were pretty interested in Dorothy.
He stared at me as though it would make me confess.
When my phone rang, I turned the sound off on the answering machine and returned to our conversation.
“David, how can an ambulance just pick someone up off the street without an emergency?”
“I’m on a different end of this matter,” he explained unconvincingly.
“Are you telling me what was done was legal and not criminal?” I asked.
While I waited for an answer that wasn’t coming, I wondered whether Emma or Martha would kidnap her. Did they blindfold her? Drive her around in the car trunk? Hold her in an abandoned warehouse? They seemed like busybodies more than felons.
“So what’s the rest of it?” I asked quietly.
“Well, it’s quite a story.” David started. “The front desk clerk at the nursing facility said a nun came to see her.”
“Her meaning Dorothy?”
“Yes. Then someone was passing out cigarettes to the people in the lobby, to guests and patients.”
It was not possible to not laugh.
“This is pretty serious, Ms. Gavelle.”
It was funny. Secretly I think it amused him too. Kidnapping aside of course.
“So,” he continued with a lilt in his voice. “The security guard told the smokers they couldn’t smoke inside the building.”
“I don’t think Dorothy smokes,” I mused, wondering if nuns were allowed to smoke. It would be a bad habit.
“I don’t know, but the desk clerk said people were hollering, smoke detectors were triggered and more people were lighting cigarettes and a few patients went out the front door. A nurse said she saw a woman wearing a robe and house slippers get into a cab with a nun.”
“And you think it was Dorothy?”
“We don’t know. We know she is missing.”
“And I suppose you called the cab company?”
“Oh yes, Ms. Gavelle, the cab dropped two women, one in a robe and the other in nun’s habit at the Palmer House.”
“She’s staying at the Palmer House?” I asked, withholding all of my comments about calling the church or at least the Cardinal.
“No, we don’t think so. No one checked in under her name. And a nun didn’t check in. A few people saw a nun and a lady in her robe walk through the lobby.“
“Where did they go? Out to Wabash Street?” The hotel is enormous and has at least two entrances on different streets. I’ve cut through the lobby to stay out of the elements.
“Fiona, please tell me again you are not involved.” The little veins on his temple were pulsating but his eyes had an amused look.
“She’s my client, I talked to her two days ago, but no, I didn’t take her anywhere.”
“This is serious Fiona.”
“I agree but for entirely different reasons, detective.”
Before thinking too much, I asked. “What did she do?”
“She was picked up for observation.” He said without any emotion or conviction.
“How is that allowed?”
He sat quietly, with a red face. Finally he said, “There are a lot of things I can’t discuss Ms. Gavelle.” He seemed sad. I missed him all of a sudden while he put on his coat, I almost asked him to stay.
Apparently if the city wanted to pick someone up they could. He seemed to believe that I didn’t have Dorothy hidden or know where she was. When he left, I exhaled big time.
A business card was on the floor, Kimberly Face, Mental Health Law. I put it in my card file.
It was a while before I was able to turn off the memories and make a few calls.
Chapter Ten
I returned Emma’s call first. “Emma, is your cousin a nun?”
“First I have to tell you that Dorothy is talking.”
“Great, what about?”
“Well she thinks someone is trying to kill her.“
“Did you go to see her?”
“No, I wasn’t able to go to the nursing home because my cousin was coming in from Colorado yesterday.”
“Your cousin the Nun?”
“Yes. We would like to get her to her own doctor if we could find her name.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“She is in and out of it, kind of sleeping off the drugs. It sounds like Dr. Giggle when I asked her the doctor’s name. She doesn’t have her purse and we can’t get into the house without the keys.”
“How did she get to the doctor’s office before this fiasco?”
“Well you know how independent Dorothy is, she took three buses to get there. Sometimes it would take most of the day, but when I offered her a ride she refused.”
“Could you take her to an emergency room to get checked out? What if she is really sick?” I realized that she must have Dorothy at her house.
