Imperfect Defense

by Gregg E. Brickman

  "Who?"

  "Sophia, this is Ralph Hoffman."

  "How are you? I've been thinking about you."

  "I'm doing well. Going to rehab in an hour or so, as soon as I finish my dinner." Ralph's voice sounded forceful and energetic.

  "That's wonderful."

  "I think Melinda and Franco agree it's the best thing. I won't go back to the house—ever, I hope."

  "Sounds drastic."

  "No." His voice cracked. "I told Melinda to ask you to visit me there. But I have no real faith she will follow through. Even though she's behaving, she's still mighty angry with you."

  "I suppose I understand."

  "Neither one of them will visit me at the place tonight. Franco has a board meeting of some kind, and Melinda has a class."

  Sophia thought about it, then decided she'd already made the decision to support Ralph. "You'll be settled by six-thirty or so. I'll come then. We can visit a bit. Is there anything I can bring for you?"

  "No, dear. Your coming is already a present."

  They said their good-byes.

  Sophia hadn't made plans for the remainder of the day beyond cooking dinner. She shifted Roxy off her lap and onto the sofa, got up, and went into the kitchen.

  She made the salad and put it in the fridge without the tomatoes, which she'd add when she served it. Next, she scrubbed hearty-sized potatoes, ran them through with a potato skewer, and put them in the oven, setting the timer for eight-thirty. Last, she prepped a bunch of broccoli and set it in the steamer basket. She'd stop at the grocery on the way home from the rehab center and buy a rotisserie chicken.

  It was time to get moving. She grabbed her purse, dropped the Sig inside, went to the car in the garage, and backed out of the driveway.

  A black Camaro idled in front of the house across the street. Similar car, Sophia thought, and its presence was eerie and worrisome. Without turning her head to stare, she tried to identify the driver. It could be anyone, she thought. Maybe a friend of the young lady who lived with her parents in that house. Still, she felt on edge. She patted her trusty weapon and turned the other way.

  As she drove, she called Ray, said she was going to run errands and go shopping, and filled him in on the dinner plans and the black car.

  "Saved the best for last, huh?" His deep voice growled.

  "It's probably nothing."

  "Do you have your Sig with you?"

  "I do. I promised. I will—all of those things."

  "Okay, baby. I'll be home by seven-thirty at the latest. Plan things so you get home after then, but call me first to be sure I didn't get delayed."

  Ray's comments concerned her more than all of the other events combined. He wasn't a worrier by nature, more a grab-the-critter-by-the-neck kinda guy.

  When she stopped at the first light, she checked the rearview mirror and saw a black car exit the neighborhood and turn north. She checked the Sig once more, made sure the safety was on, and said a silent prayer for herself.

  Sophia was familiar with the facility where Ralph went for rehab, having visited a favored patient or two and worked some shifts there with a per diem nursing agency. She parked, then took a moment to decide to take the Sig inside, knowing there was no metal detector and no search. Then she walked in like she belonged, nodded to the receptionist and guard, and headed to the elevator. All the sicker patients were housed on the second floor.

  An acquaintance in the nursing station directed her to Ralph's nearby private room. She tapped on the open door and went in when he responded.

  Sophia pulled a chair near his bed, and they held hands in a grandfather-granddaughter manner.

  "How was your ride over?" she said.

  "Oh, I don't know. I'm waiting for the ambulance now to move me to the new place."

  "You're already in the new place, Ralph. You've been here an hour or so."

  "If you say so. I don't remember."

  Ralph was somewhat confused, and it concerned her. They talked awhile longer, and she was convinced he knew who he was. He also knew the year and the president's name. All good things. She suspected his confusion about where he was would clear over the next couple of days, but she couldn't be sure. "Why did you want to see me? It sounded urgent."

  "I needed to tell you some things in private."

  "What's happening?"

  "One of the things about being partially deaf and wholly blind is people, even family, assume I'm deaf, blind, and stupid."

