“So are our files, I’m afraid.”
“But you’re familiar with Meadowvale?”
“I know the place.”
“Our client suspects a resident was mistreated in some way.”
“How?”
“Possibly deprived of her medication.”
“Intentionally?”
“Yes.”
“That’s an extraordinary allegation. Has he filed a complaint?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Well, I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mister…”
“Geller. Jonah Geller.”
“And the name of your firm again?”
“Beacon Security.”
“Well, thank you again and I will forward a note immediately to our investigations unit.”
“Can you copy me on that?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Copy me on the memo. For our files.”
“I’m sorry, we don’t share that type of communications externally.”
“Can you at least tell me if any similar complaints about Meadowvale have been filed.”
“No.”
“No you can’t tell me, or no there haven’t been any?”
“No, I can’t tell you about any complaint unless it has been formally resolved.”
“So have any been resolved regarding Meadowvale in the past?”
“No. I was just looking at their file and I would have noted any infractions or substantiated complaints.”
“Why?”
“Why would I have noted them?”
“Why were you looking at the file?”
“Mr. Geller, this is an office of the government of Ontario, not some shoeshine stand where detectives pick up tips. If your client is prepared to file a complaint, we will look into it.”
“You said you were going to look into it anyway.”
“And I will. Good after-”
“A woman died,” I cut in.
“An elderly woman,” Tunney said. “In a nursing home. It happens every day. And when it does, the people who placed them there feel guilty. They look for someone to blame. Between you and me, I think your client is wasting your time.”
“It’s his time. He paid for it.”
“Well, it’s my time too, and we’re very busy here,” she said. “Everyone’s taking summer holidays and we’re severely understaffed.”
“Could you at least tell me why you recommend Meadowvale to clients?”
She sighed impatiently. “Meadowvale is one of many facilities I recommend, depending on the client’s needs. Now either file a complaint or don’t. Until then I have nothing else to say.”
Her voice was replaced by a dialtone. For warmth and humanity, it had her beat by a mile.
CHAPTER 13
The mission statement of the Vista Mar Care Group was heavy on saccharine but vague on specifics. Vista Mar had thirteen facilities across Ontario, according to its Internet home page. There were photos of each, along with links to testimonials from satisfied families. Meadowvale was by far the largest of the Vista Mar homes and the most recently acquired.
Along the home page’s top banner were two icons: “About Us” and “Contact Us.” I tried “About Us” first. I found the bio of the president and chief executive officer, one Steven Stone, aged thirty-two. He had earned a B. Comm. at York University, then took his MBA at the Richard Ivey School of Business at the University of Western Ontario. He founded Vista Mar a year after graduating.
Two years younger than me and the CEO of a sprawling corporation, while my current claim to corporate fame was being sole proprietor of an ass in a sling.
Also listed was the company’s medical director, Paul Bader. Since earning his medical degree at McMaster University in Hamilton, he had worked at a number of geriatric facilities. Quite a number, in fact, given the year he had completed his studies. He had moved around a lot before joining Vista Mar.
When I clicked “Contact Us,” an electronic business card popped up on screen: Alice Stockwell, director of administration and corporate secretary. I dialled her number and listened to it ring several times, hoping it would go to voice mail so I could hang up and pass the baton back to Franny. It was time for him to pull his head out of his ass and do his own work so I could turn my attention back to Jay Silver.
But on the fourth ring a woman answered in a cool, professional tone. “Alice Stockwell here.”
“Good morning,” I said. “My name is Jonah Geller and I’m an investigator with Beacon Security. I’d like to ask you a few questions about a case we’re working on.”
“Just a moment.” I was put on hold for about a minute before she returned. I wondered if she had had to ask permission to talk to me, or perhaps had set up a recording. She said, “All right, Mr. Geller. What’s this about?”
“We were engaged by someone who placed a family member in a Vista Mar nursing home. The family member died and the client has concerns.”
“What kind of concerns?”
“It would fall in the area of malpractice.”
“Well, I hope your client can prove it in court.”
“No one is talking about court-”
“Because Meadowvale has an outstanding record of patient care. There has never been a finding of negligence or malpractice as long as I’ve worked here.”
“I never said it was at Meadowvale. I said one of your homes.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, Meadowvale is the largest and our corporate offices are housed here so-”
“How long?”
“What?”
“You said ‘as long as I’ve worked here.’ How long?”
“Three years. But-”
“Did you know Steven before that?”
“Steven? What are you-”
“Stone. Steven Stone. He started it four years ago, you joined soon after…”
“Mr. Geller, your questions are all over the map and I-”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Will you stop, please! Just stop.”
I stopped. I was dying to hear what she’d say when she collected herself.
“It’s normal for people to feel that way,” she said.
“What way?”
“Guilty. When their loved ones die. We see it every day. They need someone other than themselves to blame and they choose us. Between you and me, I think your client is wasting your time.” Singing from the same hymnbook as Darlene Tunney, almost to the word. I wondered if they had rehearsed.
Stockwell told me to submit any further queries by email and hung up. I left Franny a note about my conversations with Tunney and Stockwell. I suggested he get one of Beacon’s forensic auditors to dig into the
