Sophia moved to the dining room table. Beautiful casseroles, plates of chocolate chip cookies, a walnut and spinach salad, and a large butternut cake were placed on the bright red and white table cloth. Sophia picked out a dark raisin bran muffin. She looked up as the sheriff’s deputy walked to her. His heavy jacket with insignia sewn on each shoulder was impressive. He held his brushed cowboy hat in his left hand as he asked, “What happened to your mother, Miss?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Her horse is ill and I asked her to go out and check on him. She will probably have to call the vet. Can I help you with something?” She held the plate of muffins to him. He put his hat on the corner of the table and plucked one off the plate. “Thank you, Miss, you are very kind.”
Sophia smiled, “You’re welcome and you can call me Sophia. I am a married woman with two children. What do you need to know?”
She handed him a paper napkin as he bit into the muffin and crumbs scattered on his shirt. “Oh, thank you. Yes, could we go into your father’s den? I have some questions for you.” As she walked beside him, he continued, “I spoke with the nurse Carol and your father’s doctor. Your brother was vague with his answers and appeared to be defensive. Your mother was polite, but appeared to be mourning and unable to say much.”
Sophia swallowed the last of the bran muffin only to choke on a crumb. The sheriff patted her back, “There, you could use something to drink. I’ll get some water. Enough people in this house have expired from respiration failure.” He did an about face to leave Sophia standing in front of her father’s desk. Papa’s photographs covered the wall behind his desk. Sophia remembered the stories he told relative to the photos of him at a mountain climbing event in Munich where he came in second behind a political diplomat in Greece. Her father’s favorite photo was of himself dancing with a dance hall girl in Paris.
“Here you go.” The sheriff handed her a mug of water. “Couldn’t find any drinking glasses, but there were mugs on the table. Hope it’s all right?”
Sophia took a long drink, “Yes, thank you.” Pointing at the photograph next to the inner door, she laughed. “You see this photo? This is when my father was in Arabia riding a camel. He was asked to tend to a sheik that had become ill while out herding his cattle in the desert. Papa said it was a two day journey, but it took him a month to relearn how to walk without a camel between his legs!”
The sheriff pointed to an old black and white photo, “What is this? It looks like he’s on a mountain with repelling gear and a hard hat?”
“Bingo! You got it. My father lived each day as if it were his last. He loved life fully. You can see from these photos all the people he knew and all the places he had gone. People loved him for he loved to tell stories, share ideas, and heal the sick.” Sophia sipped her water from the mug.
“Sounds like he was a great man, what happened to him?” The sheriff continued to study the pictures.
“He lived too hard at times, I guess. He would work days and nights, taking medications to stay awake and then when he could crash he needed help with that, too. Even when he found out he had an incurable horrible disease, he tried to end his life his way.” Sophia shook her head.
Getting the sheriff’s attention, he pulled out his notepad. “What do you mean he tried to end his life his way?”
“It was gruesome. He knew what he had. He knew how sick he would become and how dependent he would be on his family. Somewhere he got a hold of a revolver and was going to end his life his way, out there, behind the barn.” She pointed to the north. “But then, my mother was suspicious. She had my brother follow my father. My brother Granger took the revolver away from him. Then my mother and brother legally documented my father as being incompetent. They took over his accounts, his stocks, his titles and deeds, everything.”
Sophia leaned against the door frame, surveying all the photos, “This vibrant man became a vegetable. It happened faster than we thought. Within six weeks he couldn’t walk and then within three months he was silent. It was sad, but at least we got to say good-bye to him.” Sophia wiped one of the photos near the bookcase with her index finger, “He was such a beautiful man to have such a pathetic death.”
“Where was he from? The name is not from around here is it?” The sheriff studied Sophia’s face.
“No, he was born in southern Italy. His father was from Spain, but his mother was an Italian princess from some small royal family south of Florence. They moved to Canada after the Second World War. She was incredibly refined, very lady like. She was an artist and a dancer. My father’s father specialized in grapes. He was a vineyardist. Grandpa knew the diseases, bugs, and fungi that could destroy the fragile vines. Grandpa had his signature grape mixtures and supplements. At one point he was in great demand, but then huge vineyards developed their own medical grape staff. His diaries and recipes are over there in the brown leather volumes.”
She sat down in the cloth chair beside the desk. “Grandpa’s work was outsourced with the coming of the telephone and mass production. He was a good man, very quiet, very loyal to family. He died from a massive stroke when I was eleven. My father’s mother didn’t live long after her husband. My grandparents were a spiritual team. They were truly in love.”
The sheriff sat on the short couch across from her. He put out his hand, “By the way, my name is Ignacio Cruz. I’m an investigator detective with the sheriff’s department. It’s standard procedure to ask the family questions when there is a home death. If you don’t mind I need for you to tell me your full name.”
“Ah, we are now getting down to business?” Sophia spelled her last name for him. He asked, “You and your husband live around here?”
“No, not really, we live about seventeen miles north of here at Rocoso on the east side of the interstate. We have two daughters and a fantastic view of the mesas.”
Ignacio leaned back on the couch to cross his ankle over his knee. “When was the last time you saw your father?” Sophia explained how she had bathed him yesterday morning, had fed him lunch through his feeding tube, and was told to go home by her mother at five o’clock. “I wanted to stay and give him his last feeding through the feeding tube, but my mother stated she could handle it. I have full confidence in her. If she felt unable she would have called my brother Granger. He lives across the way over the ditch on Calle Paton. He would have helped her.”
He wrote for a few minutes and then asked, “When did the nurse Carol Grover attend to your father?”
“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” Sophia hesitated for she wanted to be very sure he understood what occurred, “Carol has a wonderful dog named Daisy. Daisy had been playing with the neighbor’s dogs next door. That would be Mr. Perkal and his wife who have the dogs. Daisy was chasing a porcupine and got quills in her nose. Carol had to take Daisy to the vet. She called and asked if I would care for Papa yesterday. The vet had to fit her in as he had a full schedule of clients. I agreed because we help each other out when there is a need.”
Ignacio let out sigh, “I have a black lab that is always getting sprayed by skunks. Yes, we all need help when it comes to our dogs!” He stretched his legs out in front of him, “Did your mother understand your father’s bed was not to be lowered? Was she made aware of how important it was to keep his bed elevated?”
Sophia placed her empty mug on her father’s desk. “I believe Dr. Milligan had made it clear to her. As a matter of fact, Carol made a metal triangle wedge to put under the elevated part of the hospital bed. She jammed it under the back of the elevated frame. The bed couldn’t be dropped. Carol takes excellent care of her patients. She’s taught me a lot about healthcare and patient needs.”
“Would you show me this triangle?” He stood. “It would help to understand