  Sophia laughed. "I'd never make that assumption. Go on."

  "Gabe, my grandson."

  She waited.

  "He came to my room in the hospital to visit. Then Melinda arrived. They thought I was asleep. Melinda told Gabe something about you filing the report with the state.

  "Gabe got very mad. Raised his voice. Melinda told him she filed a complaint against you, and that would be payback enough. I didn't hear everything, but Gabe's behavior got worse. Then he talked about financial troubles at the office. Said his father blamed him and Rodney Dyer for all the grief. He slammed out. Told his mother he was getting something for his nerves. Damn kid."

  "What does he use to calm his nerves?"

  "Booze. Drugs—street drugs of some sort. I know he smokes pot. I can smell it upstairs in the house. That isn't a big deal, but I think he was talking about something stronger. Melinda ran after him. When she came back, she was crying."

  "I had no idea."

  "There is something else." Ralph wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

  "What?" Sophia patted his hand.

  "It was Gabe who pushed me down the stairs, I think. He was also right there when Lorraine fell. He'd been drinking. Several times he whacked her in her shoulders, but this time, I think he pushed her. I heard him say, 'Bye, Grandma, have a nice trip.' Then he laughed."

  CHAPTER 30

  Sophia

  On Tuesday evening, Sophia didn't burden Ray with her worries about Ralph. His mental status would be an issue, and Ray was unlikely to believe the relevance of comments made by a confused old man. She needed more information, something that would support Ralph's story, even if he were a little befuddled. So, the next morning she headed into the hospital, intent on researching Lorraine's death.

  Nancy called Sophia into the office right after morning report. "Sit down."

  Nancy's perplexed expression was unique. Sophia had witnessed a variety of looks on Nancy's managerial face over the years—anger, worry, joy, relief, but never perplexed. Feeling wary of what was coming, Sophia sat. "What's up?"

  "That's what I need to ask you. More to the point, what in the hell were you doing?"

  "Nancy, give me a clue here. I wasn't even on the premises yesterday. Day off. Go to lawyer. And so forth."

  "Melinda was here. She's locked and loaded. You're her target. You went to talk to her dad in rehab? Why would you do that? Please tell me I'm misinformed."

  Sophia wondered for a minute if Melinda was telling on her as if Nancy was Sophia's mother. That wasn't the case, Sophia fumed. Nancy was Sophia's boss, only a boss, and Sophia didn't much like her outside of that role. "I went to see Ralph because he called me."

  "How so? Melinda told me her dad wanted to see you, and she said no."

  "Ralph is an adult, and to my knowledge, he hasn't been relieved of his rights by a court ordered guardianship."

  Nancy frowned.

  Sophia continued. "My cell phone rang, someone put him on the line, and he invited me to visit him." She shifted in her chair. "I found him to be alert, oriented to time and person, but a little confused about where he was."

  "Melinda said he was confused, which makes your going around her wishes worse."

  "Come on, Nancy. He's old. He's been shifted around. When he called me, he knew he was moving to rehab and knew which one. Two hours later, his brain hadn't caught up with his body yet. It will."

  "Well, if you have a brain yourself, you'll stay away. She says you're staying involved with her father to embarrass
her, to cause public humiliation, and to show that you're smarter than she is. Besides her husband is on the board, for heaven's sake." Nancy sounded emphatic.

  "I think your friend Melinda is the one who's confused and disoriented." Angry, Sophia stood. "I appreciate the information and the support. Truthfully, what I do in my free time isn't the business of the hospital. Melinda is already after my license, and I'm sure, if it comes to a hearing, you'll be called to testify to your conversations with her. On the surface at least, it appears she is working to discredit and embarrass me, cause me public humiliation, and show she's more powerful than I am. I, on the other hand, did not allow my elders to be abused in my home and then go to great lengths to cover it up." Sophia was so pissed she didn't consider the consequences of her outburst.

  "Are you finished?"

  "Yes. I have work to do." Sophia stood and left, hurrying to her first room and waiting patient.

