Redemption

Chapter 17

“Hold on, where’s the FBI gal? I liked her.”

Agatha Bates was staring up at Decker through the lenses of her thick glasses.

Mary Lancaster, who stood next to Decker in Bates’s small living room, said, “She’s on another assignment out of state. I’m working with Agent Decker now.”

Bates nodded. “Well, so long as you got somebody to keep an eye on him. He’s a strange one,” she added, as though Decker couldn’t hear her. “I think he’s just too big for his own good, if you know what I mean.”

Lancaster said to him, “I had gone over to Richards’s house to question her again. The car was gone and there was no answer. Mrs. Bates was out in her yard, called me over, and told me what she saw last night.”

Decker glanced out the window across the street at Susan Richards’s house. “What can you tell us?” he said.

“What I told this lady. It was around nine-thirty last night. I heard that dang car start up.”

“You mean Richards’s car with the loud muffler?” said Decker.

She frowned up at him. “I thought I just said that.”

“Tell him what happened next,” said Lancaster quickly.

Bates slowly drew her gaze from Decker and said, “Saw Susan get out of the car while it was running and head into the house. She came out a few minutes later with a big old suitcase. One of them rolling ones. She leaned down and opened the car trunk and heaved it in. Then she slammed the trunk shut and got in the car.”

“What was she wearing?” asked Decker.

“Long trench coat and a hat, all I could see.”

“And you’re sure it was her?” said Decker.

“’Course I am. I know Susan. Tall, thin, blonde hair and all.”

Lancaster nodded. “And then she drove away?”

“That’s right. She didn’t tell me about taking a trip. But she must be going away for a while. That bag was stuffed.”

Lancaster looked over at Decker, who was once more staring out the window. She said, “Richards must have left in a hurry. She didn’t stop the newspaper or mail deliveries. I checked.”

“So is she on the lam, then?” asked Bates. “What we used to call it when people go on the run. You know, like The Fugitive. I loved that show. Don’t make ’em like that anymore.” Her small face crinkled with pleasure. “And I had the biggest crush on David Janssen. What a hottie he was. He’s dead now. Everybody I liked on TV is dead now.”

“We’re not sure of her reasons for leaving,” said Lancaster.

“Well, if Susan killed that man, she probably would try to get away,” said Bates. “I know I would.”

Decker said, “Did you see anyone else over there last night?”

Bates’s gaze swiveled back to him. “No. Woulda told you if I had.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary?” he persisted.

Bates thought about this. “Not unless you count somebody going on the lam.”

Decker and Lancaster left and walked across the street to Richards’s home. A forensic team was inside looking around.

Decker looked to the sky where a storm was coming in.

Lancaster followed his gaze. “Weird weather this time of year. It was warm and humid and not a cloud in the sky last night. Now we’re going to get a storm and the temp will drop twenty-five degrees.”

Decker nodded absently. “You put out a BOLO, right?” he said.

“Of course. Nothing yet. We also tagged her credit cards and her phone. No charges, and she must have turned her phone off.”

“Someone will probably spot the car. Or hear it.”

“So does this confirm her guilt vis-à-vis Meryl Hawkins?”

“Did you check the rear door of the Residence Inn?”

“Hasn’t changed since your time. Still broken. And no CCTV. So, did Richards exact her revenge on Hawkins?”

“I don’t know.”

“If she’s innocent, why run?”

“Same answer.”

“So how do we get answers?”

“We need to know more about Hawkins.”

“Like what?”

“Everything.”

“You mean after he was murdered?”

“No, before.”

“How does that help us?”

“If he didn’t kill the Richardses and David Katz, there must have been some reason why the real murderer would pick him to place the blame. We might find those reasons by looking at what he was doing before the murders.”

They walked back to their cars. When they reached them Decker turned to his old partner.

“I saw Earl at the American Grill.”

She looked surprised and popped in another piece of gum. “Did you? Was he alone?”

“No.”

She nodded. “Did you speak to him?”

“He came over. We... talked about things.”

“Nuance has never been your strong suit, Decker. And while you’re a stone face when it comes to police work, your poker face sucks when it comes to personal matters. He told you about us.”

Decker looked at her uncomfortably as the wind picked up around them.

“You have time for a drink?” she asked.

Decker nodded.

He followed her to a bar called Suds. Decker had frequented the place so often after the deaths of his family that the owner had used a Sharpie to write his name on the barstool on which he always sat.

The place was three-quarters full as folks drank and ate food from the bar menu. Music played in the background and some pinball machines lined up against one wall kept lighting up and dinging. The smack of pool balls came from another room where patrons could engage in billiards to their hearts’ delight, so long as they kept ordering drinks and munchies.

Decker and Lancaster sat at a high table set against one wall. Decker ordered a beer and Lancaster a vodka tonic.

“You okay with your decision to join the Bureau?”

“I’m okay with it,” said Decker tersely. “But I didn’t think we came here to talk about me.”

Lancaster took a sip of her drink and munched on some nuts from a bowl in front of her. “Life is complicated. At least mine is.”

“How does that lead to divorce? I thought you and Earl cared for each other.”

“We do, Decker. It’s not really about that.”

“What else is there?”

“What people want out of life, for one.”

“What do you want that’s different from what Earl wants?”

“I want to keep working in law enforcement.”

“And Earl doesn’t want that?”

“It’s hard on him, Decker. It’s hard on Sandy. I get that. But all I’ve ever wanted to be is a cop. I’ve worked my entire adult life to get to this point. I can’t just chuck it, even if I do care for somebody.”

“So it’s an either/or?”

“It apparently is for Earl. But I’m not blaming him. You know when those monsters left those mannequins at our home dressed up to look like they’d been murdered two years ago? It scared the shit out of all of us, but Earl especially took it hard. He couldn’t stop talking about it. What if it had been for real? Things changed after that between us. And they’ve never gone back to what they were.”

“And what about Sandy? Earl said he’s getting more custody than you.”

“With my job, how could I have done that? It would be way too hard on Sandy. I’m not going to put her through that.”

“She’s your daughter.”

“And she’s Earl’s daughter too. And she has special needs. His job is a lot more flexible than mine. I can’t suddenly duck out of a homicide investigation or not show up for court so I can pick her up from school because she’s having an episode. I know. I tried. It didn’t work. You saw that for yourself.”

“I did and I’m sorry.”

She gave a weak smile. “Apologies? You going soft on me in your middle age?”

“Doubtful.” He took a swig of beer. “I’m sorry that my problems intruded into your life. What happened to your family was because of me.”

She reached over and gripped his hand. “Every problem in the world is not yours to solve. I know you have very broad shoulders, but no one can take on that sort of responsibility. And it wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of a couple of very sick people. You know that’s true.”

“Do I?” he said. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

“You can’t live this way, Amos. It’s not sustainable.”

“I never expected to live that long anyway.”

She withdrew her hand and said coldly, “No one should wish for a shortened life.”

“I’m not wishing for it. I’m just being realistic.”

“You’ve lost weight. You’re in a lot better shape than the last time I saw you.”

“It’s not my weight that concerns me.”

She glanced at his head and frowned. “Problems there?”

“Does it matter? I’ll just keep going until... I don’t.”

“I guess we can talk in circles all night.”

“I’d rather move forward on this case.”

“So, you mentioned Hawkins’s past. Where do you start?”

“I start with before he allegedly became a murderer.”

“You mean?”

“Exactly.”