"Sounds like it," Ray said, his tone speculative.
"You don't think I should call the state? Report my suspicion of abuse?"
"What I think is you should finish your shift and not rush into things. We'll talk later."
***
Ray called Sophia late in the afternoon to say he'd be home for dinner around seven. "Don't rush on my account when you get off."
Since the ED was quiet, she got to leave a couple hours early. She stopped on the way to the house for T-bones, huge baking potatoes, salad makings, and a bottle of French red wine of an unknown province. As she shopped, she reflected on their situation. She liked having Branden around, but also liked his visits to Tennessee. It gave Ray and her renewal and bonding time.
At about seven-thirty, the S2000 rumbled in the driveway. That was her cue to drop the steaks on the grill and hurry to the front door. The potatoes were almost done, the salad made, the wine open and breathing, and the candles lit.
When Ray entered the house, Sophia looked him over. He looked good, and it was obvious he'd stopped at the condo since he carried another bundle of clothing and had damp hair. He wore old, soft jeans that hung a bit low on his hips and a V-necked pullover, which she knew covered his Glock. He draped the clothes over the sofa back, grinned, grabbed her in a hug, and then ran his hands down her back and over her butt. "How about dessert first?"
"A wonderful plan, but it won't work. I put the steaks on the fire a couple minutes ago."
They kissed, then he allowed her to lead him to the patio, where the table was set for dinner.
Over the meal, she told Ray about her meeting with Ralph and repeated the part about Melinda's summary eviction. "I intend to visit him again, but I'll need to be careful about it."
"I recommend you don't do that. You're not assigned to the unit, and his daughter told you to stay away. You'll get your sweet little ass in a shit-load of trouble."
"I suppose." She gave his comment some thought and decided getting fired, though it would take them a while to work through the policies, wouldn't be the best choice. "Connie knows him. I'll have her stop by and visit. At least, she can tell him I'm thinking about him."
"Makes sense." He sipped his wine. "What else do you intend to do?"
"I'm not getting any support from my manager or from Dr. Kalet. Everyone seems to be stepping away because Franco Silebi is a local hot shot."
"And with good reason," Ray said. "That doesn't abrogate your ethical and legal responsibility to report abuse if you're concerned. I reread the statute this afternoon to refresh my memory on the details."
"I'll talk to Ralph's attending physician tomorrow if I get the chance. Maybe I'll learn something that will keep me out of trouble."
Ray set his wineglass on the table and took her hand. "Check around, but if you're convinced that Ralph was abused, and you can't get much more abusive than pushing a blind old man down the stairs, then you have a duty to report it. You won't be able to live with yourself if you don't. Besides, if he goes back to the same environment, next time he might come into the emergency room dead."
She nodded. "It's odd that you're telling me to get involved. Usually, you tell me to mind my own business."
"Sophie, this is your business."
She scooted from her chair to his lap, taking the wineglass with her, maneuvering with care not to disentangle their fingers. "Now, tell me about Millie's case. Then we can be done with work."
"That area is not your concern."
"But she was my friend. I found her. I want to know what's happening."
Ray let go of her hand and sipped his wine for a moment, then spent a few minutes talking about his investigation. He said the ME found evidence of previous fractures and there was a possibility of abuse. The son Wayne was a drunk, but was not known to be abusive. Millie's husband had been a bastard.
Sophia surmised she'd received the cleaned-up version, designed to discourage poking around.
He grinned. "Did you know your sweet friend was a biker babe in her youth?"
Sophia laughed. "That she never told me. I knew she'd had a wild time. She admitted to drugs and acting like a sixties' child." She thought a moment. "She did say she'd gotten a tatt to piss off her husband, wouldn't tell me what it was—or where for that matter, but said it worked just fine. Guess she fit the grandma with ink description better than I thought."
"It was Jesus on a Harley."
"What was?"
"The tattoo."