  Throughout the morning, she expected to be summoned back to the office and fired. She knew she could contest the action, and eventually, Nancy would have to back down. If nothing else, Sophia's lawyer would help with that. It wasn't how she'd planned to spend her savings, but she would if necessary.

  When Sophia had time to escape for lunch, she called Connie in pediatrics. Though her unit was quiet, she was in charge and couldn't leave. Sophia hurried to the cafeteria, bought a tossed salad and turkey sandwich combo, and took the stairs to the pediatric unit. Connie told the licensed practical nurse and unit clerk she'd be in the staff lounge. Sophia preceded Connie into the small room and grinned when she pulled the door almost closed.

  "You're big news again," Connie said as she retrieved her lunch from the refrigerator.

  "Why is that?"

  "Melinda has been making her rounds to all of her friends and telling them about the mortal insult you hurled her way."

  "Good grief. I didn't even say her name in public, much less talk about what a crazy, obsessive bitch she is."

  "And that's why I closed the door. You need to keep your opinions to yourself unless you're in your own home."

  Sophia rolled her eyes.

  "Save that for Ray." Connie unwrapped a smashed sandwich and took a bite. "Tell me what happened yesterday at the rehab center."

  Sophia did. Stopping at intervals to eat, but not taste, her meal. "I'm going to go to medical records and have a look at Lorraine's chart."

  "You don't need to go to the department for that. It's less than a year old and is probably still active in the computer. Hang on a minute." Connie left the lounge and returned with a laptop, which was routinely used for medication administration and charting. "I'm already signed in."

  She brought up Lorraine Hoffman's record, and together they went through every page.

  "There's lots of evidence of injury here." Sophia tapped the screen to highlight the specific exam results. "These injuries don't happen from a routine Alzheimer's patient's trip and fall."

  "You could be right. What are you going to do about it?"

  "Don't know. Start by telling Ray."

  "Didn't you tell him about your conversation with Ralph already?"

  "No. I think I have to bring more proof, not just the ramblings of an old man whose daughter accuses of being senile."

  "I'm going to the printer." Connie stood. "If something should happen to print, I'll bring it back in here." She left.

  Sophia clicked and printed all of the exam results, associated physician comments, and nurses' notes detailing the injuries from the fatal tumble down the stairs. A few minutes later, she headed back to the ED with the pages folded and stashed in the big leg pockets on her cargo pants.

  ***

  When Ray came home for the evening, Sophia left Lorraine's medical information spread on the dining room table and hurried to the door to greet him. "Sweetheart, I'm glad you're home."

  He kissed her. "What's on your mind? It's in your eyes."

  "Get a shower, I'll get you a beer, then I'll tell you all about it." While he showered, she opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio and poured a glass. Then she set his beer next to a frosted mug and added a plate of cheese, crackers, and grapes to the center of the table. She sipped wine and reviewed her approach.

  Ray returned. His hair was wet, his face shaved and smooth, and his oldest jeans—her favorites—hung on his hips. His T-shirt was too short, and a strip of skin appeared when he walked.

  "I need to tell you about what I found."

  "Poking around again?" He sat at the table, opened his beer, and poured it into the frosted mug.

  "Yeah. But not in a way to get me in trouble." She picked up her wine and sipped while collecting her thoughts. Then she munched a bite of cheese and a grape. "I went to see Ralph yesterday at the rehab center."

  "Didn't this conversation start with not getting in trouble?"

  "Ralph invited me. He told his family he wanted me to come, but they refused. When Connie went to see him before he was transferred, he had her place the call."

  "And you neglected to tell me." Ray exhaled with force.

  She could hear the frustration. "I knew you'd object."

  He waved his hand in front of his face as if brushing away an annoying fly. "The problem is when the Silebi family learns you circumvented them yet again, they will be pissed. With good cause."

  "They know and are angry. But Ralph has a right to invite people to visit him." She repeated the same speech she'd laid on Nancy earlier in the day about Ralph being able to consent.

