Imperfect Defense

by Gregg E. Brickman

  "How much money did she have? Total? Do you know?"

  "She'd accumulated well over four million dollars after the house in Jersey sold."

  CHAPTER 9

  Sophia

  Roxy ran into the backyard for her morning outing while Sophia watched. Ray's request that she make the airport run with Branden had altered her intentions for her day off. She'd planned a leisurely morning walk through the neighborhood to gather information about Millie. Since Ray would be working all day, she figured an afternoon stroll would serve the purpose.

  Her emotions about Millie's death and Hoffman's abuse mingled. Arriving at a decision to worry about Millie today and Hoffman tomorrow, Sophia went into the bedroom to dress.

  A few minutes later, Ray dropped Branden off in front of the house.

  Branden loaded his bag into the MINI, then came inside to see the dog. "Roxy. Where are you girl?"

  Roxy crashed through the doggy door, running to greet him.

  He picked her up and whispered, "I'm going to miss you, but I'll be back, maybe in the fall."

  Sophia found the young man's tenderness endearing.

  Roxy rewarded his kind words with a sloppy kiss.

  "Go ahead and put her in the crate. We need to leave or you'll be late for the plane."

  Branden cuddled the dog an extra moment, put her on the floor, and fetched a treat. "Crate up, Roxy."

  The dog did as requested, then eased the treat from Braden's fingers.

  Branden followed Sophia to the garage and grinned when she handed him the keys. "Dad let me drive the S2000 this morning, too. This is cool. Now I can compare."

  "Be still my rolling eyes. Keep in mind there is no comparison, beyond they are both small, both have four wheels, and both have six speeds. You need a bit more time to put this one in motion, but it's responsive. Quite zoomable." She grinned.

  Branden laughed, eyed the picture on the gearshift for a second, backed out of the driveway, and headed down the street like an expert. He turned left to catch the Sawgrass Expressway. "Sophia, can I kick it down when we reach the highway ramp?"

  "Okay. Just don't go over the speed limit. Your father would blame me if you got a ticket, but I think he'd skin you first." She rolled her eyes.

  After he completed his seven-second acceleration to the speed limit, he settled into the middle lane. "Good zero-to-sixty. Why don't you and Dad live together?" His Southern accent sounded thick.

  "Quick change of topic, but it's a good question. Why are you asking?"

  "Seems to me he'd be happier. I would be, too. Dad is gone a lot, and you work a different schedule, so you're home some days anyway. If nothing else, I'd have the dog for company when I come to visit and I'm home alone."

  "I see your reasoning. I'd have to set aside my North Dakota prudishness."

  "Ah, come on. People live together all the time, even in the Midwest. Or they have a wedding." He raised his brows, looking like his dad.

  "I think we will, eventually. You do know we've had a lot of relationship issues in the past, don't you?"

  "Dad told me. Kerri Lynn, too." His frown extended from his eyes to his chin as he talked about his dad and sister. "I want normal. Seems as if I've never had normal. I want to know how it feels before I go away to college in the fall. Mom was a single parent and was gone a lot. Kerri Lynn was there for me, and so were my grandparents. It isn't like I was neglected or anything."

  It sounded sad coming from an almost-grown young man. "Branden, I can't promise. What I will do is talk to your father about it. Can I repeat what you said?"

  "I suppose so." He glanced at me for a minute. "You'd make a good step-mom."

  "Thank you for that." Sophia believed Ray and she had gotten past the early struggles with their relationship. She loved him and often contemplated a future together.

  They rode in silence awhile, then he talked about his vacation plans, which involved a lot of friends, fishing with his grandfather, chasing girls, eating his grandmother's cooking, and returning to Florida before college.

  "You have it all planned."

  "It's my last summer at home. Next fall, I'll probably be in college, unless I decide to go into the Army. The idea of enlisting and growing up fast appeals to me."

  "You would in the Army, that's for sure. What does your dad say about that?"

