Daylight (Atlee Pine #3)(9)

“It certainly could be that the two things are connected.”

The nursing home looked like it had been built in the sixties with lots of poured cement and now-dated architecture. The roof-line was flat, and they could see rusty rooftop AC units perched up there in a linear formation.

They walked into the facility. The place had a musty odor, and the furnishings and wall coverings were old and frayed. Pine saw some elderly people moving slowly down the halls in either wheelchairs or walkers. Though old, the place looked relatively clean and uncluttered, but it certainly didn’t seem “cheery.”

Pine showed her creds and badge to the receptionist and they were directed to a supervisor’s office.

“What is this about?” asked the woman, who was in her thirties and dressed in a white smock. The remains of her lunch were sitting on her desk, in an office that was small and messy.

“We just want to ask Mrs. Vincenzo some questions in connection with an inquiry,” Pine began.

“Don’t you need a search warrant or something?” said the woman, who had not identified herself, but whose name tag read sally.

“Not for just talking to someone voluntarily, Sally,” replied Pine. “We’re not searching anything. Just asking questions. It’s about Mrs. Vincenzo’s husband.”

“I didn’t even know she had a husband. No one ever comes to visit except an old neighbor of hers.”

“She was the one who told me Mrs. Vincenzo was here, that she couldn’t care for herself any longer.”

Sally shook her head. “The poor folks forget to take medication, fall down, break a hip, try to drive, leave the cooktop on all night. It’s the old story.”

“So can we talk to her?”

“I’m not sure how much good it will do. She’s in our memory care unit.”

“ ‘Memory care unit’?”

“She’s been diagnosed with dementia.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but so long as we’re here? Can we at least give it a try? It’s important.”

“Well, I guess it can’t hurt. It might be good for her to have some visitors, poor thing.”

She led them down the hall to a set of double doors where a stenciled sign read MEMORY CARE UNIT.

Sally slid a card through a reader and the door clicked open. She led them to one room along the hall and knocked on the door. In a singsong voice she said, “Mrs. Vincenzo? Evie? You have visitors.”

She opened the door and they entered the room.

Evie Vincenzo was sitting up in bed and gazing placidly at them. She had on pink pajamas and there was a pink scarf over her curly hair. Many of the items in the room were also pink.

“She likes pink,” noted Sally. “It soothes her.”

“I’m fond of pink myself,” said Blum.

“I’ll check back in a bit,” said Sally. “Any issues, just hit that red button over the bed.”

She left, and Pine and Blum drew closer to the woman. Pine sat in a chair while Blum stood next to her.

Vincenzo gazed up at Pine. “Do I know you, young lady?” she asked in a pleasant voice.

“No, but I know your neighbor. She likes to knit. She called you Evie.”

Evie said nothing and her eyes started to close.

“She lived in the house to the left of yours?” Pine said helpfully.

The woman opened her eyes, but again didn’t respond.

Blum said, “Do you enjoy visitors? I think I would. It’s nice to talk to people.”

“I . . . I don’t know you, do I?”

Pine glanced at Blum. “No, but we wanted to visit you today.”

“My . . . I . . . not many visitors.”

“Your neighbor told us you were here.”

Evie shook her head, clearly frustrated. “Old woman.”

Pine drew closer. “Yes, I, uh, I was talking to her about your husband?”

“My . . . husband?”

“Yes, Ito? Do you remember him? She said he was a wonderful cook.”

Evie looked down at her lap. “I . . . used to . . . cook.” She glanced at a wall. “They took my . . . stove.”

Blum reached over and put a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I like to cook, too. I’m so sorry that you can’t.”

“Evie, do you think you could answer some questions about It—your husband?”

“My husband?” she said again. “I . . . no husband.” She shook her head. “I . . . so miss cooking.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do. Now, you have a son named Teddy and a grandson named Anthony.”

In response to this Evie took off her scarf, showing that her hair was mostly gone. The clumps that were left were a tinted red. She scrunched the scarf up in her hands. “I would bake bread. Knead, knead, knead, like this.”

Pine sighed and glanced at Blum in resignation. She leaned in and whispered, “Just keep talking to her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Just look around.”

“Agent Pine, the poor woman, I mean.”

“Carol, I know. I feel for her, I really do. But if she has something in here that can help me find my sister, I have to look. I might not get another chance. I’ll be quick and efficient.”