Long Shadows

Chapter 62

They later had some dinner at the hotel and it was well past dark when Decker steered the car back to Cummins’s house. They parked in front and got out. Doris Kline’s house was still dark and there was no sign of her car.

White said, “You want to talk to Trevor Perlman?”

“I’m not sure what else he could tell us that his wife couldn’t. Let’s go through Cummins’s house again. Something might pop.”

He unlocked the police lock on the front door and they went inside.

Decker immediately held up his hand and looked around.

White had heard it, too. Someone was inside the house.

They both pulled their weapons. Decker pointed up the stairs, where the noise seemed to be coming from.

They slowly made their way up, stopping at each riser to listen. When they reached the second-floor landing, Decker eased his head around the wall.

He whispered to White, “There’s a light on in Cummins’s bedroom.”

She nodded.

As they edged down the hall the noises became clearer.

Decker glanced in confusion at White.

It sounded like someone sobbing.

They reached the doorway leading into the bedroom, Decker on the right, White on the left. The door was partially closed.

Decker held up three fingers, then lowered them one by one. With the drop of the final finger, he kicked open the door and they surged inside, their guns arcing in front of them.

And then coming to hold on the man sitting on the bed.

Barry Davidson was the source of the sobs.

They did not lower their pistols, because Davidson also had a gun in one hand and a bottle of scotch in the other.

He looked up at them in bewilderment.

“What th-the f-fuck are you doing h-here?”

“Mr. Davidson,” said Decker, “we need you to put that gun down, right now.”

Davidson glanced at the gun, his expression one as though he were seeing the weapon for the first time and wondering how it had gotten in his hand.

“I-it’s m-my gun. B-bought and p-paid for.”

“I’m sure, but guns and liquor don’t really mix,” said White.

“It’s my g-gun.”

“Put it down,” said Decker.

“O-only had one l-little d-drink.”

“I think it was more than one. But let’s talk about it. After you put the gun down.”

“This is m-my h-house. Can b-be here if... if I want t-to.”

“Let’s talk about it, downstairs. After you put the gun down.”

Instead Davidson lifted the gun and placed the muzzle next to his cheek.

“You don’t want to do that, Barry,” warned Decker, the imagined images of Mary Lancaster in her final moments lurching back into his head.

“J-Julia’s gone. G-gone. G-got nothing l-left. Wh-what’s it m-matter? You tell me.”

His finger edged closer to the trigger.

Decker said, “You have Tyler, you have your son left. You going to leave him all alone? Is that what a father does? Leave his teenager to pick up the pieces?”

Davidson looked up at Decker, maybe seeing him for the first time.

“T-Tyler deserves b-better than me.”

“But you’re all he has left. So give me the gun and we can talk about it.”

Davidson didn’t move the gun, but his finger did slip away from the trigger. He shook his head stubbornly. “Y-you think I k-killed her.”

“We never said that.”

“I know you do!” shouted Davidson. “D-don’t lie to me.”

“We’re just doing our job, investigating lots of things and people.”

“Wh-who else then? Huh? You’re lying. Nobody else. Nobody else.” He dipped his head.

“There’s Dennis Langley. You know about him, right?”

Davidson looked up once more. “L–Langley?”

“You met him, right? At the French bistro. You were there for Tyler’s birthday.”

Davidson slowly nodded. “Why him?”

“He was dating Julia.”

Davidson smiled. “H-he’s a shitty golfer. S-seen him play. Swings his club l-like a f-fucking a-axe.”

“I bet. Let’s go downstairs now and we can fill you in on our investigation.”

“Dad!”

They turned to see Tyler standing there drenched in sweat.

“T-Tyler?”

“Dad, what are you doing with that gun?”

“M-my gun.”

Tyler stepped forward. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go home. Where are your keys? I’ll drive you back. Come on. It’s late.”

He took the gun from him, and helped his father off the bed.

“Let’s go.”

White scooted forward and secured the gun.

As they half-carried Davidson down the stairs, Decker said, “How did you know he was here, Tyler?”

“I was riding my bike and saw his car parked on the side of the road about five hundred feet from the entrance. I figured he was here. He’d just walked around through the golf course side to avoid the gate.”

“Why wouldn’t he just drive through the gate?”

“I think his electronic pass was expired, or something,” Tyler replied, not looking at Decker.

“Expired?”

“Or something, look, I’m not really sure.”

The two of them got Davidson out to the rental car and loaded him in, as White got into the driver’s seat.

“We’ll drive you to his car and you can take him from there,” said Decker. “Where’s your bike?”

“It’s foldable, so I put it in the back of my dad’s car. He left it unlocked.”

“We can follow along if you need help getting him into the condo building.”

“I’m fine. Won’t be the first time I’ve carried my dad inside,” said Tyler, looking embarrassed.

After Tyler drove off in the Mercedes with his father lying down in the back seat, Decker turned to White. “We need to run ballistics on the gun.”

“You don’t think...?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I want to run the test. And there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Tyler said his father parked his car off the road and slipped into the neighborhood through the golf course side to avoid the gate.”

“Meaning he could have done the same the night of the murder. But his car didn’t leave the garage that night, and he has an alibi.”

“He could have borrowed or rented a car. And maybe Tyler isn’t as sure of the times that night as he said he was.”

“You think he’s covering for his dad?”

“His dad is the only thing he has left.”

“But at least we know one thing for certain.”

“What’s that?” said Decker.

“The man was clearly lying when he said he was over his ex-wife.”