“She was fine there was no reason for her to go the hospital. There was no reason for an ambulance. Anyway, when the drugs wear off I don’t know if she will want to go. She cried when she got here she was so happy.”
My stomach lurched, was this how my career would end? Accused of trying to steal a house from a senior and then being an accessory to a kidnapping with a nun?
Why would a nun get involved? Were they so compassionate, or was she elected as least likely to get arrested? Was that kidnapping? It didn’t sound like she used force. I knew some rules about leaving a hospital without the doctor’s permission. Your insurance may not have to pay the bill if that happens. But I didn’t know the rules about leaving a nursing home.
“Hello Judge.” I said sweetly. It was 8PM, maybe a wee bit late to call just to say hello. But probably not too late to say please save me I think I did something stupid.
“Are you in the middle of this Fiona?” His voice was not sweet.
“No. Yes, well here is my problem.”
“You mean a hypothetical problem?”
Lawyers live by all sorts of rules, many of which I don’t understand so far. The rules were probably written to protect our clients, but now I’m not sure they do.
When we want a second opinion on a matter, we are required to pose the question in the form of a hypothetical fact pattern. This allegedly keeps the confidentiality issue intact.
“Sure.” Why do we have to play these games? Would he hang me out to dry? Would he help me?
Slowly, I explained, framing hypothetical questions. The line was quiet for a long time.
“Hello? Are you still there judge?”
“I’m here. I will not tell you that I received a call from my internist, Dr. Urgle, U R G L E, from Milwaukee Avenue in Chicago, who said he got a call from the police that his patient was kidnapped.”
“How would the police know the name of her doctor? Hypothetically?” I asked.
“That’s a good question. Doctor feels he is protected under the umbrella of patient confidentiality. Of course the police will try to bully him so I gave him the name of a lawyer. To add to the mess, he doesn’t know where she is either.”
“Why do they want her?”
“I don’t know, but once you get caught in the system, it can be ugly. You will see how disappointing it is. Not all the time, but sometimes it can be terrible. But you have a career and a license to protect. My advice to you is to stay out of it.”
I couldn’t stay out of it. Dorothy Daisy, relied on me.
Chapter Eleven
Emma called early the next morning. “Oh Fiona, I have good news, Dorothy ate breakfast and smiled and talked a little. She asked if someone checked her flowers. She knows who we are and that she’s safe with us. She cried she was so happy to see me.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“No, well yes but not now. She’s napping.”
I gave her the name of the doctor. She didn’t ask where I found it.
My day was spent making mistakes, one after the other. Every letter had the wrong date, a misspelled name or had incomplete sentences. When I fixed one error, I made two others.
David called for an update and I told him I didn’t know where she was. Emma didn’t say Dorothy was at her house. The police couldn’t search the whole neighborhood. I prayed they would convince her to see her own doctor.
Chapter Twelve
“Hello Fiona?”
“Dorothy?”
“Yes, I wanted to see how you are dear?” She asked.
It made me laugh. “Dorothy, you have been in the hospital and a nursing home under mysterious circumstances and I’ve been worried about you, not the other way around. How do you feel?”
“I’m okay, I’m a little groggy. The doctor was here you know.” She laughed lightly.
“Dr. Urgle?”
“Yes. He’s my internist. I have been going to him for years. My whole family went to him at one time.”
“He was there today at Emma’s house?” I asked.
“Yes he was here today very early. But I’m not supposed to tell you. And I’m not supposed to tell you I’m at Emma’s. I’m going somewhere else later on.”
“Dorothy, what day is it today?”
“That’s hard to say. It could be Wednesday, I’ll ask Emma.”
I heard muffled yells back and forth before Dorothy came back to the phone.
“Fiona it’s Friday. I seem to have lost a part of the week. What happened to me?”
“I’m not sure what happened. We signed your trust on Saturday. Do you remember that?”
“Sure we signed a lot of papers on my mother’s bread board and my tenants signed too. You promised to make copies and bring my final bill. Did I miss our appointment? We usually meet on Thursdays.”