  "Says it's my decision. He didn't enlist because he already had a family, then he became a cop. I'd like to go into law enforcement, too. The military might be good preparation."

  He followed the airport signs to departures.

  "Pull into the garage, and I'll wait with you until it's time to go through security."

  "You don't need to do that."

  "I want to. Remember, if there is a problem after you reach the gate, you can call me, and I'll come right back."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  He was in Southern mode. His Tennessee manners reigned.

  ***

  Sophia arrived home at noon. It was too damn hot—almost ninety—to go exploring with the dog before late afternoon. Ray left a message that he'd be home by six. Sophia liked the sound of that. Home.

  After eating lunch, she puttered around with Saturday work before hitting the Internet. She needed to refresh her memory on the salient points of elder abuse. She'd done the continuing education course, but it had been a couple of years, so she wanted to see what, if anything, was new. She bookmarked the state's Department of Elder Affairs site on her browser, then put the hotline number into her address book. The number was easy to remember, but Sophia didn't want to be delayed should she decide to call about Ralph.

  She followed the many links and was surprised to find several pages on financial abuse. When she left the state's server and continued the search on Google, many sites warned seniors about the financial hazards and the number of predators in the community. Other sites seemed to be predatory, luring seniors to trust them. It provoked wondering.

  Millie was beaten, and Sophia had no reason to suspect a financial connection—other than the Internet articles. Given Millie's aggressive nature, Sophia thought Millie would have been savvy to the risks, but Sophia could have been wrong. She tried to think of who might know Millie well enough to have thoughts on the matter.

  At half-past four, Sophia checked the outside thermometer. It was all the way down to eighty-six. Shaking her head, she leashed up Roxy. "Let's go walk, girl." It wasn't going to be much cooler until the sun went down.

  Sophia crossed One-Eighteenth to the sidewalk on the east side of the street. The trees were bigger there and planted to the west of the walk. It felt cooler when she moved into the shade, however scanty. They stopped for a few moments while Roxy panted and Sophia surveyed the neighborhood.

  A couple of seniors sat on their porches, and Mr. Poser poked in his flowerbed while his wife stood close, a blank expression on her face. Sophia went there first.

  "Hey, Mr. Poser, mind if I sit a minute?"

  "Sophia, it would be my pleasure." He filled a four-inch flowerpot with water for her dog, rinsed his hands with the hose, then dried them on his pants. "Could I impose on you to stay long enough for me to run to Walgreens and pick up a prescription?"

  "I don't mind. Go ahead."

  "Millie used to help me some that way. Gosh, I miss her." His face turned red. "That came out wrong. Certainly, I miss her assistance. But I miss her, too."

  "I know how you feel. I wanted to talk to you about her."

  "You're messing around again. The last time you did that you got in all kinds of trouble."

  He had been a crime reporter before he retired, and Sophia presumed, was still connected to that grapevine in some respects.

  "You're right, I did. But I have to do something, maybe find a clue. Her death keeps playing on my mind. And Ray and his partner have so many cases." She patted the bench, and Mrs. Poser sat. It was all Sophia could do not to laugh at the way Mrs. Poser followed the command meant for the dog, who looked confused. Sophia pointed
to a spot near her feet and motioned for Roxy to lie down.

  "What do you want to know? I've already told everything to the police," Mr. Poser said.

  "Go to the store. Then, if you don't mind, we can talk a few minutes when you return."

  Mrs. Poser and Sophia watched him drive away. Mrs. Poser didn't carry on a conversation, in fact, Sophia had never heard her voice. Millie had described the woman as nonverbal. As Sophia thought about Millie and Ralph, she wondered how Mr. Poser handled the stress. He didn't appear to have a big support system.

  They sat quietly, Mrs. Poser with whatever inhabited her mind, and Sophia with thoughts of Millie.

  When Mr. Poser returned, Sophia was ready to talk. "I'm wondering, how do you manage your twenty-four-seven duties with your wife? It has to be very stressful."

  "That's not what I expected you to ask."

