Progeny by E. H. Reinhard Page A

lobby lay before us. The carpet was gray flowers. The guest chairs were pinstriped red and green. A small table stood in the center of the room. Filling the air was a unique smell, which I assumed to be a mix of old-woman perfume, cafeteria food, and cleaning supplies. The reception desk was ahead of us to our left. Hank and I walked over.
    The woman working the front counter gave us a look and smiled. “How can I help you today?”
    “Lieutenant Kane and Sergeant Rawlings to see Penny Bell,” I said.
    “Sure, one moment. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
    “Thanks,” I said.
    The receptionist left from behind the desk. Hank and I stood at the front counter in silence while we waited.
    A few minutes later, a middle-aged, dark-haired woman came from the doorway behind the front counter. She wore a pink blouse under a dark-gray blazer with matching slacks. A charm necklace hung from her neck—the bracelet around her left wrist matched.
    “I’m Penny. You’re the officers wanting to know about Mister Pullman?” she asked.
    “Correct,” I said.
    She opened the small gate and let herself out from behind the front desk. “Why don’t you come with me.” She waved for us to follow her down the hall.
    We did.
    “I’m going to take you to speak with Janet Crowe. She is Mister Pullman’s caregiver. She’ll be able to help you with whatever you need to know, as well as give you access to his apartment.”
    “We appreciate it,” Hank said.
    She walked us to the end of the hall and turned left. Halfway down the next hall, she opened a door leading outside. We followed her out into a courtyard at the back of the building. To our left were a couple of wicker tables with tan umbrellas shooting up from the centers. A few older folks sat around them, and some staff milled about in the background. She continued past them.
    “Here’s Janet up here,” she said. Penny pointed out a thin woman in a lab coat with her back toward us. She stood at the crest of a small hill overlooking a fountain in the property’s pond. The woman’s hands rested on the push handles of a wheelchair.
    “Janet?” Penny asked.
    The woman turned toward us. She had brown shoulder-length hair. Under her white coat was a light-blue shirt. A smiley-face button was pinned to the pocket of her lab jacket. I put her in her late twenties.
    “Yes?” she said.
    “These are the two officers that wanted to speak about Mister Pullman.”
    We walked up and stopped at the woman, standing behind an old man in the wheelchair. He never turned his head to look at us. His attention was focused on the pond and the water birds pecking for fish.
    “Oh, okay,” she said. “Um, Penny, did you want to sit with Walter here? He has another half hour until it’s time for his meds.”
    “Sure,” Penny said.
    Janet leaned toward the old man. “I’ll see you in a bit, Walter. You watch your birds.”
    The man didn’t respond.
    Janet left him to Penny’s supervision and approached us. “I’m Janet Crowe, Henry Pullman’s caregiver.”
    “Lieutenant Carl Kane,” I said. “This here is Sergeant Hank Rawlings.”
    Hank nodded.
    She pointed toward one of the unoccupied covered wicker tables a few feet away. “Why don’t we sit and talk,” she said.
    We followed her over and took a seat. I slid my notepad and pen from the pocket of my suit jacket.
    “Ms. Crowe, what can you tell us about the disappearance of Mr. Pullman? Has this sort of thing happened with him before?”
    She shook her head. “Never. He’s never left the property without his daughter. He didn’t have a car to leave in, and we have staff at the front. Someone would have seen him leave if he tried walking out.”
    “When was the last time he was accounted for?” Hank asked.
    “He was at our nightly Bingo game Wednesday night. That wraps up around five thirty. It couldn’t have been more than a half hour later that I was at his apartment to give him his nightly breathing treatment. I