“On Monday, this week, you called me about a social worker. Does that ring a bell?”
“That’s right, it was that meddling woman from the city ringing my door bell. Do you know her?”
“No I don’t know her. Do you remember calling me asking for help?”
“I called you because she said you were trying to take my house away from me. She is a bully. I told her I wasn’t interested in her pitch but she refused to leave.”
“Do you remember what happened after you called me?” I asked.
“I went to the hospital in an ambulance. It was a free check-up. But later I thought it was the government taking over my money and my house, my house! What right did she have to do that to me a citizen?”
I waited for Dorothy to finish her rant.
“Were you sick when you went in the ambulance Dorothy?”
Before she answered, Emma came on the line. “Fiona the doctor was here, did she tell you?”
They seemed to be wrestling over the telephone, their voices were muffled and then, click.
When the phone rang again, I answered, “Hello Dorothy.”
“No,” an icy voice came across the line. “This is Martha and Dorothy doesn’t want to talk to you. She said that you told her not to make a will but a trust because a trust costs more. She said you never gave her copies after she paid you over a thousand dollars.”
“Martha, is Dorothy there at your house?”
“At my house? No, she is not. When can I expect the papers you made for her? She said I can have the original papers.”
“Let me speak to Dorothy.”
Martha hung up.
Here is the lawyer side. Dorothy is my client and Martha is not. Although I don’t know which one, the rules prohibit me from taking instructions from a third person. That’s where this odyssey started.
I needed to talk to Dorothy alone. First it would be good to find out where she was hiding.
Chapter Thirteen
When I made it to the office on Monday morning, I found several messages from Dorothy. She called on Saturday night at eight PM, nine PM and ten PM. She sounded like herself and for that I was truly happy. The timing of the calls worried me big time.
Now that we had contact again, I had to find a way to meet with her alone.
The day got worse when the mail came and I got two creepy letters. One was from Judge D. Wizard, the head of the probate department and the other was from the disciplinary commission.
I wish I drank whiskey and kept a bottle in my desk at the office. Were
bars in the Chicago loop open this early? I couldn’t think of one liquor store around the office.
After looking at both envelopes for a very long time, I could not bring myself to open either one. They could only contain bad news. After an hour of unsuccessfully trying to do other work, I took two aspirin and opened the envelope from Judge Wizard. It was a one sentence letter:
Dear Counsel: Please be in my courtroom room 1832 at 2PM Thursday, June, 23rd with your client, Ms. Dorothy Daisy.
I had three days to make a plan and figure out what was happening to Dorothy. Did I want to represent her? Did she want me to represent her? She did call me for help when the social worker was pressuring her. What kind of trouble was Dorothy in? What kind of trouble was I in? Should I bring a lawyer? How did the probate court factor into this mess? It took me hours to realize Judge Curie could be involved. Otherwise how would they know I represent Dorothy?
After I almost fainted from deep breathing, I opened the second letter, from the licensing division. It was just a few sentences, the gist of it was that an allegation was made that I kidnapped Dorothy Daisy from the Last Acres Retirement Home where she was under a court order. They would appreciate the courtesy of a response within fourteen days.
Maybe they thought I would write back an admission? Even a C minus student would not make that mistake. Dorothy hired me to make her estate plan. Was this considered a related matter? If they could wait fourteen days, this wasn’t an emergency.
Briefly the advice from Judge Curie, to stay out of it, played back in my memory. But, I kept going because I was convinced her rights were being abused and she needed my help.
Returning to the other calamity, why did Judge Wizard want to see Dorothy? She handled decedent’s estates. I could not remember when the last brother or sister died. Could this be about one of their estates?”
Unsure of where to start, I called the Center for Constitutional Rights. My questions were phrased hypothetically. They said they would be interested in talking to Dorothy. They asked about the court order. I promised to get back to them, no court order was enclosed in the envelope from the disciplinary group.
