Tall mesas surrounded their mountain home on the edge of a cliff. Rocoso was an area of wide open spaces, running canyons, soaring ravens, and strong stark mesas. Sophia stared at the vast expanse of land and sky. “Papa, wherever you are please be out of pain.”
Sophia’s and Geoffrey’s home was at the top of a foothill, sloping off of the Puerco Mountains. It was an undulating landscape of endless open arid land, framed with mesas of sufficient height to interrupt the skyline.
Running into the house out of the cold weather, Sophia called out, “Oh, Spirits, let courage run through my veins!”
3
Calavera, New Mexico
Thursday, January, 1988
Sophia drove down the road of dirt to her mother’s farm. The hard ridges jutting across the road gave it a corrugated texture. At either side of the road were detached properties of Southwestern stucco, many with trees for shade and small gardens consisting of native plants considerably older than the buildings. Barns of elaborate design accentuated the wealth of the neighborhood. Fences of white poles, white wood, or barbed wire separated the mink and manure acreage from one another. Her mother prided herself on living in a prestigious area of elite farmhouses with terraced irrigated fields, the last word in urban elegance.
Her mother’s front drive was filled with cars parked everywhere. The wooden gate reflected traces of care from better days. It was propped open with a block of wood. Old steel hooks hung rusted and broken, swinging in the wind. Two miles west, sitting on a sandstone cliff, six smokestacks broke the open range with thick plumes of chemical smoke. The natural landscape conflicted with the smog and the sterile buildings filled with scientists stamping out computer chips for industries’ latest technology.
Over the years citizens had submitted numerous petitions to close the computer plant regarding documented health issues. The government prefers jobs over health and the industrial center keeps chugging out cancerous fumes to fall on the small farming community.
Skirting around the paramedics’ ambulance, Sophia noticed the Medical Examiner’s van. A sheriff’s cruiser was parked in front of Granger’s metallic green Mercedes. A silver truck was parked at an odd angle beside Granger’s Mercedes and Margaret’s neighbor Charlotte’s white pickup truck. Sophia parked outside of the property. A yellow Volkswagen Bug was backed into a space under her father’s cottonwood tree. The VW had a drooling dog sitting in the passenger seat. Sophia laughed when she saw Daisy dog strapped into her seat belt. Daisy smiled with her brown eyes as Sophia knocked on the window.
Sophia’s scarf was wrapped around her neck and folded into the front of her warm jacket. She wore her old jeans in case she had to muck out the horse’s stall and her brown mittens warmed her hands. The red wool tam Geoffrey had given her for their first Christmas together kept her short hair tucked out of the wind.
Sophia slowly wound her way through the parked cars to her parents’ home. She noticed the stucco high on the wall curling from water damage. The window frames shed skins of white paint revealing discolored wood underneath. She blinked at this dilapidated house. How had it become so run down without notice? The house was certainly in a state of disrepair. Sophia turned when she heard her name being called.
Dr. Milligan was hurrying to her, “Sophia, wait up! Wait for me, please!” He wore his long coat over his white scrubs. His stethoscope was banging against his chest. The wind blew his heavy coat open allowing it to float around him. His reading glasses were on top of his head, keeping his short white hair from lifting.
He grabbed her right forearm, “Sophia, there is no reason for your father to be dead. I suspect foul play. Honestly! Your father was to be elevated forty degrees in his bed. His saliva should have run out of his mouth. There was no reason for him to stop breathing, unless...” Dr. Milligan wiped his white up turned mustache with his gloved hand, “unless, someone put his bed flat.”
Sophia moved away from him. “Doctor, are you accusing my family of murder?”
Dr. Milligan stepped back. He hit the side mirror on the ambulance with his back. “What? Ouch! Sophia, are you siding with them?” He shook his head, “Sophia, we have been a team here. We have been trying to get your father’s life back, weren’t we?”
Sophia turned away from him to enter the stucco cracked home. She heard his footsteps behind her. “Sophia, please allow me to explain. This may have been an accident. Your mother may have not realized how important it was to have him elevated. Do you think she lowered his bed, by accident?”
She needed to see what was being done, what had happened, and who was inside the house. She followed the sounds of voices as she entered. The house smelled heavily of furniture polish. The tile floor had been cleaned recently. A floor to ceiling bookcase on her left revealed stacked books covered in thick dust. They were in stark contrast to the fresh lemon smell, which hovered in the air.
Leaves had blown into the front entry room gathering into a pile under a shelf of knick-knacks. Margaret’s authoritative voice could be heard emanating from the kitchen. Granger’s velvet voice was radiating from the back bedroom down the hall. Sophia chose to go into the bedroom where perhaps she could view her father one last time. Dr. Milligan followed her.
Granger’s formidable presence blocked the painted wooden door to the bedroom. He had on a dark jacket with pinstriped trousers and polished shoes. He was clearly a man with a serious attitude about his position. He invited Sophia and Dr. Milligan into the room with a wave of his well manicured hand. “There wasn’t much chance of him getting better.” Granger’s voice was subtle in tone as he continued, “Ah, here are my sister and his doctor. They took care of him most of the time. I really haven’t seen him lately. My wife and daughter are in California visiting my wife’s family. I have been busy with my medical practice. I haven’t had time to do much for my father.”
Granger reached out to take Dr. Milligan’s gloved hand, “Dr. Milligan, good of you to come. This is a surprise, way above your duty. I would suppose.” Granger gave a respectful nod to the doctor. Completely ignoring Sopphia he left the room. His leather shoes echoed on the brick floor of the hall.
Sophia stared. There in the hospital bed was her Papa. There was no warmth. His brown eyes were frozen staring straight ahead. The Medical Examiner and a paramedic were trying to straighten his body unto his back. There was a long black plastic bag being pushed under his body by a younger paramedic. The smell in the room was a mixture of stale air and pine scent air freshener. Dr. Milligan quickly caught Sophia as she fell back, her knees giving way. “Whoa, girl, hold on there. Death is not something you can approach head on. Would someone get her a chair?”
The young paramedic closest to them grabbed a wooden chair and shoved it to Dr. Milligan. “Here you go.”
Sophia gently dropped into the chair as Dr. Milligan moved to stand next to the Medical Examiner. “So, what’s the verdict, Ralph?”
“Hey, Brian, well, won’t know for certain until I get him on the table. It appears he aspirated, choked. He had fluid in his trachea or in layman’s terms he died from respiratory failure.” The Medical Examiner pointed to Sophia, “She the caretaker?”
Sophia whispered out. “Papa, what happened to you?”
Dr. Milligan turned his back to Sophia as he spoke, “She’s his daughter and helped with Nurse Carol Grover. They both were his constant companions, until last night.”
“What happened last night?”
“Evidently, the deceased’s wife felt that Sophia, the daughter over there, and the nurse needed a night off to be with their families. So, the wife decided to take care of her husband by herself.”
The Medical Examiner lifted his eyebrows, “Well, I guess she did then, didn’t she? There is some petechial hemorrhaging, but not enough to suggest purposeful suffocation.