Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (14 page)

Before I could boldly announce myself in case Kevin 134

and Amery were polishing the conference table again, Kevin appeared holding an HS Precision mug.

“Hey, Jules. How you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been a kicking post for a herd of cattle, thanks for asking.”

“Martinez didn’t go into much detail the last time he called.”

“The last time? How many times did he call you?”

“The first night? Four. Total? Seven.”

Whoa. I unwrapped my scarf and let my eyes drift to the conference room.

“Amery’s not here. She’s in Vegas.”

Thank God. “Doing what?”

“Travel agents’ conference. She was supposed to leave the day of the storm, but the Rapid City airport closed and she wasn’t able to get a flight out until yesterday morning.”

“How bad was it here?”

“They advised no travel due to the whiteout conditions. Amery swung by my place and ended up snowed in with me.”

“Lucky you.”

“Were you really stuck at the ranch, alone, with Doug?”

“Yeah. It sucked in more ways than I can get into.

And I’d like nothing better than to pretend it never happened.” I detoured to the conference room and poured a cup of coffee. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Not much. I’m surprised you came in.”

135

I headed to my office for a cigarette to make my morning ritual complete. When I spun my chair around after firing up my computer, I was surprised Kevin sat across from my desk, looking . . . uneasy. “What?”

“I want to apologize.”

“For?”

“For letting Amery say what she said to you. She didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. You’re a damn good investigator. You found out more than I would have if I hadn’t been so goddamn busy thinking with my dick.”

“You’re admitting the little head led the big head astray? What’s next? You gonna take Kim up on her offer to teach you how to knit and start spewing Dr. Phil?”

“Fuck off.” He pointed his finger at me. “This is why it’s hard to be nice to you. Because you don’t know how to act. Or how to graciously accept an apology.”

My thoughts backtracked to Martinez’s ministra-tions last night. Talk about nice. Maybe I was only gracious to those who deserved it. I smoked, waiting for Kevin to get to the point.

“Anyway, while we were snowed in, Amery and I spent a lot of time talking about her grandfather. She didn’t want to hear it, but in the end she realized you were right.”

I sucked back a
neener neener
smart retort with a lungful of smoke.

“She told me when she returns from Vegas her priority will be to get him moved into the acute care unit 136

at Prairie Gardens.”

“Any idea on how she plans to do that? Management wasn’t too keen on helping Amery before, which was why she hired us.”

“She mentioned hiring a lawyer. Or at least contacting AARP to see if they can recommend an elderly rights advocate.”

“Smart move, allying with a qualified professional who’s better suited to deal with Vernon’s problems.

She shouldn’t try to buck the system on her own.”

Kevin gave me a strange look.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just been a while since you agreed with me on anything.”

“Where’s the fun in that, partner?” I stared back at him with equal curiosity.

“What?”

“So this . . . thing between you and sweet young thang. What happens now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I assume we’re done working for her.”

He fidgeted, an unusual “tell” for him. “Yeah. So?”

“So why didn’t you jet off to Sin City with her?

It’s not like we have pressing cases. I can’t believe she didn’t ask you.”

“She did.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

Kevin’s sharp green eyes cut through the crap and right to the truth. “Because you were missing.

137

Martinez isn’t the only person who cares about you, Jules.”

A heavy pause hung like a slab of rotten meat.

“As far as what happens when Amery returns? I don’t know. I like her. She’s . . . different from Lilly.”

“Duh. Because she’s about twenty years Lilly’s junior.”

“Ha ha. If I recall, your former boy toy Kell was the same age as Amery.”

“True.” I ground out my cigarette. “Don’t know what it is, but Amery seems younger.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew her. In some ways, she’s old beyond her years.”

I
so
didn’t want to know if he was alluding to her sexual experience or his perceived age of her soul.

Kevin’s cell phone jangled. He frowned at the caller ID before he answered, “Hello,” brusquely. The corners of his mouth turned up in a soft smile. “Hey.

No, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize the number. I forgot you didn’t have your cell. How’s Vegas?”

