“Had he been in prison?”
“I asked him about that once. He admitted he served time, but he wouldn’t say what for.” He hesitated, easing a sly peek at his watch. “I don’t mean to cut you short, miss, but I got a program about to come on and if I don’t get down there, the other fellows on the floor will be all over the set.”
“I think that about covers it. If you think of anything else, could you give me a call?” I found a business card in my bag and gave it to him.
“Sure thing.”
We shook hands. I slung my bag across one shoulder and moved to the door. He stepped ahead of me and opened it like a gent.
He said, “I’ll just follow you down the hall since I’m headed that way.”
We’d nearly reached the landing when he said, “If you want my opinion?”
I turned and looked at him.
“I’d bet you dollars to doughnuts, he didn’t leave town.”
“Why?”
“He had grandsons.”
“I heard he wasn’t allowed to see them.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t find a way.”
As it turned out, the investigator for the Tri-Counties Agency for the Prevention of Elder Abuse was the very same Nancy Sullivan I’d spoken to on the phone, which I learned when she appeared in my office on Friday afternoon. She must have been in her twenties, but she looked a scant fifteen. Her hair was shoulder-length and straight. She had a plain, earnest air about her, leaning forward slightly in her chair, feet together, while she explained what she’d learned in the course of her investigation. The jacket and midcalf skirt she wore looked like they’d been ordered from a travel clothing catalog, a wrinkle-free fabric you could wear for hours on a plane and later wash in a hotel sink. She wore sensible low-heeled shoes and opaque stockings through which I could see evidence of spider veins. At her age? That was troubling. I tried to picture her in a conversation with Solana Rojas, who was so much older, smarter, and wiser in the ways of the world. Solana was cunning. Nancy Sullivan seemed sincere, which is to say clueless. No contest.
After an exchange of pleasantries, she told me she was filling in for one of the investigators usually assigned to evaluate cases of suspected abuse. As she spoke, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. She went on to say she’d talked to her supervisor who’d asked her to do the preliminary interviews. Any follow-up queries deemed necessary would be referred back to one of the regular investigators.
So far it sounded reasonable, and I was politely nodding away like a bobble-head doggie on an auto dashboard. Then, as though by extrasensory perception, I started hearing sentences she hadn’t actually said. I felt a small thrill of fear. I knew for a pluperfect fact she was going to drop a bomb.
She took a manila folder from her briefcase and opened it on her lap, sorting through her papers. “Now my findings,” she said. “First of all, I want to tell you how much we value the call you made…”
I found myself squinting. “This is bad news, isn’t it?”
Startled, she laughed. “Oh, no. Far from it. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I talked to Mr. Vronsky at length. Our procedure is to make an unannounced visit so the caretaker won’t have an opportunity to set the scene, so to speak. Mr. Vronsky wasn’t ambulatory, but he was alert and forthcoming. He did seem emotionally fragile and in moments, he was disoriented, none of which was surprising in a man of his age. I asked him a number of questions about his relationship with Mrs. Rojas, and he had no complaints. In fact, quite the contrary. I asked him about his bruises…”
“Solana was present through all of this?”
“Oh, no. I asked her to give us time alone. She had work to do so she went about her business while we chatted. Later I talked to her separately as well.”
“But she was in the house?”
“Yes, but not in the same room.”
“That’s happy news. I trust you kept my name out of it.”
“That wasn’t necessary. She said you told her you were the one who called.”
I stared at her. “You’re kidding me, right?”
She hesitated. “You didn’t tell her it was you?”
“No, dear, I didn’t. I’d have to be out of my mind to do such a thing. First words out of her mouth and she’s bullshitting you. That was a fishing expedition. She made an educated guess and looked to you for confirmation. Bingo.”
“I didn’t confirm anything and I certainly didn’t tell her who called. She mentioned your name in the context of the dispute because she wanted to set the record straight.”
“I’m not following.”
“She said the two of you had an argument. She says you distrusted her from the moment she was hired so you were constantly on her case, coming over uninvited to check up on her.”
“That’s crap for starters. I’m the one who did the background investigation that cleared her for the job. What else did she tell you? I’d be fascinated to hear.”
“I probably shouldn’t be repeating this, but she mentioned that the day you saw Mr. Vronsky’s bruises, you accused her of hurting him and threatened to call the authorities to file a complaint.”
“She invented that story to discredit me.”
“Perhaps there was a misunderstanding between the two of you. I’m not here to judge. It’s not our job to mediate in situations like this.”
“Situations such as what?”
“People sometimes call when a question comes up about patient care. Usually it’s a disagreement between family members. In an effort to prevail…”
“Look, there was no disagreement. We never had a conversation on the subject at all.”
“You didn’t go to Mr. Vronsky’s house a week ago to help her get him out of the shower?”
“Yes, but I didn’t accuse her of anything.”
“But wasn’t it after that incident you called the agency?”
“You know when it was. You’re the person I spoke to. You said the call was confidential and then you gave her my name.”
“No, I didn’t. Mrs. Rojas brought it up. She said you told her you were the one who turned her in. I never responded one way or the other. I would never breach confidentiality.”
I slouched down on my spine, my swivel chair squeaking in response. I’d been screwed and I knew it, but I couldn’t keep pounding on the same point. “Skip it. This is dumb. Just get on with it,” I said. “You spoke to Gus and then what?”
“After I spoke with Mr. Vronsky, I had a conversation with Mrs. Rojas and she gave me some of the specifics of his medical status. She talked about his bruises in particular. His anemia was diagnosed when he was in the hospital, and while his blood count’s improved, he’s still prone to bruising. She showed me the lab reports, which were consistent with her claim.”
“So you don’t believe he’s being physically abused.”
“If you’ll bear with me, I’m getting to that. I also talked to Mr. Vronsky’s primary-care physician and the orthopedist who treated him for his shoulder injury. They say his physical condition’s stable, but he’s frail and unable to manage on his own. Mrs. Rojas said when she was hired, he was living in such filth she had to get a Dumpster…”
“What’s that have to do with it?”
“There are also questions about his mental competence. He hasn’t paid his bills in months and his doctors both feel he lacks the capacity to give informed consent for his medical treatment. He’s also unable to see to his daily needs.”
“Which is why she’s able to take advantage of him. Don’t you get that?”
Her expression became prim, nearly stern. “Please let me finish.” She shifted some papers uneasily. Her earnestness returned as though she were moving on to a far brighter note. “What I hadn’t realized, and you may not have been aware of this yourself, is that Mr. Vronsky’s situation has already come to the attention of the court.”