The Fallen

by David Baldacci

  He observed that she mixed, poured, and served myriad drinks with a practiced hand, all the while talking it up with patrons and managing tabs. Decker had basically lived in bars after his family had been murdered. He knew a pro when he saw one.

  “You want some company?”

  He looked up to see Lassiter standing there with a beer in hand.

  Decker didn’t really want company and was about to say that when Lassiter, apparently taking his silence for assent, sat down across from him.

  She had on a navy blue skirt, a white blouse, and a matching jacket. He saw her holstered service pistol under the open fold of her coat.

  “How’s Jamison holding up?”

  “She’s hanging in there. Helping Amber. One of her sisters arrived in town. I think Frank’s family will be in tomorrow.”

  “And are you still investigating?”

  “It’s what I do.”

  “Care to share? You did promise to keep us in the loop.”

  The waitress brought Decker’s beer and he ordered some food. He took a few sips before answering Lassiter.

  “It’s mostly speculation.”

  “I’ll take that. By the way, Marty told me about the trailer. You two were lucky. He also said you thought you might be getting closer.”

  “Maybe. Have you made any progress?” asked Decker.

  “We’re both working it, but nothing’s shaking loose.”

  “Same with me,” said a voice.

  They both looked up to see Agent Kate Kemper standing there with a gin and tonic topped with a lime.

  Decker said, “So is this the local watering hole for all cops?”

  Kemper sat down. “Not that many choices. So why don’t we share info?”

  Decker said, “According to both of you, you’ve got nothing to share.”

  “I tend toward hyperbole,” said Kemper.

  He looked at Lassiter. “And do you tend toward bullshit too?”

  “Depends on the situation.”

  Decker sat back. “Michael Swanson was staying in John Baron’s potting shed and he knew it. Baron also was sweethearts with Joyce Tanner in high school and he was helping her out financially up until she died. He was also into mythology, which might tie into the Thanatos mark on Costa’s forehead, and Tanner taught Bible school, which might explain the biblical verse on the wall behind where she was killed.”

  Lassiter looked surprised. “How do you know all this?”

  He gave her a severe look. “I investigated.”

  Kemper said, “I know my jurisdiction doesn’t extend to these local murders, but if they’re connected to my case I want to know about it. So this Baron guy knows two of the four dead vics. What about the other two?”

  “He says he doesn’t know them.”

  “He says he doesn’t,” noted Lassiter.

  “Why didn’t he come forward when Tanner and Swanson were killed?” asked Kemper.

  “If he killed them, the answer to your question is obvious,” replied Decker.

  “Did he ever mention knowing my guys?” asked Kemper.

  “I didn’t ask him, because I didn’t want to reveal that information,” said Decker.

  “Since Tanner was found with Babbot and Swanson with Costa, that would mean if Baron was behind it, he killed all four,” observed Lassiter.

  “And if he didn’t kill them?” said Kemper. “Why not come forward?”

  Decker said, “The town hates him. I doubt he would want to get scapegoated for something he didn’t do.”

  Lassiter snapped, “That’s not how we do things here, Decker.”

  He looked at her. “I know about your father.”

  Lassiter’s eyes widened.

  “What about your dad?” said Kemper.

  Decker looked at Lassiter. “You want to do the honors?”

  “Why? What does it have to do with anything?”

  Decker said, “He was convicted of burning down a home with a banker inside. A banker who’d foreclosed on his house after he lost his job at a company founded by the Barons.”

  “Again, it’s not relevant,” said Lassiter.

  “It is, because you and this whole town have a grudge against the Barons, so don’t try to sugarcoat it and say that no one here might have it in for him.”

  Kemper was about to say something when Decker’s food arrived: a thick steak, rare, fries, and a small salad.

  “Why bother with the salad?” noted Kemper wryly.

  “Veggies are important, and technically fries are potatoes.”

  As he ate Kemper said, “So do you have anything else to share?”

  “Toby Babbot was injured on the construction site for the Maxus Fulfillment Center. And he had a piece of graph paper in his trailer. It had marks on it from the paper he’d made drawings on.”

  “Drawings of what?” asked Kemper.

  “The fulfillment center construction plans.”

  “Wait a minute, where did you find that?” asked Lassiter.

  “In his trailer.”

  “And you didn’t tell us this why?”

  “I didn’t know what it was until a short time ago.”

  Kemper said, “Why construction plans?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he was thinking of suing Maxus, although you’d think he would have done it by now. But I talked with Betsy O’Connor, his last roommate. She said Babbot had a beef with Maxus and talked about getting even with them.”

  Lassiter took a swig of her beer and smacked the glass on the table. “I came to you for answers and now all I have are a ton more questions.”

  “Anything else?” asked Kemper.

  “The plane I saw on the night I found the bodies?”

  “You’re not going to tell me that was a drug runner’s plane landing in western PA,” said Kemper.

  “No, I’m telling you there was no plane that night.”

