Imperfect Defense

by Gregg E. Brickman

  "And I love you."

  "Do you think most of our squabbling is behind us?"

  Sophia laughed. "Not hardly. But we handle it better. Not taking things personal—even when it feels that way."

  "I agree." Ray slipped his other hand under hers and enclosed it. "What would you think of Branden and me moving in with you? It's time. I want to be with you every day, not just when it's convenient."

  "It would be a big change for Branden," Sophia said.

  "I'll talk to him first—I mean he will only be home for part of the summer and then for breaks, so it won't affect him much. My son's life has been disrupted by poor parental decisions often enough. If he has concerns, we can keep on as we are for a while."

  "Branden wants to move in here." Sophia grinned, then took a bite of her bagel.

  "He does? He told you that? I'm surprised."

  "On the way to the airport. He said he wanted normal." She repeated the remainder of her conversation with the young man.

  "Have you changed your mind?" Ray said. Every time he'd brought it up, she'd expressed concerns about living in sin and having a teenager in the house, too. He didn't believe it mattered since Branden was almost grown.

  "I admit to being shocked when he told me people in the Midwest live together all the time, have sex and everything." She laughed. "Anyway, I've been thinking about it, deciding if it's okay." She sipped her coffee. "He'd be happier if he wasn't home alone so much, and he loves the dog. And besides that, I'd love to have you here with me all the time, and I like being with Branden, too."

  "You already know how I feel about it. Are you convincing yourself or me?"

  "Myself. And trying to decide how I'd tell my mother."

  "How about, 'Hey, Mom, Ray is moving in with me. We'll get married eventually. In fact, he says we can get married three days after I say I will.'" He stood. "Go get dressed so we can take a walk. We can continue this conversation later."

  ***

  The most important item on Ray's agenda after he got to the police department was to get a warrant for Dyer's personal financials. He put in a call to Lawrence Evans, the consulting forensic accountant, and asked him to come in for a meeting. Then he called John Jamison, the assistant state attorney assigned to the case, in hopes of putting together a request that would be approved without delay.

  While Ray was sure the state investigators would subpoena Dyer's records, he had a hunch Dyer was dirtier than only financial fraud. The problem was how to prove it, and then to determine if it gave him a motive for murder.

  Evans and Jamison arrived a few minutes before ten and stopped at Ray's desk.

  "Where do you want us?" Evans asked.

  "Conference room."

  ***

  Farber set up a computer and adjusted the projector. "I've got a rush job, but I can run back up if you need me." He slid the mouse around the computer's desktop, stopping on a grouping of icons. "Millie Peers was clever in her filing system. It's taking me some time to wade through the files and find things that are relevant. She created a series of misnamed folders, then files with odd names. So, I'm having to open and read. I put short cuts here for the items we've discussed so far."

  Jamison studied the screen. "Please tell me you didn't alter the victim's computer."

  "Of course not." Farber stiffened his bony frame as if deflecting the implied insult. "I cloned the hard drive and installed it on this machine. I'm using this to search the files. Made sure I didn't damage the original."

  "Good." Jamison visibly relaxed. "Let's get started." He glanced at Ray. "Where's your partner?"

  "Lewis is pursuing Silebi Mortgage and Investments and the various subsidiaries. He's trying to get a handle on the scope of the fraud and whether it is corporation-wide or isolated to the one office of South Florida Secure Financials. Is there anyone else, other than Dyer, who might be benefitting from the Ponzi scheme? We need to shake this loose before it goes cold."

  "I thought the state was handling it," Jamison said.

  "They will," Evans said. "I talked to them again this morning and tried to make a case for urgency."

  "Did you succeed?" Jamison said.

  "I think so. The Division of Insurance Fraud's chief said he'll assign agents today. I discussed what we uncovered and the possible relationship to the murder investigation. He thought the existing warrant would provide a ready platform for the state request for a broader scope, and they should be able to start working the case on Monday."

