“Well, there were only two other people on the street. Martin and Ross. Both were probably in bed at midnight.”
“How about the DEA agent across the street?” asked Decker.
Green said, “Kemper lifted that surveillance yesterday. They finished processing that scene and the one next door where you shot Brian Collins. We don’t have the manpower to keep a guy idle like that. So there was no one on patrol duty.”
Lassiter said, “The killer must’ve been watching and knew there was no cop present. Then he goes and does the deed.”
Green said, “But why the old blind guy? Why would anyone target him? He couldn’t have seen anything.”
“But he could hear things,” said Decker. “He knew there wasn’t a plane flying over that night. It was his suggestion that it might have been a drone.”
Green popped some gum into his mouth. “Donna mentioned your theory about that. You think he might have told someone else what he told you? And that person might have killed him?”
“It’s possible. I can’t think of another reason why someone would want to murder him. He’s not the sort who would have a lot of enemies. Was there any sign of robbery?”
“No. I don’t think he had much to steal.”
“When I went there to interview him Bond had to open three door locks. I don’t think he would have left his door open.”
“So someone had a key,” said Lassiter.
“Or he knew his killer and let the person in,” noted Decker. “And based on my experience with Bond, at that time of night, that would take a lot of trust.”
Green snapped, “Are you making any sense out of this?”
“Not yet.”
Green pulled his badge off his belt and threw it down on the porch.
“Why the hell do I even wear this thing if I can’t protect my town?”
Decker bent down, picked up the badge, examined it to make sure it wasn’t dented, and handed it back to Green. “We’re going to get there, Detective,” he said.
“How can you be so sure?” asked Lassiter.
“Because in our line of work, failure is not an option,” replied Decker.
Chapter 50
DECKER WAS SITTING at the table in the Mitchells’ kitchen two days after the funeral.
He’d smoothed out the copies he’d made of the letters he’d found in Stanley Nottingham’s locker back at the senior living center in New Jersey and placed them on the table. There were several of them, but none seemed to contain any information pertaining to a hidden treasure.
He looked at one of them for the fifth time.
Dear Samuel,
I know that things have been estranged between us and that we have not communicated in a long while. But I’m taking up my pen now because I miss you, son. I wish you had not abandoned Baronville, but I know you have your own life to lead. I realize you were never enamored with Master Baron but he treats me very well. Just last year we went on a long journey that included a months-long trek across Australia. He chartered a private ship for our trip, and though the voyage was long, it was fascinating. Though many of the countries that we visited previously were truly unique and fascinating in many ways, I have never seen such a place as Australia in all my life. We toured through the coastal cities, Sydney, Perth, Adelaide, and the acting capital of Melbourne. I heard they are thinking of a new capital at a place called Canberra. We also visited Geelong, Toowoomba, Kalgoorlie, Ballarat, Moliagul, and a dozen other places with equally fanciful names. We saw aborigines, as well as kangaroo and emu, wombats and kookaburras and other wildlife I could never imagine even existed. One of our guides killed a serpent three times as tall as I am. There are grand coral reefs and water that is so clear you can see to the bottom. There are vast mountain ranges and dense rain forests along with massive deserts. The interior of the country, called the outback, is beyond description. It makes England seem a bit dull by comparison, though I am proud to say it is still very much part of the British empire. I believe even the mighty Baron, who is mostly focused on business, relaxed and enjoyed himself. However, I am sad to report that upon our return Master Baron began to feel unwell. I believe the arduous journey was too taxing on him. It is now nearly a year after our return and his robustness has failed to return. He attempts to remain strong but I know him better than anyone else, and I can tell that he is failing. Once he goes, I don’t know what will happen here. He is not enamored with his children, none of whom have his business acumen. He has done so much for them and yet they really are the most ungrateful lot. And, son, to tell the truth, your father is not feeling all that well either. My bones are creaking and my lungs are heavy. I trust that you and the children are doing well. I hope to see you before I’m gone. If not, come and visit my remains, and though hopefully I will be dwelling in a place far above you, one never knows, does one? I might be lurking below. It’s all in God’s hands and I bow to his forgiveness.
Yours truly,
Nigel
Decker put the letter aside. If there was a clue in there he wasn’t seeing it. It was a bit pathetic how Nigel seemed to worship Baron solely because he was wealthy. But then again, lots of people still did that to this day. And Nigel had not been far off the mark about both men’s failing health. The letter was dated only six weeks prior to his and Baron’s deaths.
He looked up when Jamison walked into the room.
She sat down across from him and glanced at the letters.
“Find anything relevant?” she asked.
He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “How are Zoe and your sister?”
“I think it was a good idea to take Zoe back to school today. She needs structure to keep her mind off what happened. I’ll pick her up later. Amber is at the bank going over some financial things. And she called that lawyer Ted Ross recommended. He’s coming here to meet with her.”
“Good. She needs to make Maxus reach into their deep pockets and pay.”
