The Last Mile (Amos Decker, #2)(99)

She seemed to stiffen, as though she had finally connected the dots in her mind. “Um, well, it actually seems that it was only a few blocks away from the church.”

“And is it possible that the officers who were guarding the church were also the ones pursuing and then arresting Mr. Montgomery?”

“I have no way to determine that.”

“You have the arrest report and the officers’ names were surely on it.”

“Yes, but I don’t think there’s any way to determine which officers were watching the church at that time.”

“But it’s possible that they were one and the same?”

“Anything is possible,” she replied sharply.

“And what was the explanation given at the time as to how the bomb was planted and detonated while the church was supposedly under police protection?”

“I’m not sure any explanation was ever given, because no arrests were made. It seemed that folks assumed whoever did it slipped past the officers somehow.”

“And the officers’ testimony regarding their whereabouts at the time?”

“There was nothing in the file about that.”

“But if they did pursue Montgomery and arrest him, that means the church would have been left unguarded, correct?”

“Accepting your premise, which I don’t necessarily, the answer is yes.”

“And the time of Mr. Montgomery’s arrest was nine-ten in the evening?”

“That’s what the files indicate, yes.”

“And the time of the bombing?”

Pierce’s gaze dropped to the file. Her voice shook slightly when she said, “The best guess was about nine-fifteen.”

“Interesting coincidence,” said Bogart sternly.

“Well, don’t look at me, as I said, I wasn’t even born at the time,” retorted Pierce indignantly.

“And his obituary said that Nathan Ryan was one of the first on the scene,” said Decker.

“I read that too, after Agent Bogart contacted me. I wasn’t aware of it before.”

“But the church was in a predominantly black area. It was nighttime. Why would Ryan have been in the area at all? Did he live close by?”

Pierce shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“You said you know some of the Ryans?” asked Jamison.

“Yes.”

“Could you get us their contact information?” said Bogart.

Pierce looked across at Decker with unfriendly eyes. “Are you really suggesting that this Montgomery person was used as a distraction to get the police on guard to leave their posts so the bombing could take place?”

“No, I’m suggesting that the local police knew exactly what was going on and were ordered to leave their posts to arrest Montgomery so the bomb could be planted and then detonated.”

She paled. “Ordered? By whom?”

“Well, that’s for us to find out,” replied Decker.





CHAPTER

57



AFTER SEVERAL PHONE calls made to various Ryans in town, they arrived at a small, neat bungalow in a modest surburban neighborhood. The houses were shaded with mature trees, and the laughter of children playing filtered through the air.

Mildred Ryan was in her late eighties and wispy white hair covered her pink scalp. Time had bowed her back and shrunk her frame. She wore large black-rimmed glasses that seemed to swallow her tiny face. She sat huddled in a shawl in a comfortable chair in a bedroom of the bungalow, which was owned by her daughter.

That daughter, Julie Smithers, was eyeing Decker and his group suspiciously as they stood in the doorway of the bedroom.

“I really don’t see what my mother can tell you. It was a long time ago and her memory is not that good.”

Smithers was short, built like a bulldog, and her face held the same stubborn features of that canine breed.

Bogart said smoothly, “We just want to ask a few questions. If she’s not up to it we’ll leave and come back another time.”

Ryan looked up from the Bible she was reading, her finger touching each word. “Just tell them to come on in, Jules, and ask their questions. I’m up for it,” she said in a drawl that signaled her Mississippi roots.

Decker said, “Doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with her hearing.”

“Just don’t overtire her,” warned Smithers.

She left and Decker and the others moved slowly into the room.

Ryan pointed to two chairs, one of which Jamison took, and the other one Bogart offered to Decker. He sat down and slid the chair closer to Ryan. Bogart and Mars stood behind him. She looked up at all of them.

“Haven’t had this many visitors in years,” she said.

Bogart showed her his badge and said, “Mrs. Ryan, thank you for meeting with us.”

“You’re welcome. And what is this about?”

Decker said, “Your husband, Nathan?”

“He’s dead. Long time ago.”

“We know. But we wanted to ask some questions about him. Having to do with the church bombing back in 1968. Do you remember that?”

The shrunken woman seemed to collapse inward even more at these words. “Hell, who could forget? All those little colored children. It…it was such a shame.” She shook her head. “It’s the devil’s work. I said so then and I say so now.”