  He shook his head. "So what did he tell you?"

  "Ralph suggested that his grandson Gabe might have pushed Lorraine down the stairs." Sophia repeated the rest of the conversation, while Ray sat with his cop face and sipped his beer. "The thing is, Ralph is a little confused."

  "So what you're telling me is you talked to a confused eighty-something-year-old and went on a mission because you believed him. Sophia, you know better."

  "It is perfectly understandable the old guy would be befuddled about where he was. Within the last week or so, he had a major fall—by the way, his grandson was there and may very well have pushed him—he broke a hip, had surgery, was in two different rooms at the hospital, and yesterday was transferred again. And, he's blind. Give him a break. He knew the year, the president's name, and who he was. Rock solid." She glared at him, then went on to repeat the conversation between Melinda and Gabe, ending with how Gabe left to get something to relax.

  "So you're telling me Gabe drinks and supplements with drugs."

  "Ralph said."

  Another forceful exhalation.

  "Drink your beer. There is more." She arranged her borrowed chart documents in a logical order and went through them one at a time, explaining the nature of Lorraine's injuries and the findings on the films from previous admissions as well. "There is no record the attending physician, Dr. Bhaduri, saw Lorraine after her admission, but she signed off on the death certificate anyway."

  "And even though it was a traumatic death, the ME didn't take the case?" Ray said.

  "The way it works is when there is a death in the hospital that falls into the categories reportable to the ME—which this was—the physician or the nurse calls the ME's office to report it. One of the standard questions is if the attending physician will be signing the death certificate. When you add up advanced age, Alzheimer's, history of falling, and a signed certificate, it's unusual for the ME to want to examine the body. That's what happened here, I think. The ME can't take every case."

  "I know that," he said, anger and frustration coating every word.

  "That's one of the reasons elder abuse is so rampant. Doctors signing off without checking, and an overtaxed system."

  "You're lecturing me again," he said.

  "Sorry," she said.

  "You know I can't use any information I get from these records. You acquired them without justification or authorization."

  "I know that." This time she matched his anger and frustration. "I wanted to ge
t a spark of interest from you. Then maybe you can interview Ralph—he'll be over his temporary location issues, I'm sure. You can open a case if you think there's merit. But, okay. I guess not."

  Ray emptied his beer and got up to get another. He took his time opening it, selected some munchies from the plate, then ate a few bites. "What's for dinner?"

  "I have some burgers we can drop on the grill. Salad. Oven-fried potatoes."

  "Good enough." He sipped. "While you were poking around acquiring information illegally, Garcia summoned me into the office. Your friend, Dr. Bhaduri, had second thoughts about that death certificate. She reviewed the medical record as well—she, by the way, had the right—and came to the same conclusion you did. Even though it has been several months, the state came down on her side and raised the possibility of Lorraine Hoffman's death being abuse related. Translates to a homicide if it was."

  "Very interesting." Sophia was shocked by the sudden turn of events, but pleased as well. The system worked. The other thing was it added validity to her actions and would be a good defense at a board hearing or in a civil suit—heaven forbid.

  "I believe your suspicious, dogmatic hold on this likely influenced the good doctor to reconsider her actions."

  "She really is a good doctor. After the issue with Ralph, I think she would have gotten to that point even without me being a pain in her ass."

  "Perhaps. Anyway, I caught the case—because of the tie to the Silebi family. Today I interviewed the doctor. Ralph signed the consent to exhume the body, and the family has not objected—yet. "

  "What I don't get is why you let me go through the whole story before telling me?"

  "Sweetie pie, you were so prepared, so ready. How could I refuse?"

  "You looked angry."

  "Annoyed at you putting yourself at risk—again." He picked up his beer and stood. "Let's cook. I'm hungry."

  CHAPTER 31

  Ray

  Ray started his Thursday workday with a telephone call to the medical examiner. "Dr. Kasper, this is Ray Stone."