  Ray nodded. "I'm impressed. How did that happen so fast?"

  "They recently completed their work on another situation. Because of the murder, he agreed to move those agents here."

  "Don't get your hopes up. A DIF investigation takes time." Jamison tapped the table, making the point.

  "Not a problem," Ray said. "They are looking for fraud. We're looking for a killer. The mere fact that DIF initiates a case and makes their presence felt will intensify the stress. There is also the possibility they will come up with something that ties into the Peers murder."

  "It's worth a shot." Jamison extracted a file from his briefcase and opened it on the table. "Bring me up to date."

  "Evans, please summarize our conclusions about F. Fodrum Annuities, Inc. and the decisions that lead to the referral to DIF." Ray sat back to listen, glad for the opportunity to hear that aspect of the case reviewed again.

  When Evans finished, Jamison nodded, then ran his hand through his short blond hair. "Stone, I understand you linked up with the snitch."

  "I did. That's the reason for this meeting. It appears that Dyer is heavy into gambling debt here and maybe in Vegas as well. But, supposedly, he keeps up with his payments." Ray shrugged. "I need to poke around more and see if Dyer is a winner or loser overall. My snitch wasn't impressed with his expertise."

  "How are you going to do that?" Jamison said.

  "I'm going to the casino and watch him gamble. I also intend to talk to the dealer he favors. I might learn something."

  "Okay. Let's look at the flagged files." Jamison pointed at the video screen.

  Ray clicked the first icon. "This letter indicated that Peers was displeased with the service being provided. She said Dyer promised to handle her account and now she was dealing with someone else. She doesn't say who." He opened another file. "Here she demands contact information within the annuity company." He clicked again. "Dyer refused, saying the company preferred contact with the agents only. He attached a reformatted report on his letterhead and what he claimed was the original company report as well." Ray opened the next folder. "This is a letter from Millie continuing her protesting tone. Again she demands a contact with the annuity firm to verify her account balances as needed."

  Jamison leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face. His expression was thoughtful. "I think this might work. Evans, you'll be the one to execute the search. Correct?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Jamison continued, "I think we want to strengthen this with whatever you learn at the casino. We need to add the additional pieces."

  Ray stood, eyes on Jamison. "I'll get what I can this weekend, call you on Monday."

  "Fine."

  "Evans, can you be ready with this first thing Tuesday morning?"

  "I'll make it happen."

  CHAPTER 23

  Sophia

  Sophia would have preferred to be at work. Asking for overtime, even though it was almost always available, wasn't an option because Nancy wasn't about to extend herself for Sophia's convenience. The day stretched before her. She reflected on how nice it was to be at home, yet so uncomfortable and boring to have to be there.

  With Roxy on her lap, she sat on the sofa, raising the footrest of the recliner. She reached for the dog's comb and ran it through her short, smooth hair. She put up with it, expecting Sophia to bounce up and give her a reward treat. Sophia did, then made a cup of chamomile tea.

  Ray's proposal crept forward in her overstressed min
d. Her mother, given the opportunity, would get over the cohabitation with Ray. They'd spoken about it, and her mother's concern was Branden. Perhaps Sophia would just tell her the truth. Branden was Ray's responsibility. Her mother wanted her settled, married, and reproducing. Sophia sipped the soothing tea and admitted she wanted the same things. First, she and Ray needed to prove they could exist together for a long period of time without threatening to leave or kill each other. Given their ice-cream-flavored history—everything from butter pecan to rocky road— it would be a challenge.

  The thought stopped her. She'd made the decision. She had progressed to playing house in her mind, envisioning a happy little family of four—three people plus dog—living in one house. Their home.

  The phone interrupted her daydreaming.

  She pulled it out of her shorts pocket and saw the hospital number on screen. "Hello, this is Sophia." Sliding right into work mode.

  "This is Nancy. Can you stop by my office for a few minutes?"

  "When?"

  "As soon as you can."