I didn’t pretend I wasn’t eavesdropping. If he wanted a private conversation he could skip out of my office.

“Slow down. I didn’t catch that.” His eyebrows drew together. “When? Why didn’t they get in touch with you before you left? Oh. Right.” Pause. “Amery, come on, doll, slow down. I can’t understand you.”

Doll?
Eww. Then again, could be worse. At least he wasn’t calling her sugar tits.

“They’re sure?” His gaze snapped back to mine.

138

“No problem. Don’t worry; we’ll check it out. Yes, I promise. The minute I know anything. I can reach you at this number? Good.” Pause. “I know. It’ll be okay. Try not to think about it. I’ll be in touch.”

Kevin clicked his phone shut and stared at me—

through me, really—but didn’t offer a clue to the cryptic conversation.

“What’s going on?”

“Amery’s boss here in Rapid called the hotel in Las Vegas a couple of hours ago. She left an emergency message. Seems Prairie Gardens has been unable to reach Amery.”

“Why not?”

He scratched his jaw with the edge of the antennae.

“The day the blizzard hit she left her cell phone at the office. Then she spent the next day snowed in with me. She went straight from my house, to hers, to the airport, so they couldn’t reach her at home and the travel agency has been closed until today.”

“What’s so urgent?”

“Vernon Sloane is missing.”

“For how long?”

“That’s the thing. No one knows. They’re thinking since the day of the snowstorm. Since the day you saw him.”

A queasy feeling sloshed the coffee around in my stomach. “Did they talk to Luella? She was scheduled for a home visit with him later that morning.”

“No one has seen her either.” Kevin quit twirling 139

his cell phone and dropped it inside his suit jacket pocket as he stood.

“So what is the staff at Prairie Gardens doing to find him?”

“According to Amery, nothing.”

“Nothing? Then why the hell did they call her?”

“She doesn’t know. Whenever she calls back to get more information, they just put her on hold. She’s going crazy and asked if I’d—if we’d—go check it out.” He looked at me. Pleadingly.

Say no.

“Hang on. I’ll get my coat.”

140

When we arrived at Prairie Gardens, no one would talk to us. They shepherded us to a tiny reception room in the butt-fuck Egypt part of the building and told us to wait.

Kevin tired of waiting. He called 911.

Nothing gets attention like cop cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance. The first cop on scene knew Kevin. While he was pissed off about the tactic Kevin employed to get action, on some level he understood.

We waited for the manager to show up. And rather than waste time and manpower, the firefighters and the ambulance crew knocked door to door, asking if any residents had seen Vernon Sloane. By the surprised expressions, I doubted anyone had performed this task on the general populace. Why not? Why weren’t the security teams and the caretakers doing their job? For 141

Christsake, a man was missing. Didn’t anyone care?

No wonder Amery freaked out.

Dee was practically in tears as she fluttered about, trying to calm residents, insisting everything was a simple misunderstanding.

Officer Smith stayed with us when we entered Vernon Sloane’s empty apartment. Didn’t look any different than it had a couple of days ago, which meant nothing. Searching for a missing coat, boots, or a suit-case was pointless, too.

The three of us were loitering outside the door when a man sashayed down the hallway. He was somewhere around fifty, with slicked-back reddish-brown hair, a face free of signs of aging, courtesy of Botox. He wore dark tan pants, a wool blazer, and a cream-colored turtleneck. It surprised me he wasn’t stroking a yippy poodle or a groomed terrier.

I could give a crap about sexual orientation, but this gent was so gay he actually swished when he bypassed me.

“Officer. I’m Bradley Boner.”

Oh, yeah, I totally felt the urge to snicker like a third grader. Not only because of the guy’s name, but when he shook Dave’s hand, I noticed he wore a diamond-studded ring on his pinkie.

“You the manager?”

“Yes. And frankly, I’m disturbed by why it’s necessary to have all this”—he pointed to the EMTs standing at the head of the hive—“commotion. We’ve 142

followed procedure—”

“Bull. If your security team had followed procedure, then these residents would’ve known Vernon Sloane was missing,” I said. “Instead, you hid the information. Which makes us think you’re hiding a helluva lot more, which is exactly why we caused this
commotion
.”

