“Well, I don’t know. Maybe they could.”
“Granted, they might have, but if they did, because of their age they’re also entitled to some partial reimbursement under Medicare.”
King quickly got it. “So Medicare would have a record of that. But if Mildred didn’t file for that assistance, if she claimed she paid the woman out of her own pocket…”
She finished his thought. “Then her bank records will show that. That’s what Reynolds is checking. When he asked her about payment to the woman to try to get an ID, Mildred waffled badly. He said nothing because he didn’t want her to get suspicious. He has agents watching her street, far enough away so she won’t get her radar up. He doesn’t want her bugging out on us.”
“So if all this is true, she may know who has Bruno.”
As the plane landed and came to a stop, Joan’s phone rang.
“Yes.” She listened for a minute, said thank you, clicked off and turned to King with a smile. “God, the FBI can work miracles sometimes. No Medicare filing, no checks to the caregiver and no cash withdrawals. And the kicker is, Bill Martin had a half-million-dollar life insurance policy. And Mildred is the sole beneficiary. Since Bill Martin had had the insurance policy for years, the FBI didn’t think, by itself, it was a legitimate motive to kill him. After all, she just had to wait a few months and she’d get it anyway when he died. They’re going to pick up Mildred. She made that call to Bruno, probably from a phone booth.”
“I can’t believe she’d kill her husband for money. She seemed so devoted to him.”
“Sean, for all your intelligence and sophistication, sweetie, you really know shit about women.”
CHAPTER
44
WHEN SHE REPORTED to the Secret Service’s field office in Washington, Michelle was told that she’d spend at least the next month chained to a desk.
“I have a couple of weeks of vacation accrued. I want to take it now, please,” she told her superior. He shook his head.
“Why? It’s not like I’m going to have any duties at the desk.”
“Sorry, Mick, it’s coming from higher up than me.”
“Walter Bishop?”
“Sorry, can’t say.”
She went straight to Bishop’s office to confront him. What did she have to lose?
His first words were not encouraging. “Get out!” he barked.
“Two weeks of vacation, Walter. I’m due it and I want to take it.”
“You’ve got to be joking. I want you right here where I can keep an eye on you.”
“I’m not a child. I don’t need watching.”
“Consider yourself lucky. And a piece of advice: stay away from Sean King.”
“What, now you’re picking my friends?”
“Friends? People keep dying around him. You almost got killed.”
“So did he!”
“Really. That’s not what I heard. He got a bump on the head. You almost got your neck wrung off.”
“You’re way off base, Walter.”
“You know, when Ritter was killed, there were rumors King was paid off to look the other way.”
“And then to kill the assassin. How does that make sense?”