"Good grief." She laughed some more. It made sense. "I can see where it would piss off her over-the-edge, Bible-thumping husband. She said he preached at her and Wayne all the time. Went from being a sociable man to a real zealot. Do you know about the money?"
Ray sucked his cheeks in and pursed his lips, perhaps deciding what to reveal. "We found evidence that she was well set, despite living a modest lifestyle. In fact, we're looking at her accounts to see if there is anything there. Follow the money."
She considered mentioning that Millie was dissatisfied with her financial arrangements, then thought better of it. Ray had only moved in yesterday. Too soon for a huge Sophia-buttin'-into-my-case fight.
She continued with information gleaned from conversations with Millie. "The husband made a lot of money and put Millie through college all the way to her Masters in childhood education. To hear her tell it, that was his one positive action. She said he wouldn't let her use any of his money for her charitable causes and even resented her volunteer time. After he died, she became generous with her charity work. In fact, one day a handicapped child was selling candy for her school. Millie bought it all, then turned around and gave it to me to take to work for the staff." Sophia emptied her wineglass, refilled it, and poured more for Ray. "I'm assuming you connected with the son since you haven't said otherwise."
"I did, yesterday. He's a jerk, a drunk, and probably a bum. What he isn't is stupid. And I don't think he's a murderer. He'll stay on the suspect list until we've verified his rather convoluted alibi."
"How about the young men in the neighborhood?"
"I still need to track them down. From what we hear from the neighbors, everyone pretty much agrees with your opinion that they're harmless, at least close to home."
"Nice to know. Roxy and I like a couple of them."
Sophia asked a few more questions before Ray put a stop to the conversation with a tantalizing hint of dessert. She relaxed and enjoyed the sensations. Then they stacked the few dishes in the sink on their way to the bedroom.
CHAPTER 11
Sophia
When the alarm blew Sophia awake at five-thirty Monday morning, she wasn't surprised Ray was already up. The running water in the kitchen suggested he was making coffee. She smiled and crawled from under the covers. Roxy's kibble hit the bottom of her stainless steel bowl like a musical wakeup call. Sophia thought if she hurried, Ray would walk the dog with her before heading to work.
She showered, ran a brush through her hair, and slipped into the next pair of scrubs hanging in the closet, a blue-print top with happy little rainbows and fluffy clouds and solid blue pants. She clipped on identification and thanked the uniform gods that the hospital hadn't decided to force the nurses back into all white scrubs. True, white looked professional, but boring.
As Ray poured two steaming cups of coffee, she stepped into the kitchen.
"I heard you get up." He kissed her lightly, then held her close and did a better job. "Too bad we have to work."
"I say that every day, even without the promise of hot sex."
"Maybe later." He grinned, nuzzled her neck with his freshly shaved chin, then let her go. "I found bagels."
"Good. I hid them on the counter to give you something to look for this morning."
"Smart ass. Want one?"
"Sure." As she grabbed plates, cream cheese, and jam, Ray sliced and toasted the bagels. They perched on stools at the island in the kitchen. "What are you up to today?"
"Court this
morning at nine. Then I'll try to track down those neighborhood kids and pursue a couple other things. What about you? Have you decided about the abuse report?"
"I'm rotating into the main ED today. That's good because I can, maybe, talk to Hoffman's primary physician. Dr. Bhaduri parks close and always takes the shortest path into the hospital, which is right through our department."
"What's your approach going to be?"
"Sincere concern, which happens to be the truth. I don't know what Dr. Bhaduri's relationship is with Franco and Melinda Silebi, so I need to be careful." Sophia smeared cream cheese on a bagel, then added a layer of rhubarb jam. "This is strange," she said, speaking through a full mouth.
"What?"
She swallowed. "The rhubarb reminds me of North Dakota, but I'm here to tell you, we didn't eat bagels and cream cheese for breakfast—ever. In fact, I didn't eat a bagel until I visited Minneapolis as a teenager—though I suppose they were in the stores."
"It isn't biscuits and gravy either." He laughed.
