Pam Buttons inspected the lone chair as if checking for mold and finally settled, facing us. Touching one of the energy bars with a fingertip, she smiled. “My brand. You investigated me?”
“That’s us, thorough,” said Milo. “Nope, lucky break. First of all, I want to apologize for the response you got from Detective Pocan.”
“Forget it,” said Pam Buttons. “There’s deadweight in every organization. Fortunately that doesn’t include David, our receptionist. We’ve got her listed as Lynne Gutierrez, not Matthias, but when David heard ‘Lynne’ he notified me. I knew her mother’s name is Matthias and put it together immediately.”
Milo scrawled in his pad.
Pam Buttons said, “I’m assuming Gutierrez is her father.”
“Was. Her mother’s first husband,” said Milo. “Deceased.”
I flashed back to Martha’s marital history. Remarried with no time to spare after Pablo Gutierrez’s death. Maybe an affair, maybe wanting someone to help her care for a child with special needs.
Maybe both.
Pam Buttons said, “Whatever. Now can you please tell me what’s going on?”
“Lynne’s mother was murdered.”
Pam Buttons’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God,thatI wasn’t expecting. I’ve been worried Lynne was a victim of something. Which is why I agreed to come here. Also, my dad is a retired deputy sheriff. When I told him about getting nowhere with you guys, he said don’t push it anymore but on the off chance someone does call be cooperative.”
“Appreciate your dad,” said Milo. “So what can you tell us about Lynne?”
“You don’t seriously think she could’ve done it.”
“We don’t know enough to think anything, Ms. Buttons, but we want to talk to her. What’s she like?”
Pam Buttons thought for a moment. “Quiet, no problems. Our approach is problem prevention so we try to select residents unlikely to pose any serious issues. And Lynne’s been there for—I guess decades, and has never caused a disturbance. Safe Place is her home. She has her own room and keeps it beautifully.”
“Well behaved.”
“Always. That’s the rule when it comes to our residents, not the exception. We’re not a clinic, we don’t administer any kind of medication or formal treatment. We’re a home for otherwise well-adjusted delayed individuals without alternatives.”
I said, “People with no family.”
“No family or a family unable to take care of them. They get nutritious meals plus ample snacks, TV, content-protected internet, and, if they want, classes. Crafts, exercise, music. I teach crocheting.”
Injecting some lilt into her voice as she recited. A walking brochure.
I said, “The residents are free to come and go as they please.”
“Exactly, they’re residents, not inmates. For their security, thedoors are locked from the outside but callers ring in and are evaluated. Or they can text.”
“The residents have cellphones.”
“Those whose families fund cellphones do.”
“Did that include Lynne?”
“No,” she said. “I learned that when I tried to locate her.”
Milo said, “They don’t find being out by themselves scary?”
“Residents who are anxious don’t leave. Others take guided outings with relatives.”
“Lynne was relaxed enough to go solo.”
“She came and went successfully so I’d assume so.” Buttons fooled with her hair.
