Walk the Wire (Amos Decker #6)(56)

“From your lips to God’s ear,” replied Decker.

“I’ll take a little divine intervention about now,” chimed in Jamison.

*

“Looks like a nice enough place,” said Jamison as a little over an hour later she steered the SUV into the parking lot of the Green Hills Nursing Home.

They climbed out and went inside. At the front desk was a young woman dressed in blue scrubs.

“May I help you?”

Kelly showed his credentials, as did Decker and Jamison. That got them referred to the supervisor on duty, a woman in her fifties with short, white hair, a portly frame, and a disagreeable look on her face.

“I spoke to you earlier,” she said to Kelly when he explained what they wanted. “We don’t have anyone here named Bud.”

“That’s probably a nickname,” said Kelly.

“So what’s his full name?” she said.

“Well, if we knew that, I would have given it to you already.”

“Did you ever have an Irene Cramer work here?” asked Decker.

“Cramer? Irene Cramer, no I don’t believe so. Look, what is this all about?”

Kelly took out a copy of Cramer’s driver’s license and showed it to the woman. “This is Irene Cramer.”

The woman put on a pair of glasses and looked closely at the photo. “Why, that’s Mary Rice. At least that was her name when she worked here.”

“When was that?” asked Decker.

“Come to my office.”

They followed her down the hall to a small, windowless room with drab furniture. She sat down at her desk and logged on to her desktop computer.

“Her last paycheck was issued about fourteen months ago.”

“What did she do here?” asked Jamison.

“She worked with our residents. She did physical therapy with them.”

“And she was certified to do that?” asked Decker.

“Yes, she had all the proper paperwork.”

“And you checked on all that, her references and all?”

“Yes, that’s our proper procedure. Everything was aboveboard.”

“Can we get copies of all that?” asked Kelly.

“Not without a warrant. I’m not looking to bring a lawsuit down on this place. Now, I don’t know what she’s involved in, but if Mary were to find out—”

“Mary is dead,” said Decker. “So she won’t be doing any suing.”

“Dead!”

“She was murdered. Which is the reason we’re here.”

“Oh my God.”

“And you’re sure you don’t have anyone here named Bud?” said Jamison.

“Quite sure. I know all the residents. There’s no one here with that name or nickname.”

Decker interjected, “But what about with those initials, B-U-D?”

The woman started to peck on the computer keyboard. A few minutes passed as she scrolled through some screens. Then she stopped and smiled. “It’s Brad. Bradley Unger Daniels. That’s B-U-D, right?”

“Yes it is,” said Decker.





“MARY?” SAID BRAD DANIELS. He was old and shrunken and seated in a wheelchair in the tiny, antiseptic room he would call home for the remainder of his life.

Decker, Jamison, and Kelly were seated across from him, pretty much filling up the small space.

Jamison nodded. “Yes, Mary Rice. She worked here a little over a year ago as a physical therapist.”

Daniels’s arthritic fingers clutched the head of his cane. “Mary, okay, yeah. I knew her.”

They had been told that Daniels was in his nineties and had been at the facility for ten years. His wife was dead; he had outlived his siblings and even both his children. His grandchildren lived out of state and came once a year at Christmas to visit him.

Kelly had tried to show him the picture of Cramer but Daniels shook his head. “Can’t really see no more.”

Decker looked around the room. Next to the bed on a small shelf were some pictures of little kids, and what looked to be birthday cards. On the nightstand was a ballcap. It was one worn by people who had served in World War II and denoted their branch of service.

“You were in the Air Force in World War II?” said Decker, glancing at the hat.

“Called it the Army Air Forces back then,” said Daniels, smiling feebly. “Was the Army Air Corps before that. Didn’t come to be the U.S. Air Force till later.”

“Were you a pilot?” asked Jamison.

“No. A navigator.” He perked up. “Flew on the B-17, -24, and the big boy, the B-29 Superfortress. Boy, those were some exciting times.”

“Navigator, huh?” said Kelly.

Daniels slowly nodded. “Always liked that stuff. Signals, radio waves. Radar, which was new back then. Got us where we were going and then got us back. Did a lot of bombing runs. Thought I was gonna die every time. Never managed to.” He chuckled softly.

“What’d you do after the war? Did you leave the service?” asked Decker.

“No, I stuck around and worked for the government.”

“What did you do?” asked Jamison.

Now the man’s weakened eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?” he said, his tone suddenly sharp.