Boner’s poufy red lips made a girlish moue of dis-pleasure. “And just who are you?”

“Julie Collins, of Wells/Collins Investigations.

Amery Grayson is out of town and she hired us in her stead to find out what happened to her grandfather.”

A little white lie. “Seems he’s been missing since the blizzard struck? When we discovered that your crack security team
hadn’t
followed procedure and contacted the police”—I smiled sweetly—“we thought involving law enforcement would speed things along.”

“If you’ll accompany me to my office, be assured I’ll get to the bottom of it.” He spun on his spit-and-polished dress shoes without waiting to see if we’d follow.

Dee gave me the evil eye when we passed the desk.

I gave her one right back.

Bradley Boner’s office sparkled as if it’d just come off the office supply truck. Not a spare paper clip or file folder or Post-it Note anywhere. No computer.

Not even a Cross pen set. If I had to guess, I’d say the office hadn’t been used before today.

After I leaned against the wall, Kevin and Officer Smith snagged the two chairs in front of the enormous 143

cherrywood desk.

Officer Smith began. “How long have you been the manager here, Mr. Boner?”

“I took over seven months ago at the request of the new owners.”

“Did you personally hire your staff?”

“Some. Others were holdovers from the previous administration.”

“Including the volunteer staff?”

“Yes. Recently Prairie Gardens began a new active senior volunteer program, called Prime Time Friends.”

“Don’t you mean enforced a volunteer program on all residents, where the volunteers are financially compensated?” I asked.

Boner’s face blanched, but he blithely continued,

“Our head volunteer, Luella Spotted Tail, penciled in an outing for the day in question with Mr. Sloane.

Logic says due to the poor road conditions, Ms. Spotted Tail took him to her private residence.”

“Is that standard procedure? Ms. Spotted Tail hosting resident slumber parties on a whim?”

Officer Smith jotted notes. Kevin sat there like a toad.

Fuck this.
“You’ve called Ms. Spotted Tail at her private residence and confirmed this?”

Boner didn’t even look at me. “We’re working on it.”

“You either have or you haven’t.” I gestured to the shiny black phone on his desk. “It’s not that hard.

144

Call her. Right now.”

“You have no authority—”

“And you have no idea where Vernon Sloane is, do you, Mr. Boner? Do you even know how to use that phone? Or is it just another prop?”

“Miz Collins,” Officer Smith said, “take a deep breath. We all want the same thing.” He angled his head toward Boner. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Boner?”

“Absolutely, Officer.”

“Then you should have no reason not to answer Miz Collins’s question.”

Boner’s self-righteous smirk faded.

“Have you, or any of your staff, been in touch with Miz Spotted Tail, either by phone or in person?”

“No.”

“But you
have
phoned her?”

“Yes,” he said tightly. “We learned some of the phone lines were down in that part of town, which might be a reason why she didn’t answer.”

“But the streets are cleared,” I pointed out. “Why didn’t one of your trusty staff members drive the company van over to check on her?”

No answer.

He cut me an icy stare. Might’ve been intimidat-ing, if I hadn’t been dating Tony Martinez—king of the piss-your-pants icy glare.

I crossed the room in three angry steps to slap my hands on his desk. “You slimy sack of shit. You didn’t send anyone, did you? As a matter of fact, I’ll bet you 145

didn’t even know a resident was missing. Who on your staff called you and warned you to get your prissy ass out of bed because the cops showed up?”

“Julie,” Kevin warned.

“I will not sit here and listen to your insulting accusations,” Boner said.

Officer Smith didn’t jump in and chastise me. My ability to speak my mind was probably therapeutic for him—not that he could admit it. “Maybe you should take a breather, Miz Collins.”

“Fine. I’m going. I need some fresh air since something sure stinks in here.” To make my descent into good PI/bad PI complete, I slammed the door.

I didn’t get far. Dee blocked my retreat before I hit the receptionist’s area.

“Who are you?”

“Someone who is very, very pissed off right now, so get the hell out of my way.”