“Nothing here,” said Kelly, a while later.
“Same here,” said Jamison as she put down the last journal, while Decker was still poring through the file cabinets.
Jamison sat down at the desk and pulled the Rolodex toward her.
“Funny thing to have these days, especially for a young person.”
Decker looked up from the cabinet drawer. “Anything in there?”
Jamison flipped through some of the cards starting with the letter A. “They look to be all empty,” she said. “Why have an empty Rolodex on your desk?”
Decker walked over, took it from her, and started going through each card. Finally, near the end he pulled one out that had some writing on it.
“What letter was that under?” asked Kelly.
Decker said, “I think Cramer was trying to be cute. It was under X, as in ‘X marks the spot.’ And I guess she was counting on the fact that almost no one would search every card.”
“Well, she didn’t count on you,” quipped Jamison.
“What does it say?” asked Kelly.
Decker read off the card. “Lesson Plan C dated December 15th of last year.”
“Any idea what that might mean?” asked Jamison.
In answer, Decker raced back over to the file cabinet, quickly searched through the material there, and pulled out a scheduling binder. He flipped it open to December.
“Okay, on December fifteenth, she’s written the name ‘Bud,’ Green Hills Nursing Home, Williston, North Dakota.” He looked up. “And there’s an address and phone number.”
“Why would she have that written down in a lesson plan?” asked Kelly.
“Well, considering the subterfuge with the Rolodex, she probably didn’t want it listed on her phone but still wanted it around to refer to.”
“Williston isn’t that far from here,” said Kelly. “You want to go check it out?”
“Yes, but call first and see if they have anyone named Bud there.”
Kelly took out his phone, looked at the number on the page, and made the call.
He spoke into the phone for a bit and then waited for about a minute. “They’re checking,” he said. Someone came back on the line and he listened for a few moments. He clicked off and looked at them. “They don’t have anyone named Bud living there. Nor anyone who lived there recently with that name.”
“It might be a nickname,” said Jamison.
“Which means we need to take a trip to Williston,” said Decker.
They left and climbed into the SUV.
“You think this might finally be a break?” said Kelly.
“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.
Decker squatted down in front of the man. “Did you talk to Mary about some of the things you’d done?”
“You haven’t answered my question ye
t, so why should I answer yours?”
“You liked Mary?”
“She was a nice gal. Patient. Pushed me to do my therapy, but she did it in a way that wasn’t too overbearing like some of them can be here. I liked her. Too bad when she left. Where’d she get to?”
“Would it surprise you to learn that she moved to London, North Dakota?”
The old man flinched. “London?”
“Yes. It’s where the Douglas S. George Defense Complex is located.”
“Well, I know that.”
“Because you worked there? A long time ago?” said Decker.
“Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t. But if I did, it’s classified,” said Daniels. He closed his eyes and gripped the head of his cane tighter.
“But you talked to Mary about it?”
“How do you know that?” said Daniels. “Did she say I did?”
“No. But why else would she have moved up there? I mean, otherwise it’s a really big coincidence.”
“I got nothing to say on the subject.”
“Did you know that the Air Force sold most of the land around the radar facility?”
“Sold the land?” said Daniels sharply. “To who?”
“A religious organization called the Brothers. Ever heard of them?”
Daniels shook his head.
“And they in turn leased some of the land to frackers.”
“Frackers?”
“Companies that drill down for oil and gas.”
“They’re drilling on that land?” asked Daniels.
“Yes.” Decker glanced at Kelly and then Jamison. He turned back to Daniels. The old man was staring directly at him. “The thing is, we unfortunately can’t talk to Mary.”
“Don’t know where she is, then?” Daniels said.
“No, we do.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Someone murdered her.”
The old man seized up. For a moment Decker thought he might be having a stroke.
“Get out of here,” he suddenly roared, blinking away tears. “You just get out of here, right now. Leave me alone. Leave me the hell alone.”
A uniformed nurse rushed into the room.
“Mr. Daniels?” she said frantically. “What’s wrong?”
He pointed at the others. “These people are harassing me. I want them to leave.”
The nurse looked sternly at the three.
Jamison held out her FBI badge and said, “We had to ask him some difficult questions because of a police investigation.”
“Oh, I see. But he’s upset now. I . . . I think you should leave. He’s not in the best of health.”
Jamison tugged on Decker’s arm. “I think you’re right. We’re going.”
They left the room.
As they walked down the hall Decker said, “He knows. He told Cramer something that made her quit her job here, change her name, and move to London.”
“We just don’t know what,” said Kelly.
“He worked at the Air Force station,” said Jamison. “That has to be the connection. He said he was a navigator and was into radar and radio waves and all. That’s what they do up in London.”
“We need to find out when he was there, exactly,” said Decker. “It’s been around since the fifties, you said?”
“That’s right,” said Kelly. “I don’t know the exact date when it opened.”
“I can get Bogart to check on that,” said Jamison.
Decker said, “And when we find out when he was there and what he was doing, we’re going to come back here and have it out with that guy.”
“But he’s a really old man, Decker,” said Jamison.
“Yeah, I know. And right now, he’s also the best shot we have to solve this case.”
As they walked outside, Kelly said, “What the hell is going on here?”
“I don’t know,” said Decker. “But we’re getting closer to them.”
“Okay, but let’s just hope they don’t get us before we get them,” said Jamison ominously.