  Both women looked puzzled.

  Kemper said, “I don’t understand. Are you saying you didn’t see a plane?”

  “No. I think it was a drone.” He explained his conversation with Dan Bond, and that he had confirmed no flights had gone anywhere near Baronville that night.

  Lassiter looked chagrined. “When I went to interview him, I didn’t ask Bond about the plane you said you saw because I didn’t think it was important.”

  “Neither did I. I just happened to mention it to him. Goes to show that simply assuming something is true is never good enough.”

  “A drone?” said Kemper. “What would it be doing on that street?”

  Decker looked at her. “Remember we were speculating that your two agents had set up a surveillance nest at the house next to the one where their bodies were found?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, maybe that drone was doing surveillance too.”

  “On what?” asked Lassiter.

  Decker didn’t answer.

  “Do you know?” asked Kemper.

  Decker had finished his meal while they had been talking. He was looking over Kemper’s shoulder at the bar. It had emptied and Cindi was serving only two customers.

  Decker dropped a twenty on the table and rose. “I gotta go.” He walked toward the bar, leaving Lassiter and Kemper to stare openmouthed at each other.

  Lassiter said, “He’s a piece of work.”

  Kemper stared after him. “Yeah, but I get the feeling we should never, ever underestimate the guy.”

  Chapter 43

  YOU’RE BACK?”

  Cindi slid a coaster in front of Decker at the bar.

  “Like a bad penny.”

  “What can I get you?” she asked.

  “Let me have your best IPA.”

  She looked dubious. “Beer’s in the eye of the beholder.”

  “I trust your judgment.”

  She bent down and pulled out a bottle of beer from a small fridge under the bar.

  Decker studied her. She was wearing a black shirt with the top button undone, allowing a glimpse of a
tan bra and cleavage. Her jeans were snug and her hair bounced over her athletic shoulders.

  He assumed the peekaboo shirt and tight pants were all about tips, and he didn’t fault her for that. Guys who sat at bars were mostly simple creatures, just dying to be manipulated by a pretty lady.

  She poured the beer into a mug and slid it across to him.

  “Try that.”

  He took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “You know your beers.”

  She smiled and wiped down the bar in front of him.

  “So why the Mercury Bar?” he asked. “Into Greek mythology?”

  “No, my dad was a big Orson Welles fan. You know, the Mercury Radio Theatre I think it was called, or something like that. And Mercury is part of Roman mythology, not Greek. Hermes was Mercury’s Greek counterpart.”

  “My mistake,” said Decker.

  She studied him. “Why do I think you already knew that? You probing for something?”

  “Maybe. You seen John lately?”

  “Which John? I know lots.”

  “Baron.”

  “No, why?”

  “Just wondering. You two buds?”

  “He comes in for drinks. If that makes us buds, I got lots of buds in this town.”

  “When I was in here the other night I just thought there was something more there.”

  Cindi stopped wiping down the bar, pulled out a bottle of water from under the counter, and took a swig. “Why do you care?”

  Decker shrugged. “I’ve gotten to know Baron a little bit. I think he’s okay. I’d hate for him to get messed up in any of this.”

  Cindi put the bottle of water down and picked up her cloth again. When a customer caught her eye and lifted his glass for a refill, she said to Decker, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

  He held up his beer in answer and took another drink.

  A minute later she returned and said, “I’ve got another bartender coming in at ten. You want to talk then?”

  “Works for me.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “John is a good guy.”

  “It’s nice to be right.”

  “So, messed up in what?”

  “Ten o’clock,” he replied.

  * * *

  At the stroke of ten Cindi handed the bartending over to someone else and motioned to Decker to join her at the back of the bar.

  “My car’s parked in back.”

  “Mine’s in front.”

  “I’ll drive you back here. It’s not that far.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my place.”

  “You sure that’s wise?”

  “Are you?” she shot back.

  They climbed into a midnight black Toyota Land Cruiser.

  “Nice ride,” he said. “And not cheap.”

  “I get good tips and good deals on cars.”

  She drove them to a large brick building on the edge of downtown. As they traveled, Decker could see a number of renovation projects under way.

  “Baronville making a comeback?” he asked.

  “In parts,” she said cryptically.

  They arrived at an underground parking garage and she pulled into a numbered space. They took an elevator up to the top floor. Cindi opened the door to her place and motioned Decker in.

  She said, “This was an old textile mill. Renovated to luxury condos.”

  “Yeah, I know, I’ve been here.”

  “When?”

  He gave her a quick glance. “When I came to check out Bradley Costa’s apartment. He lived here too.”

  “That’s right, he did,” she said casually.

  He looked at the sleek furniture, expensive-looking rugs, and stainless steel kitchen appliances set against exposed brick walls. In a far corner was a well-appointed exercise area with dumbbells, a chin-up bar, a rack of slam and medicine balls, an elliptical, a Peloton bike, and other machines that seemed designed to strengthen as well as torture.