“I told her that too, and not to sign anything they might send her. And Frank also had life insurance. A half-million-dollar policy, so that will help too. From what she said, it’ll be paid out pretty shortly.”
“Did he have that through work?”
“I think so, yes.”
Decker nodded and looked down at the letters.
“Any idea why Dan Bond might have been killed?” she asked.
“Because of something he might have known about what happened that night.”
“Not something he saw, then, but something he heard?”
Decker nodded. “I did confirm that Fred Ross was at the hospital that night getting checked out. So whatever Bond heard, it had nothing to do with him.”
“Do you think Alice Martin might be targeted next? Whoever killed Bond might be afraid she saw or heard something too.”
“Which is why I asked Green to have a patrol car make regular rounds down her street for now.”
“Good plan,” said Jamison.
Decker rose.
“Where are you going?”
“To the Baronville Historical Society.”
“Everyone left this morning to go back home. You want company?”
“Good to have you back, partner.”
* * *
“Yes, I remember Mr. Costa quite clearly.”
Decker and Jamison were at the historical society speaking with the director, Jane Satterwhite, who was apparently the only employee of the place. She was a dowdy gray-haired woman in her late sixties wrapped in a pink shawl and with granny glasses dangling from a chain.
The society was housed in a drab brick building with abandoned structures on either side of it.
“We have a very rich history in Baronville,” Satterwhite said. “Only we lack the resources to fully tell it.”
She was speaking the truth here, for as Decker and Jamison looked around, the shelves were only half full and the displays looked old and dusty. The entire place had an air of neglect.
“Do you get a lot of visitors
?” asked Jamison.
“No, I’m afraid not. People aren’t interested in history anymore, it seems.”
“Then they’re doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past,” noted Decker.
“Exactly,” said Satterwhite, suddenly animated. “You’ve hit the nail right on the head. Everyone looks to the future for answers, which ignores the fact that people, despite the passage of years, remain fundamentally the same.”
“You were telling us about Bradley Costa?” prompted Jamison.
“Oh, yes. That’s right. A very nice young man. Very interested in our town.”
“Anything in particular?” prompted Jamison.
“Particularly in John Baron. The First, I’m talking about. The one who founded this town.”
“What exactly was he interested in having to do with John Baron?” asked Decker.
Satterwhite led them into another room.
“This is our Baron Room, as I like to call it. Here, we house everything we have about John Baron, from his birth to his death.”
“I understand that he died on the same day as his butler, Nigel Nottingham.”
“Yes, that’s right. Are you an historian too?”
“An amateur one,” lied Decker. “Was Costa interested in that fact?”
“Well, he asked me about it. He wanted to know if we had any correspondence from Nigel. He was the first person ever to ask about that.”
“And did you?” asked Decker.
“No, we didn’t.”
“Did he ask about anything else?”
“Any business correspondence that Baron might have had in the time leading up to his death.”
“And did you have anything like that?” asked Jamison.
“Just one letter.”
She turned to a file cabinet, opened it, and rummaged through its contents. “That’s funny.”
“You can’t find it?” asked Jamison.
“Well, it was right here. Maybe it was put back in the wrong place.” She went through the other drawers, without success.
“Well, that is strange,” she said more to herself than to them. “It’s not here.”
“When was the last time the letter was accessed?” asked Jamison.
“Why, when Mr. Costa was here. But I know that I put it back in here.”
“Could anyone else have gotten to it?”
“Well, I’m the only one here. We do leave the door unlocked during the day, though, so I guess if I’m in the back and someone comes in but doesn’t call out to me, they could come in here without my knowing. But who would do that?”
“Can you tell us what was in the letter?” asked Decker.
“Yes, because I read through it quite thoroughly when I got it out for Mr. Costa. It was nothing special. Baron had written to a company about the construction of another building at his textile mill. It had to do with the purchase of equipment, clay, lots of concrete, brick molds, those sorts of things. I didn’t consider it important, really. It was just business.”
“When was the letter dated?” asked Decker.
“About a year before his death.”
“Was it a local company he was writing to?” asked Jamison.
“No, it was a company from Pittsburgh.”
“Do you remember the name?” asked Jamison.
“Oh, let me think. Yes, that’s right. O’Reilly and Sons. I remember because my mother-in-law’s maiden name was O’Reilly.”
“But I presume Costa was interested in the letter?” said Decker. “Since you pulled it out for him?”
“Well, yes. But that letter was really the only thing I could find about any business correspondence. We mostly had to rely on the Baron family for any such materials, and apparently they either didn’t have much, or else they didn’t want to part with it.”
“Well, thank you for your help,” said Jamison.
As they were walking back to their truck she said, “Well, that’s strange that the letter went missing. Do you think Costa stole it?”
“Maybe. Or maybe someone else did.”
“I wish we had learned more.”
“Well, we have a new question we need an answer to.”
“What?”