  "I suppose not." She gave him a five-second summary of Ralph's situation without names or identifying information. "I deal with families, similar to yours, who are having problems with care-giving. Maybe something you tell me will let me help another person. In any event, the patient yesterday causes me to question how people cope. I've never noticed anyone giving you a hand."

  "Debbie and I never had children, so we don't have that support. My brother and family are local. I take her to my brother's house Sunday mornings so I can go to church and once during the week for some shopping and alone time."

  "That helps?"

  "More than you know."

  "Do you ever use respite care?"

  "I have a time or two. Once so I could have a hernia repaired." He appeared thoughtful. "Another time to take a short trip to New York to see the sights. That wasn't good. I felt so guilty, I cut the trip short."

  "That's sad."

  "Not really. Debbie and I had a good life. This part, taking care, is what I meant when I said until death."

  Sophia thought his views honorable and his situation depressing. He said they had a good life—in the past tense.

  "Have you ever been so frustrated you felt the urge to become physical with her?"

  A wave of disgust swept across his face. "No, never. And, God willing, not ever." He frowned. "Sometimes it's harder than people think. She resists care, sometimes she's combative, and sometimes she's completely manageable. I try to go with the needs of the moment." He looked at Sophia. "What did you want to ask about Millie?"

  "Thanks for telling me about your situation. It makes it easier to understand some of what I'm dealing with." She paused. "Okay, then. I know Millie talked to you a lot. She told me you were a smart man, and you'd made some suggestions regarding her investments."

  "Not really," Poser said. "I told her that if she didn't like the fire burning her toes, she should step away. She got involved with a local agent—I checked on him with my sources, and he's legit—but she didn't agree with his recommendations. She didn't want to go back to her New Jersey rep, so I gave her the name of the man I use."

  "I wonder if she did anything with the information."

  "She was in the process when she died," Mr. Poser said.

  "I remember her telling me the agent turned her account over to his apprentice—that was how she put it. She hated dealing with the man. She described him as too young, too smart, and too pushy."

  Sophia laughed, the description was so typical of Millie.

  Poser smiled. "Sounds like Millie. That is also part of what she told me, but as I said, I don't think she had a chance to take any action."

  "Wonder if the young agent drove that late-model black Camaro I saw at her house every so often." She motioned to the curb in front of Millie's house.

  "Maybe. Don't know. I know what car you're talking about, but I never saw it come or go and can't tell you where the driver went after he or she parked."

  "Oh, definitely a he-car," Sophia said.

  Debbie stood and stumbled toward the house.

  "I'm sorry, I need to go in with her now." He took Debbie's arm and guided her toward the door. "Stop by again if you think of other things."

  Sophia looked up and down the street. The other seniors were no longer sitting outside. She decided it was time to welcome Ray home for the summer.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sophia

  Ray arrived at Sophia's house on Saturday evening with a modest collection of clothing to stock the closet in the den. She knew that over time the space would fill.

  "Welcome home." She stretched on tiptoes and gave him a big kiss, which he returned with enthusiasm even though his hands were full.

  They spent a quiet evening settling into the new living arrangement, then enjoying their sleeping arrangement. On Sunday morning, he ushered her out the door to work, then headed down the street with the dog. That was one big upside to his living with her, she thought, and at that moment, she didn't see any downsides.

  Sophia arrived a few minutes early at the hospital, grabbed a cup of muddy coffee in the staff lounge, made a fresh pot for the oncoming shift, then plopped into a chair. As she sipped, waiting for a better brew and playing with her iPhone, she decided she needed to start at the beginning with thoughts about Ralph Hoffman. She planned to use personal time during the day to that end.

  Three hours into the shift, she took a break and visited Ralph on the orthopedic unit, finding him in traction awaiting surgery. "Good morning, Ralph. I'm Sophia." She raised the volume of her voice a notch and lowered the pitch.

  He turned his head in the direction of her voice. "Hello, Sophia. I remember you from the emergency room. I was hoping for a visitor."

  If Sophia hadn't known otherwise, she would have believed he saw her. "Do I qualify?"