  "I'll shower, put on a uniform, and be right over."

  "Don't bother with a uniform. I just need to talk to you."

  "Okay. An hour."

  They hung up.

  Sophia couldn't dispel the sinking feeling from her gut, then vowed to take whatever awaited her like an adult. Before heading to the shower, she texted Ray—being on good behavior—and told him she needed to go into the hospital. He responded by telling her he'd have a patrol car in the parking lot when she arrived. He also told her to get a security escort when she left the building to go home.

  It concerned her that he was so emphatic about her being at risk. What did he perceive in the crank calls that she didn't? Who really wanted to threaten her? The Silebi family had already undermined her credibility and maybe her job. It didn't seem necessary to also threaten her outside the hospital.

  When she was ready to leave, she checked the street for any strange people or cars, then backed out of the garage, lowering the door a second later. Once at the hospital, she waved to the officer and hotfooted it into the building.

  Nancy kept Sophia waiting a few minutes, then invited her in and offered a chair.

  "Am I here to be fired?" Sophia said.

  "No, what makes you think that?"

  "You said, 'Come here, come now, don't dress for work.'" Sophia struggled to keep a grimace off her face. "What was I supposed to think?"

  "Sophia, I'm sorry about that. Cynthia Nolan was standing here insisting I have this conversation with you in person."

  "Go ahead with it then."

  "The CEO told Nolan that Franco and Melinda Silebi reported you to the Board of Nursing." Nancy frowned, sadness covering her face.

  Sophia closed her eyes and shook her head. "Living proof that no professionally responsible deed goes unpunished."

  "Something like that."

  "What was the basis of the complaint?" Sophia said.

  "Unprofessional behavior and breach of confidentiality."

  "Bullshit."

  "Agreed." Nancy exhaled a deep breath she had apparently held in anticipation of an outburst.

  "Relax, Nancy. I promised myself to handle this—whatever it is. At least I have a job." Sophia rubbed the edge of Nancy's desk, burning nervous energy. "What now?"

  "We don't know if or when the board will investigate. Given who Silebi is, they'll have to do something. Cynthia thinks you need to have your own lawyer available if necessary. She gave me these names." Nancy handed Sophia a typewritten list. "They're the guys who help the docs with complaints."

  "What about the hospital?"

  "The hospital is on your side. However, Cynthia wants to make sure you're protected with your own counsel as well. The CEO is known for being supportive of the medical staff and the hospital board, not necessarily in that order. He'll support employees, too, but we're not at the top of his list."

  "So, he could change his tune at any moment?"

  "Yes. Get in contact with a lawyer so you're ready to go if needed."

  "Charming." Sophia stood. "See you tomorrow."

  "For sure. Remember to fly low and keep your exhaust fumes invisible."

  ***

  Sophia asked around to determine if anyone had seen Melinda or her husband in the hospital. When no one had, the telemetry unit was Sophia's next stop. She wanted to visit Ralph, check on his condition, and hear what, if anything, he might be willing to say.

  It was obvious the action would put her job in further jeopardy. But she had risked her professional reputation and job to try and save Ralph from the same fate as his wife—dying from a fall down the steps. Or, maybe, dying from a deliberate shove. Following up was the reasonable thing to do. Also, the visit would demonstrate sincere concern—or stupidity.

  On the unit, she stopped Janie, a very-pregnant friend, in the nursing station. "Have the Silebis been in today?"

  "They left an hour ago." She looked thoughtful. "Melinda said she'd be back around four. Oh, by the way, Ralph has been asking for you."

  "Good. Could you document that in your notes and say you called me?"

  "Sophia, I can't falsify the records." Janie paused. "All of a sudden, I have to go. You don't have to wait for me." She disappeared into the staff bathroom.

  Puzzled, Sophia shook her head, then her phone vibrated. "This is Sophia." She expected another hang up, but that wasn't the case.

  "This is Janie on four."

  "Yes?"

