When the Dead Speak

Chapter 57

Chapter 57

"I wish you had called first, Detective." Mrs. Leland led Frank down the tiled hallway to Parker Smith's room. Her uniform fit snugly over her robust figure. Frank could hear the sound of her nylons rubbing together as her inner thigh's collided.

"I did call. The front desk told me Parker Smith was a resident here at Shady Pine Nursing Home."

She made a face that said likely story. "If you had asked his condition, we would have told you Mister Smith had a stroke three years ago. He hasn't spoken a word. I don't know how you plan to question him."

They stepped into the sterile room. A poor attempt had been made to give the room some semblance of home-floral paintings, potted plants, a quilt thrown over a rocker. Nurse Leland walked over to the picture window and turned the wand on the mini-blinds to let in more sunlight.

"I don't know why the nurse's aide closes these blinds. Sunlight rejuvenates a person." She motioned with her arms as though pumping iron. "Now, Mister Smith. How are you doing today?" Her voice had increased in volume when she spoke. Walking over to the frail figure lying on the bed, she said, "You have color in your cheeks. Yes, you do." She plumped up his pillow, cranked his bed to where he was more upright. "You have a visitor." She motioned toward Frank.

Parker Smith showed no response. His glassy eyes stared straight ahead. The thin blanket covering him rose and fell with each breath.

"He's not on a respirator?" Frank asked. He saw the wires leading to a machine that registered his heart rate and blood pressure.

"He eats, breathes. We've had a therapist work with him on speech, but, no luck. He does have some movement in his right hand. Recognizes his daughter, some days." Looking down at Parker, Nurse Leland said, "I'm going to leave you with Detective Travis for a little bit." She patted Parker's arm and left the room.

Frank studied the man in front of him. The skin lay in folds where his muscles used to fill out his form. His gray hair was cut short. Pale blue eyes seemed bright against his pallid face.

Frank pulled up a chair and introduced himself. He watched for a telltale reaction as he mentioned Hap Wilson's name and Mushima Valley. There wasn't a twitch, no flicker behind his vacant stare, no hint that Parker was understanding, much less hearing, what Frank was saying.

A cart rolled along the corridor stopping in front of the room. Visitors talked quietly as they passed, some pushing relatives in wheelchairs.

Frank stood up and pulled Hap's pin out of his pocket. He held it up in front of Parker's eyes, let the sunlight glisten off the shiny metal.

"Have you seen this pin before, Mister Smith?"

He thought he saw Parker's right finger twitch. The monitor on the cart next to the bed showed an increase in Parker's heart rate.

Second's later, Nurse Leland came running in. "Is everything okay in here?"

Frank slipped the pin back into his pocket. "Sure. I did notice a change in his heart rate."

"You betcha. The damn machine lit up like a Christmas tree." She watched the monitor. "I don't like the way his blood pressure is rising, though. I think you better leave now. This is a little too much excitement for one day."

Moments after Frank left, Nurse Leland watched in awe as Parker started to cry uncontrollably. He emitted no sounds. His good arm shook, his hand clenched the side of the bed. His heart rate reached one hundred and ten. She made a frantic call to Doctor Chan, who prescribed a mild sedative.

An hour later when Nurse Leland checked on Parker Smith, she noticed he had pulled a pen off the nightstand and scrawled a simple note on his bed sheet. It said,

CALL NOLAND