  "Certainly do. Tell me, why do they tie me to this traction gizmo and make me wait for surgery? Why not just do it today?"

  Since she agreed with him, she considered her response with care. "Technically speaking, I suppose, your case is urgent rather than emergent. That means you can wait a bit to accommodate staffing and scheduling."

  "The translation of that mumbo-jumbo is the doctor doesn't want to work today. Right? That's how it was when I was a practicing pharmacist, too."

  "I don't know for a fact, but it's a reasonable assumption." She thought Ralph didn't have a problem with thinking. True, she needed to raise her voice for him to hear, and he was blind. It was like a nursing instructor once told her—just because a man is deaf or blind, doesn't mean he's stupid.

  Sophia pulled up a chair and listened to Ralph reminisce, hoping to steer the conversation to his current living situation, and learning he was one of the first pharmacists to earn a Pharm.D.—a doctorate in pharmacy. He moved to Florida to take a job heading the pharmacy in the biggest hospital in Broward County, where he met and married a nurse.

  "How many children did you and Lorraine have?"

  "Just Melinda. She was the blessing of our lives together."

  "When did Lorraine get sick?"

  "My poor Lorraine. She started showing symptoms of Alzheimer's in her early fifties. She had to quit nursing. Broke her heart. Ten years later, I retired so I could stay home and look after her."

  "Why did you move in with Melinda and her husband?"

  "That was hard. Lorraine was getting worse, and my vision was failing at a faster pace. Melinda invited us to stay, and Franco agreed. We promised to move to a rest home if things became too difficult for them with us at the house."

  "Man, for my money, I'd have gone to a home. Not much of a welcome." She paused. "Ralph, I'm sorry. That was rude."

  "Not a problem. I wanted to go to one of those fancy retired-person residences, but my sweet Lorraine preferred to be near Melinda and our grandson, Gabe."

  She made a note on a scrap of paper. It was the first she'd heard of a grandson. "Oh, that's nice. How old is the boy?"

  "Boy?" Ralph's tone was scoffing. "He's a man. Twenty-five, even though he acts like a spoiled little brat. Works for his dad's investment business. Trying to learn the ropes. Hoping to
take over, I suppose."

  "Harsh words." Sophia had a passing thought. The two problems she was following had two things in common, a beaten or abused old person and a tie to investments. She shoved the notion aside as far-fetched and looking for relationships where there weren't any.

  "He turned into a harsh young man. His mother doesn't think so, but I do."

  "Did he ever touch you or Lorraine roughly? Give you a push? Whatever?"

  Ralph teared. "A time or two he shoved me to make me hurry. Young people don't understand how it is to age. He was just impatient with me for being slow."

  Sophia didn't know and couldn't imagine being physically rough with an elder for any reason. "Did his parents know about his behavior? Try to stop him?"

  "They didn't believe me when I told them. Said that since I couldn't see and Lorraine couldn't think clearly, our information was suspect. But, even though he is my grandson, I believe—" Ralph stopped as Melinda, dressed in lab coat over street clothes, stepped into the room.

  "Sophia Burgess, how dare you question my father." Her voice rang with anger.

  "Melinda, we were just chatting about Ralph's life."

  "Which is none of your business." Her face hardened. She glared at Sophia. "Get out of this room. Leave now. Do not come back. Hear me? Do. Not. Come. Back."

  She raised a hand in surrender while looking at Ralph, who seemed to shrink into the bedding. "Ralph, I enjoyed our conversation. Good luck with surgery. I'll be thinking about you tomorrow."

  She hurried from the room, feeling more rattled than angry and wondering how much of the conversation Melinda heard. By the time she reached the ED, she was pissed off and convinced the family had something to hide.

  She tagged Ray on his cell phone and told him about the exchange.

  He said, "You need to be careful. It looks like you waved a flag under the nose of a she-bitch with a powerful husband."

  "But why would she be so defensive if she isn't hiding something? She doesn't want Ralph talking about their family."