Her thoughts returned to work. "Dr. Bhaduri's practice focuses on elder care. She once told me she has a stable patient base, solid referrals, and wasn't pursuing new patients as walk-ins, but she does take a few. She also said she tries to take all the Medicare plans people choose so they don't need a new doctor if they make changes." She sipped her coffee. "I hope that translates to Ralph being a long-termer and not brought into her practice because of his relatives." She pushed work away. "Let's talk about something else."
They chatted about everything and nothing special while finishing breakfast, took Roxy on a long walk, then parted ways.
Sophia managed to arrive at work at the stroke of seven, clocked in, threw her purse in her locker, and went to get a change of shift report. She lucked out—one patient waiting for tests, another waiting for a bed upstairs, and three empty stretchers. While she knew they wouldn't be unoccupied for long, it did give her time to talk if she caught Dr. Bhaduri.
A few minutes before eight, Dr. Bhaduri headed across the wide main ED corridor. Sophia excused herself from her patient and hurried after the doctor, a tiny woman with brown skin, long jet-black hair, and a pure white lab coat over a stylish charcoal dress. "Dr. Bhaduri."
"Oh, hello, Sophia."
"Do you have a minute?"
Dr. Bhaduri raised a perfectly-arched eyebrow, then glanced at her watch. "I suppose."
"I'd like to talk about Ralph Hoffman, please."
Sophia led the way to a vacant treatment room, and the doctor followed. "How long has he been your patient?"
Dr. Bhaduri ran her tongue between her lips, then pressed them together. "If I remember correctly, he and Lorraine came to my practice right after he retired. Why?"
"I have a concern, which I hope you'll keep confidential. I tried to talk to my boss and Dr. Kalet, but they're worried about the son-in-law. At least, it seems that way to me."
"Franco Silebi is a very powerful man, but he is not my issue. My patient is."
"Good to know." Sophia told Dr. Bhaduri about Ralph's admission interviews and how he agreed with Franco's version of his fall. "He allowed Franco to speak for him and didn't contribute or elaborate. For that matter, Ralph's daughter, Melinda, does the same thing. She defers to Franco for every answer. I wonder if all of Ralph's injuries are consistent with a fall. Some of his bruises are in odd places, like the back of his neck, for instance, and high on the underside of his upper arms—both upper arms."
Dr. Bhaduri's eyes widened.
"I went upstairs to visit him yesterday, and he had unpleasant things to say about his grandson." Sophia repeated the conversation. "I didn't get any more information because Melinda came in and ordered me to leave the room. But he appeared to be on the verge of telling me something important."
"Where are you headed with this?"
"It seems odd his wife died from a fall, and now he's in here for tumbling down the same steps. Appears to be neglect at best, maybe abuse. If I have cause to suspect abuse, I need to make a report. What do you think?"
"One of us needs to, I suppose. I hope I didn't miss an abuse issue with Lorraine. I signed her death certificate. She fell several times, which isn't unusual for an Alzheimer's patient." Dr. Bhaduri took out her smart phone and made entries. "I'm ordering an ophthalmology consult with Joel Nathan. I'll also order follow-up films and check for evidence of old fractures. Did you describe all of Hoffman's bruises in the ED record?"
"I did."
Dr. Bhaduri moved toward the door, and Sophia followed. She wanted to say that attending physicians automatically signing off when elders died was one of the reasons many cases of abuse were missed, but Sophia needed cooperation not defensiveness from the other woman. She took a breath and swallowed the comment, thinking that even she could learn to be politically correct—albeit with great difficulty. "We'll talk?"
"As soon as I know anything."
Two hours later, Dr. Bhaduri stopped by the ED as she left the hospital. Sophia was up to her tired tush in sutures, dressings, demanding physicians, and complaining patients at the time, but she followed the doctor into a quiet area anyway.
"Ralph's films show some evidence of old hairline fractures to the ribs and forearms." Dr. Bhaduri held up a finger, making a point. "But, there is no way to tell when they occurred or how. The forearms might have been injured defensively, but the attacker could have been Lorraine. She was very combative toward the end of her life."