  "Ralph Hoffman asked for you to stop by." Sophia grinned, thanked her, and headed down the hall.

  Ralph sat rigidly upright in a chair designed for hip surgery patients. He turned his head toward the door when she tapped on the frame.

  "I'm Sophia Burgess, the nurse from the emergency department."

  He stuck his hand in her direction, offering it. "I'm glad you came. I've been asking for you, but my daughter never called you."

  "Understandable."

  "I asked the nurse a while ago, and here you are." He smiled.

  "Actually, I was on the unit, planning to sneak in, when she called me."

  He nodded, registering the message was received.

  "How are you feeling? I've been concerned, especially when I heard you were in ICU."

  "To tell you the truth, when I was there I was hoping to die. Perhaps hold my sweet Lorraine again. I have to imagine her mind would be clear. I mean, if there is a heaven."

  "I'd like to believe there is." Sophia patted his hand. "You said you hoped to die in ICU?"

  "Since Lorraine died, my life has been a grey blur. No demarcation between days and nights or days of the week. They bring me my meals to my bedroom upstairs. Sometimes Melinda sits with me for a bit, but never for long."

  "Does anyone else visit with you?"

  "Melinda sends Gabe to check on me—his room is on the same floor as mine."

  "How does that go?"

  "Fine, unless he wants me to go downstairs or hurry in the bathroom we share."

  "And does that work for you?" she said.

  "I'd rather he'd stay away, maybe get a girlfriend, get an apartment, be a man."

  She wanted to ask more, but feared her welcome would vanish.

  "Your doctor told me the state recommended you go to assisted living after rehab."

  He smiled for the first time. "Isn't it wonderful? I tried to tell Melinda that without Lorraine I was lonely and needed company. She said she'd spend more time with me and help me down the stairs so I could eat with the family. It never works. Something unpleasant always happens."

  "Why?"

  "When I'm at the meal, it takes me longer to eat because of my vision. If Gabe is home, he gets impatient, and Franco makes an issue of everyone staying at the table until the meal is over. I wish he'd just let Gabe leave when he's finished. The kid acts like a little boy, if you ask me."

  Sophia pressed on. "Is Melinda okay with you moving to assisted living?"

  "Yes. She's
visiting two centers today. Hopefully, she'll find one with other blind old folks, but if not, at least I'll be with people my own age and have someone to talk to."

  "Sounds perfect."

  "Thanks to you, I understand."

  "How so?"

  "Melinda says you reported them to the state."

  "She did?" Sophia paused. "Well, if a report was made and that's why the state was here, I'm happy for you."

  Ralph appeared to look into her eyes. "That's exactly what I meant."

  ***

  Following Ray's request—he'd be proud of her—Sophia asked security for an escort to the car.

  "What's up with this?" the security guard she'd known for a couple of years said. "I've offered to escort you many times, and you blew me off." He tapped the big stainless steel button controlling the exit door.

  "Ray thinks I've picked up a stalker. He's concerned. So I'll probably be bugging you now and then until we know for sure."

  "That's why we're here." He led the way to the employee parking lot.

  Sophia pointed to her MINI. "There's my car. Give me a minute to get in and lock up."

  "You're taking this serious."

  "Better red-faced than dead-faced." She laughed, then noticed a dark-colored car ease away from the lot. She hadn't noticed anyone else walking in their direction and wondered if someone had been sitting, waiting.

  After double-checking the lock, she headed home, taking a circuitous route, doubling back, stopping at Publix for a couple things, then checking the lot for dark waiting cars before leaving the store. She wasn't being followed. She thought her overactive imagination needed a break.

  Sophia verified her car doors were locked, scanned the parking lot once more, then headed home, again taking an indirect path. Scary thoughts aside, she felt the need to be prudent. So when she arrived on her cul-de-sac, she took note of the cars in the other driveways, waved to a couple of neighbors, then pulled into the garage and closed the door behind her before leaving the car.