“But he didn’t sexually harass me. He had a private fantasy that he thought he had kept private. I wish I had never listened to the tapes.”

As Angie left, I saw the light go on indicating Mr. Rogers was on the phone in his room. I hooked up Wally’s device, clandestinely picked up the receiver, and hit record.

The next day, I tried to fulfill my promise. I went to Chloe and informed her that Mr. Rogers had lashed out, hitting me around the face and shoulders that morning while I dressed him in a fresh diaper and pair of pants. “He didn’t do much damage, because he’s very weak,” I said. “Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time he’s acted abusively like this, and I’m worried it’s becoming a habit.” Chloe offered me her most medical scowl in response. “That is unfortunate,” she sighed. “He’s been such a model resident until now, so calm and polite. Has anyone else reported this kind of behavior? They can get funny, our elderly, about particular staff members for no discernible reason. I can see to it that he’s usually covered by a different nurse.” I told her that Mr. Rogers had been the mastermind behind the phone sex ring, and he had also egged on Mr. Harris to harass Angie, who felt bad for him and didn’t want to formally complain. Wasn’t aggressiveness and lack of inhibition a side effect for a man in his condition?

“Indulging in sexual fantasies is not a side effect of stroke,” Chloe replied. “But that is serious. I promise my handling of this will be a priority.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“There’s an entire procedure we have to follow by law before transferring problem residents to a more rigorous facility,” she explained. “I’ll start by contacting his family.”

I felt satisfied that the future that lay in wait for Mr. Rogers involved him getting punted to some nightmare prison for the senescent where he would be handcuffed to a bed for the rest of his days; thus I had won. But when I came home after my shift, I found Jill packing for one of her trips, and she didn’t acknowledge my existence.

“Where to this time?” I asked.

“It’s an international flight,” she said, “London Heathrow, then on to Berlin. I’ll be in first class. Somebody called in last minute with food poisoning.”

“That’s fancy,” I said. “Have fun.” I went to kiss her, but she turned away to zip up her roller bag.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m not going to live here when I get back,” she replied. “I’ll come by when you’re at work and get my things. You won’t have to see me.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t find out? He has my cell phone number. Apparently someone reported him as a ‘disruptive influence in their senior community.’ I think that’s how it was phrased. The head nurse called his stepdaughter, who adores him. He paid for her education and her wedding and adopted her and everything.”