  “No wonder you’re in such good shape,” he said.

  “It doesn’t just happen,” she said. “Gotta work for it.”

  As Decker looked around at the expensive trappings he said, “Your tips must be really good.”

  “It’s not just tips. I actually own the Mercury.”

  “Yeah, I heard that. Inherited from your old man?”

  “That’s right.”

  He watched as she took off the jean jacket she had put on and hung it on a metal coat rack parked next to the front door.

  “What are you, twenty-two?”

  “I’m flattered. I’m actually almost thirty.”

  “About the same age as my partner. Still pretty young to own your own bar.”

  “Well, like you pointed out, I inherited.”

  “But you’ve obviously been successful on your own. I take it you’re a good businesswoman.”

  “My dad was a good teacher.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He died.”

  “Yeah, that I get. I mean how?”

  “Heart attack.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “You want a drink?’

  “I think I hit my limit. You got a soda?”

  She slid open a refrigerated drawer and tossed him a bottle of water. “It’s better for you.”

  She poured out three fingers of Bombay Sapphire, cut it with tonic, and added a slice of lemon, a wedge of lime, and three chunky ice cubes taken from an under-the-counter icemaker.

  She tapped her glass against his plastic bottle.

  “And is that better for you?” he asked, indicating her cocktail.

  “I don’t drink on the job, bar owner 101. But I do like one drink before I go to bed. And I’m a blue bottle gin lady.”

  She took off her shoes and curled up on the couch in front of the kitchen area, motioning Decker to sit down in the chair across from her.

  He did so and drank some of his water while he eyed her.

  “I take it you were born here?”

  “You take it wrong. I was born in Philly.”

  “And yet your father came here and owned a bar? And by the time you came along the bloom was well off Baronville. So why exchange the City of Brotherly Love for this place?”

  She shrugged. “I was only one year old and just came along for the ride, apparently.” She added, “Okay, full disclosure, my mom was from here. They met in college. He always wanted to run a bar. The opportunity came up here, and presto, there you go. Sometimes that’s all you need for a major life change: a dream.”

  “Where’s your mom?”

  “Good question.”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Here today, gone tomorrow. She left when I was little and I haven’t seen her since.”

  “That’s tough.”

  “Not that tough. My dad was great at being a single parent.”

  “Do you remember your mom?”

  “Not really. I was too young. I guess that’s a good thing. How can you miss someone you never really knew?”

  “I suppose so.”

  She sipped her drink. “So, what’s going on with John? Is he in any sort of trouble?”

  “You seem very concerned about a guy who’s just a customer among many others.”

  “He’s a very good customer. And a good guy who takes all sorts of crap that he doesn’t deserve.”

  “I sort of got that impression at the bar that night.”

  “Those guys were morons who don’t know any better. But there are many here who do know better. Or at least they should.”

  “I’ve met some of them.” Decker shifted his bulk in the chair. “You know about the murders?”

  “What’s that got to do with John?”

  “He knew at least two of the four victims. One of them lived on his property.”

  “Okay, so? Could be a coincidence.”

  “I’m a cop.”

  “And that means what?”

  “That I don’t believe in
coincidence.”

  “Well, what if I told you that I knew all four of the victims?”

  “Because they came to your bar?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Even Toby Babbot, who I understood was off the sauce?”

  “I do serve food at the Mercury, as you well know, having eaten there tonight.”

  “And since you’re one of the few places like that in Baronville, it’s not surprising that they all went there. But you didn’t live with one of them, did you? You weren’t high school sweethearts with one of them, were you?”

  “I always thought Mike Swanson was kind of cute. And Brad did live in this building.”

  “Did you ever talk to him apart from when he was at the bar?”

  “I actually think he had a thing for me.”

  “Did he ever act on that?”

  “I sort of gave him the vibe that it would be futile if he did. I mean, he was okay, but I’m not into the stiff banker types. Too corporate for my bohemian tastes. I gave out subtle hints and he stopped trying.”

  “He had a photo of you and him in his office.”

  She seemed surprised by this. “Did he? From where?”

  “Some business event, his secretary said.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember now. He had a cocktail party about six months ago. Invited me and a bunch of other local business owners. There was a photographer there.”

  “That explains it,” said Decker.

  She sipped her drink. “So, I probably knew all four and I lived in the same building as one of them. Does that mean I’m not a coincidence and that I’m in the same mess John is?”

  “You ever been up to the mansion on the hill?”

  “Why?”

  “Just curious.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t remember.”

  “Okay, a few times,” she admitted.

  “Baron is pretty bohemian.” He waited to hear her response.

  “I admit I find him interesting.”

  “I think he’s very interesting. I’m just trying to figure out if he’s also a killer.”

  “I don’t think he’d hurt a fly.”

  “I don’t care if he hurts flies.”

  She smiled at the remark. “John thinks you’re very interesting.”

  “He told you that?”