Long Shadows

Chapter 9

T​he security guard at the gate was waiting for them when they returned to Cummins’s house. He held up some printed-out pages.

“Here you go, everybody from the last twenty-four hours.”

Andrews reached for the pages but Decker’s arm was longer and he got to it first.

“Thanks. Can you give us a summary? With some local color?”

The guard said, “Well, we obviously had lots of people who live here come and go. They don’t have to sign in.”

“But I saw there are electronic tags on some of the cars with the name of this development on them. So there should be a record of homeowners coming and going, right?”

“They’re in that stack I just gave you.”

“Thanks. The summary?”

“Oh, well, there were well over a hundred visitors’ cars during that period of time.”

“Is that a lot, a little, right on target?” asked Decker.

“It’s a little high, but that was because of the golf tournament.”

“That was played yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“And what documentation do visitors need to get through the gate?”

“They have to be on the guest list, called in by a homeowner, or have a temp pass. The contractors go that route usually, though some of them who come really frequently have permanent gate passes.”

“What form do these permanent passes take?”

“Form? I don’t understand.”

“Do they have the electronic strips on their windshields that trigger the gate like the homeowners do, are they paper on the dashboard, or what?”

“Well, they can be either/or, actually.”

“So the paper ones will have no record of who was actually coming and going?”

“No. I mean, we don’t keep a list, we just check to make sure the paper pass is still valid. And we keep a count of vehicles coming through. And contractors are supposed to be gone by six p.m.,” he added.

“What if a car or truckload of people comes in? Do you do a head count to see how many come in on paper or electronic passes?” Decker asked.

“What?” said the guard, looking confused.

“He means,” said White, “if five people come through the gate in one vehicle, do you make sure the same five people go out in that same vehicle?”

“Um...”

“So the answer is no,” said Decker, eyeing the papers in his hand like they were dung.

“Right.”

“And guests who come in after hours?”

“They have to use the call box to phone an off-site security service that will check to see if they’re on the list.”

“And people who bike and walk up here?”

“Well, they’re usually homeowners or their guests.”

“So you only check vehicles?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Is there camera surveillance here?”

“Um, yeah, but the cameras keep breaking down. Salt air, I guess. But this is a really safe place.”

Decker sighed. “Not anymore it’s not. Did you see anyone who looked suspicious or who previously asked about the judge or otherwise seemed nervous or out of place?”

“No, but you should check with the off-site service, too.”

“We will,” Andrews assured him. “Thanks.”

The man got back into his white Honda with SECURITY stenciled on the side and drove off.

“The security situation here is not as good as the residents probably think it is,” noted White.

“It’s also typical for this type of gated community,” said Andrews. “The super-rich have whole other layers of sophisticated protection.”

“Too bad for the merely rich,” said Decker. “Let’s go talk to the ex and the kid.”

“They’re waiting for us at their condo.”

“Kline said it was about two miles from here,” Decker said.

“That’s right,” replied Andrews.

White said, “And the ex has a security strip on his car, presumably.”

“If so, and he came here last night, it should be in those records,” noted Andrews. “Which I think I should keep charge of.”

Decker glanced at White before handing the batch of papers over to Andrews. “Knock yourself out.”

“You can ride over with me,” said Andrews. “I can bring you back here after the interview. Where are you staying?” He led them over to his Lexus.

“DoubleTree,” replied White. “We haven’t checked in yet.”

“It’s not that far. Has a nice restaurant.”

“How well do you know Barry Davidson?” asked Decker.

“Look, if you’re trying to get me knocked off this case because of some made-up conflict—” snapped Andrews.

“The only thing I’m trying to do,” cut in Decker, “is solve this case. If you have any helpful information?”

Andrews glanced at White, who said, “We’re not in a competition, Agent Andrews. If the positions were reversed, I’d be irked, too. But we’re following orders, just like you. So let’s just try to get along and nail the sucker who did this.”

Andrews shot Decker a look.

“What she said,” said Decker.

“I don’t know him that well. We’ve played golf together exactly once, and that was a tournament where we were paired up. I’ve had some casual conversations with him over the years, but that’s it.”

“Guy have a good rep in his line of work?”

“Nothing that I’ve ever heard to the contrary. I actually have some friends who are clients. They seem very pleased.”

“And you didn’t know about the tax thing five years ago?”

Andrews looked uncomfortable. “There was some local scuttlebutt about that. But I wasn’t involved.”

“And the kid?”

“He’s a junior in high school, already got some solid college interest for football. I’ve watched him play. He’s really good.”

“Ever in any trouble?”

“Straight as an arrow as far as I know. I’m friends with several of the local cops. They never mentioned anything involving him. I think Tyler knows he has a shot at the big time and doesn’t want to screw it up. He’s an Honor Roll student.”

“You seem to know a lot about him,” said White.

“He’s sort of a local sports hero. He’s nationally ranked at his position. And he won the state heavyweight wrestling title as a sophomore. Now he concentrates on football.”

“Sounds like a real stud,” said Decker.

White said, “Decker played at Ohio State, and then for the Cleveland Browns. But I’m not going to hold that against him.”

Andrews looked up at the huge Decker. “Is that right? The Cleveland Browns? And then you became a cop? Odd career trajectory.”

Decker glanced at White. “And getting odder by the minute.”