Sophia felt discouraged. There was only a suggestion of abuse on the films, but Ralph's behavior, the unusual pattern of bruises, and the family issues told a clearer story. She wondered for a moment if Millie's abuse put unfounded ideas into her head, then shoved the notion aside. "When is Dr. Nathan seeing Ralph?"
"He said he'd go upstairs after he finished in the operating room. He'll stop by and talk to you."
Sophia bit her lip. "And?"
"I'm not comfortable making the abuse report based on supposition and limited documentation. If Dr. Nathan suspects abuse, then you can make the call. I'm okay with you using my name, but I want a defensible position when the powers in the administrative suite go looking for someone to blame."
CHAPTER 12
Ray
Ray watched as his captain, José Garcia, shifted his weight in the chair behind his desk in the police department, then ran his hand over his clipped-short hair. Stray bristles of gray protruded among the black, refusing to be tamed. He was a wiry man, on the short side for a police officer, which led new officers and suspects alike to underestimate his strength. Ray remembered working with Garcia before his promotion. The man never shied away from an encounter.
"Gentleman." Garcia scowled and leaned forward. "My understanding is you've made no real progress in identifying a prime suspect. Why is that? The homicide occurred last Wednesday. That's five days."
"With all due respect," Deg said, his face a blank mask, "the body was discovered on Thursday afternoon. We weren't able to talk to the son and the sister until Saturday."
"You mean Stone did. Where were you?"
"At my niece's wedding. Planned and approved last month."
Garcia's scowl deepened. "And you, Stone, you're planning on going to Tennessee."
"I cancelled the trip. Branden flew up Saturday."
"Good. I thought I was dealing with part-time detectives. Meanwhile, I'm getting heat from the mayor."
The comment puzzled Ray. "What's the mayor's interest? This case only got a minor mention in the media."
Garcia shuffled the stack of papers on his desk and picked up a note. "Clarence Poser, neighbor to the victim, uncle to the mayor, and former police beat reporter."
Deg glanced at Ray. "The guy never said."
"So, Poser talked to the mayor?" Ray shrugged.
Garcia's expression softened. "I think he mentioned the case in passing over a family dinner yesterday. Sparked the mayor's interest. Hence the phone call late last evening. What's next?"
"We'v
e got an appointment in thirty minutes with the principal at the elementary school. We found email correspondence between the victim and her sister indicating Tracey Ironmonger, the librarian, asked for donations rather often. It sounded like a forceful request. Maybe Ironmonger became one of the vic's crusades, and she stirred something up."
"Then?" Garcia said.
"We need to find the neighborhood boys," Ray said. "One is going out of his way to avoid us. I went by their apartment complex several times during the weekend, but couldn't find any of them."
"Lying low?"
Ray shrugged. "Perhaps. The manager told me most of them are still high school age and work some evenings and weekends. He didn't think any were problems, beyond the usual nonsense of teenagers. We're also trying to get a lead on the investment manager, Rodney Dyer. No one answered at his residence during the weekend and the office, South Florida Secure Financials, Inc., was closed."
"Get to it then." Garcia stood.
Ray and Deg retreated to their desks and divided the work. Ray headed to the school, and Deg went to locate Dyer and run down details on another case. They planned to reunite later at the apartment building where the boys lived.
***
Ray glanced at a text from Sophia saying the doctor ordered a consult for Ralph's eyes. It took him a moment to place the information, then he responded. "Good. Proceed with caution." He tapped in an emoticon of a heart to make her smile, then resumed waiting for his audience with the principal.
"Ms. Crouch can see you now." The receptionist sitting behind the counter in the school principal's suite stood and opened a swinging gate to the area behind the barrier. "First door on the left."
Ray followed her directions and entered a modestly furnished office. A sign on the desk read Kim Crouch, Principal. He approached the desk and extended his hand. "Detective Stone, Coral Bay PD."
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