“AND BOGART SAID he was on it?” asked Decker.
He and Jamison were walking to a restaurant where they were having dinner with Baker and Caroline Dawson.
Decker had changed into another pair of pants, a clean white shirt, and his worn corduroy jacket with elbow patches, which constituted his most elegant set of clothes. The weather had changed; the temps had dipped into the sixties and the humidity had vanished.
Jamison had on a dark skirt that hit at her knee, ankle boots with zippers on the side and chunky heels, and a white blouse with a jean jacket over it.
“Yes. I talked to him just a bit ago. And since it has to do with the military he was going to call Harper Brown.”
Harper Brown was with the DIA, or Defense Intelligence Agency, and she had worked with them on a previous case.
“Good. Anything on Cramer and why she’s important to the Feds?”
“No. I asked him and he said he had come up empty. Boy, the wind really makes it chilly,” said Jamison as she pulled her jean jacket tighter.
“Two days ago you were complaining about the heat.”
“As I recall, it wasn’t just me complaining.”
As they drew closer to the restaurant, Decker said, “So dinner tonight. What am I supposed to do?”
She looked at him, not in surprise, because she had more or less expected this query.
“Well, first of all try to enjoy yourself. It’s been an intense few days, and even you need to recharge your batteries. Next, be supportive of Stan and Caroline. Don’t go in there thinking that she’s trying to replace your sister.”
“And if I say something stupid?”
“Just think about what you’re going to say before you say it.”
“Easy for you to say,” muttered Decker.
An etched bronze sign next to the front door of the restaurant read MADDIE’S. “That’s her mother’s name,” said Jamison.
“No coincidence there, obviously,” replied Decker.
Maddie’s was on the first floor of a restored brick building with a pair of flickering gas lanterns on either side of the polished wood door.
Jamison glanced at the fiery lanterns and quipped, “Great, more methane.”
Dawson and Baker were at the bar having a drink. Baker was dressed like Decker: khakis, white shirt, and a jacket that had seen better days. Dawson was glammed up in a turquoise dress with a leather belt, black tights, and low heels. Her hair was down around her shoulders. They moved over to their table and sat down.
Jamison looked around at the interior space that appeared both brand-new and very old but was fleshed out with thought and in spots even artistry. “Wow, this is really beautiful. Didn’t expect to see something like this here.” She shot Dawson an embarrassed glance. “I didn’t mean it that way, sorry.”
Decker gave her a funny look, leaned over, and whispered, “Think before you say something.”
Dawson smiled in understanding at Jamison’s remark. “No, I get that. This is actually my baby.”
“What?” exclaimed Jamison.
Baker grinned and said, “She runs the whole place, not her dad.”
“We spoke to your father,” said Decker.
“Why did you need to talk to him?”
“Just routine questioning.”
“So this is really your restaurant?” said Jamison, deftly changing the subject.
“My dad technically owns it but I worked out the financials, did the planning, the build-out, the hiring, everything from the utensil choices to the drapes to the types of gin in the bar. The place has a website and a social media platform, and we also cater and do special events.”
Jamison stared around the crowded space. “Well, if this is any indication, you’ve got a real winner.”
“We’re booked up for the next three months, in fact. It’s pretty much the only fine dining choice in town. I got the chef from Napa Valley.”
Baker added with a ch
uckle, “We only got a table tonight because she owns the place.”
She laughed and gripped his big hand. “Thing is, my dad thought I was crazy. He said don’t try to make this town into something it’s not.”
“Meaning?” said Decker.
“My father will always see London as a one-horse place that will never rise above that status. Even with all the wealth being generated by the fracking. But I see things differently. I think we’re past the boom and bust cycles. People aren’t just coming here to work and get rich and then get out. They’re coming to stay. I know the weather can be a real challenge, but it is in lots of places. And warmer spots are a short flight away. The point is, if you have nice things here people will want to stay and put down roots. And North Dakotans are nice people. Salt-of-the-earth types.”
“I’m a Midwesterner,” said Decker. “So I agree with that.”
“And with the money that’s here now, people can both afford and appreciate the amenities and service like I’ve tried to offer here.”
“I think it’s terrific,” said Jamison.
Baker raised his glass. “To terrific things.” He nodded at Dawson. “And terrific people.”
After they ordered their dinners Dawson asked about the investigation. “I heard there was another murder and that Hal Parker went missing.”
“That’s right. Pamela Ames. She used to live at the Brothers’ Colony,” said Jamison.
“But why would someone have wanted to kill her?” asked Baker.
“Could be wrong place, wrong time, if Parker was the target.”
“But why would he be a target?” asked Dawson.
Decker said, “Did either of you know Pamela Ames?”
Baker shook his head, but Dawson said, “I worked with Milton Ames on some business matters. I knew Pamela was his daughter, but I wasn’t friends with her.”
“But why was Ames at Hal Parker’s in the first place?” asked Baker.
“They might have known each other,” said Jamison vaguely, shooting a glance at Decker. Shifting gears, she said to Dawson, “We went to see your father at his home. It’s beautiful.”
“After Mom died, we both needed something to occupy our minds. Since we weren’t moving to France without her, I decided building a new home for Dad would be a good thing. Give him something to focus on. He loves getting into the details. He just finished it. Took nearly two years with crews working around the clock.”
Walk the Wire Page 17
