Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [42]
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 displeasure. “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 intimidating, 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