Page 81 of Death on Riddle Road
She didn’t answer.
So, I added, with conviction, “And the hospice’s administration told you not to.”
“Neither of which was necessary,” she said by way of confirmation.“I will not gossip about the circumstances of a patient’s death.”
“Oh, but Rose,” Clara said earnestly, “this is not gossip.We’re trying to find out who killed him so everyone — well, everyone except the murderer — can go on with their lives.They need those answers.Just as family members of hospice patients need the — I hate the word, but it is a kind ofclosure.”
“That’s the job of the sheriff’s department.Leave it to them.”
“If you hadn’t stepped forward and said there was something wrong, no one — the sheriff’s department or us — would be looking into his death,” I said.“So you must also care about justice being done.That’s why you notified the sheriff’s department, isn’t it?”
She gave me a sharp look.“I didn’t notify the sheriff’s department.”
“Really?But everyone said you did.”Clara delivered that with innocent curiosity, when I probably would have sounded accusatory.
“I...urged the hospice administrator to call the sheriff’s department.I might have, eventually, done so myself if that was necessary.But I preferred it go through normal channels.”
“So, the administrator called the sheriff’s department?”I asked.
“No.The administrator resisted calling the sheriff’s department, but agreed to my calling an assistant coroner.”Her mouth shifted.It wasn’t a grin or a smile, but it did convey a modicum of satisfaction.“The assistant coroner and I were medics together for the regional emergency response unit.She called in the sheriff’s department immediately.”
The not-a-grin-not-a-smile disappeared.“A satisfactory conclusion, but an unnecessary delay.And it meant keeping people out of the room for a period of time that called more attention to the situation than the administrator wanted, as I told her it would.
“It also meant the family arrived before it was settled.Would have been much better not having the widow screeching in the hallway for us to leave herbabyalone.”
I didn’t bother trying a soft transition to the next topic.
“How are drugs handled here?”
She gave me a sharp look.Unclear if it was admonitory or appreciative.I had my suspicions.
“Carefully and professionally.”
“You have protocols for the patients’ drugs,” Clara suggested.
“Of course we do.A secured area for all drugs.Within that secured area, locked compartments for drugs included in Schedules II, III, IV, and V.Inventory is closely monitored, as is administration to patients.I have no criticism of the procedures or their implementation here.”
The highest praise from her, I guessed.
“So, if one patient’s meds were administered to another patient by accident—?”
“It would not happen.”Rose’s lip curled.“Even indulging a fictional hypothesis, it would have been apparent immediately when the sheriff’s department looked into the medication protocols.”
“But no one would know if someone brought in potentially fatal drugs from outside the building, would they?Because visitors and family—”And staff, I mentally added, but didn’t say.“—are not frisked or their possessions searched.”
Her lip uncurled.I could hope it was admiration.Might have been shock.
“Frisked...?Are you saying a visitor—”
Or staff, I mentally added again.
“—administered a lethal dose of a drug to Derrick Dorrio?”
“We’re exploring possibilities,” I said.“From what you said, it is possible.”
“Possible,” she said grudgingly.“But it didn’t happen.”
Clara came to my defense.“How do you know?You said it’s possible—”