“What did Baron the First really use the stuff he ordered for? Because it wasn’t for a textile mill expansion.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because of what Detective Green already told us.”
Chapter 51
WE’RE EXECUTING A search warrant at John Baron’s house if you want to tag along.”
Decker stared blankly at Lassiter as she stood on the front porch of the Mitchells’ house early the next morning.
“Where’s your partner?” he asked.
“Running down some other leads. I’m heading this effort up.”
“Why a search warrant for Baron’s place?” Decker said sleepily. She had phoned him before coming over, which had allowed him to hastily dress and meet her on the porch.
“We have reason to believe he might be involved in the murders,” she said.
“And why is that?” asked Jamison, who had just walked up next to Decker. He had told her about Lassiter’s call. Jamison was still tugging down a sweater she had thrown on and brushed her sleep-tousled hair out of her eyes.
“Based on things your friend here told me,” said Lassiter, indicating Decker.
“Baron knew at least three of the four vics. We know he knew Joyce Tanner and that Swanson was living in his potting shed. But who’s the third?” asked Decker.
“The bank holds the mortgage on Baron’s home. And guess who the bank’s point person on the loan was?”
Jamison said dully, “Bradley Costa.”
“You win the prize.”
“So, he has connections to some of the victims,” said Decker. “I’m sure other people in town do too.”
“And then there’s the Toby Babbot connection. That makes it four for four.”
“What connection?” said Decker sharply.
“I dug up an old arrest report. Toby Babbot was charged with trespassing on Baron’s property.”
“What was he doing up there?” asked Jamison.
“He wouldn’t say when the cops asked him.”
“And Baron knew about this?”
“He was the one who caught Babbot up there and reported it to the police. So Baron knew all four victims.”
“And what’s your theory of the case?” asked Jamison.
“Well, the Costa angle is easy enough. The bank holds the mortgage. And as Decker also told me, Baron was into Greek mythology. Thanatos is the Greek god of death.”
“And Joyce Tanner?”
“He was supporting her financially. He was running out of money. Maybe she had some dirt on him and that was why he was supporting her. So he kills her and writes that biblical crap on the wall about slavery. A financial slave, maybe. And Tanner was into the Bible in high school, something Baron well knew.”
“Don’t you think all of that is a bit of overkill?” said Decker.
“What do you mean?” asked Lassiter.
“Greek symbols, biblical verses, all things that could be traced back to Baron pretty easily. I did it just by looking in a yearbook. And that mortgage has been on his property for a long time. So why go out and kill a banker over it now?”
“Because I learned he recently tried to get the debt refinanced at a lower rate because of cash flow issues, but the bank refused, meaning Costa refused. Consequently, he’s in danger of losing the whole property if he can’t make payments and the bank forecloses.”
Decker looked a little taken aback by these new facts. “That still doesn’t prove he killed the guy. And I still think it’s way too overdone.”
“Killers sometime overthink things, Decker. They make simple complicated. They get too cute.”
“Yes, they do. But Baron does not strike me as that kind of a man. What this looks like to me is someone trying to frame the guy and doing a crappy job of i
t.”
“Well, I’ve arrested people on a lot less, and proved my case.”
“And Babbot?”
“He might have found something up on the Baron estate that made Baron nervous. And I think I might know what that is. And you should too since you found the connection before we did.”
“What?” asked Decker.
“Swanson was a drug dealer. What if he and Baron were in it together? Baron desperately needed money, and I doubt he would care where it came from. But then Swanson wants a bigger cut or maybe gets cold feet and is going to rat Baron out. So Swanson has to die, and so does Babbot if he knew about it. In fact, Babbot might have been buying drugs from them.”
“That’s all speculation,” observed Decker.
“Which is why we’re going to search the property,” said Lassiter. “To get the evidence to prove the speculation is actually true. You in or out?”
“We’re in,” replied Decker, while Jamison looked on worriedly.
* * *
Decker and Jamison followed Lassiter and two police vans up the hill to Baron’s property. It was only seven o’clock in the morning and it was clear that Lassiter wanted to take Baron by surprise.
Decker said, “Baron lied to me. Again. He flat-out told me he didn’t know Costa.”
“Well, maybe they never met. It could have all been through letters or emails.”
“That doesn’t matter. The guy was going to foreclose. That’s a motive for murder and you know it. And he kept that from me.”
“Do you really think Baron was selling drugs with Swanson?”
“I don’t know. A guy lies to me, that taints everything.”
“But you don’t think he really is the killer?”
“I don’t know that he isn’t.”
“But he just seems too…”
“Too what? Nice? Eccentric? Good with magic tricks? That doesn’t cut it, Alex, and you know it.”
Jamison sighed resignedly. “Lassiter looked really happy.”
“Considering her father died in prison because of what she believes the Baron family did to him, she would be.”
“So, nailing the last surviving Baron would be quite the prize for her?”
The Fallen Page 27