Redemption

Chapter 64

Decker and Mars looked down at the woman. She was so covered in tubes and monitoring lines that it was almost difficult to discern the living person under this medical canopy.

But it was Rachel Katz. Still alive. And still critically stable.

“What do the doctors say?” asked Decker.

“That she’ll wake up at some point. They just don’t know when.”

“You’ve been in here most of the time. Has she come to at all? Made any sounds? Talked in her sleep?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“You need to take a break from here, Melvin. She’s got great care. And she’s well protected.”

“I don’t know, Decker,” he said doubtfully.

“I do know. And I’ve got some place I want you to go with me tonight.”

“Where?”

“Duncan Marks’s house. He invited me and Lancaster to dinner. I don’t think he’ll mind you tagging along. He was asking about Rachel today.”

“Okay, but why are you having dinner with the guy?”

“Because he did some business with her. And I need to know more about the history there.”

“Okay, if you think it will help.”

“At this point, Melvin, anything will help.”

They drove in Decker’s car up the long, winding road to Marks’s home, or, more aptly, his estate. They pulled in front of the mansion and parked in a stone-paved motor court.

Decker looked in the direction of Burlington and saw the lights of the town winking down below. Marks certainly had a fine view from up here.

When they got out, Lancaster tugged self-consciously at her dress and then prodded a few stray hairs back into place. “I didn’t really have anything in my closet for something like this,” she said, staring up at the enormous stone and stucco house, which looked like it belonged in the French or Italian countryside. “And I had no time to get my hair done.”

Decker said, “You look fine.”

“It’s different for guys, Decker,” she said in an annoyed tone.

“Just so long as you have your gun,” he said.

“I hope you’re joking,” she said, grinning.

He didn’t smile back.

Decker wore a corduroy jacket that looked like it had been new about thirty years ago, and khaki pants. And the cleanest shirt he had left.

Mars looked resplendent in a tailored wool jacket, white button-down shirt, slacks, and a pocket square.

“You, on the other hand, look like you could be in GQ,” Lancaster said to Mars.

“Thanks. For twenty years I wore the same clothes, white prison jumpsuit, so this is a nice change.”

They walked up to the massive double front doors and Decker rang the bell. A few moments later it was opened by a man in butler’s livery, who escorted them through to the library, where he said Marks and the rest of his party had gathered for cocktails before dinner.

It was a long wood-paneled room with few books but a roaring fire in the fireplace and clusters of seating areas full of plush furniture that looked custom made and probably was.

Marks was standing near the fire with a drink in hand, with two other men and three women clustered around him. Decker recognized his daughter, Jenny. She was in her twenties, tall and blonde and vapid, at least in his estimation. She’d already done more falling in love than most people did in a lifetime. Her only problem had been that all these men had loved her father’s money far more than they’d loved her.

She looked at Decker with unfriendly eyes, he thought. She was probably pissed that he knew more about her and her failed relationships than she wanted him to. Jenny was the product of Duncan Marks’s second marriage to a younger woman who had called it quits and left after Jenny was only three years old. To his credit, Marks had raised her. But he’d given her more than he should have, was Decker’s opinion. And with that, he had taken away any ambition she might have had.

“Decker,” called out Marks, waving them over.

“This is my friend, Melvin Mars,” said Decker. “I think you’ve met. I didn’t think you’d mind if he came too.”

“Right, right. You were with Rachel.” Marks shook his head sadly. “That was so tragic. I hope she’s going to be okay.”

“She’s hanging tough,” replied Mars. “I’ve been with her at the hospital and things are looking up.”

“Good, good.” He waved to the others in his group. “Decker, I think you know Jenny, my daughter.”

Jenny Marks gave Decker a small nod.

“And these are some of my business associates.”

Decker ran his eye over the small group of men and women. They all looked intense, well-heeled, and unimpressed by him and his appearance. The women were elegantly slender and dressed expensively with earring-draped ears and necklace-draped necks, and they looked condescendingly at the plain Lancaster. One of them leaned into her friend and said something to make the other woman smile.

Decker saw Lancaster clutch her jacket more closely around her.

They were served drinks and gathered closer by the fire. They could hear the wind whistling down the chimney.

“God, Ohio winters, here we go again.” Marks laughed. “Gets right into my bones.”

“Dad, you spend winters either in Palm Beach or Palm Springs,” his daughter pointed out.

“Well, I spent enough of them here in the past,” he retorted with a smile. “You ever been to Palm Beach, Decker?” he asked.

“No, I never have.”

“It’s beautiful there.”

“If you have a lot of money,” said Jenny.

Her father said, “No, it’s beautiful even without money. The scenery and weather are free. But the money makes it a lot more fun, I’ll grant you that.” Marks turned back to Decker. “Now, do you have any leads on what happened to Rachel? I mean, what sick bastard would have done something like this?”

“We have the sick bastard who did it.” Decker pointed to Lancaster. “Thanks to my partner here, who shot him dead before he could kill me, at great personal risk to herself.”

Now the other women looked at Lancaster quite differently. The one who had made the joke, probably at Lancaster’s expense, paled and took a step back, staring at the detective with far more respect.

“Now that’s impressive,” said Marks. “The only killing I’ve ever made is in the real estate business,” he added, without a trace of humor. He raised his glass to her. “Thank you for your bravery, Detective Lancaster.”

The others followed suit. She smiled, blushed, and took a quick sip of her gin and tonic.

Decker continued, “We believe it was a murder for hire.”

Marks snapped, “A murder for hire! Who in the hell would want Rachel dead?”

“I don’t know.” He looked around at the group. “You did business with her. Did she have any enemies?” He looked at each of them as they slowly shook their heads.

“I’m really the one who had the business relationship with her, Decker,” said Marks. “Although we don’t do much together anymore. She has her financial backers and really doesn’t need someone like me. I can’t say that I knew everything about the woman. But it never occurred to me that she had enemies. I mean, I know what happened to her husband, but that was a long time ago. And he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, if I remember correctly.”

The butler came in and announced dinner.

Marks grinned at Decker as they filed into the dining room. “I know, it’s quite British, the butler thing, I guess. And silly. But what the hell. I like it.”

In the long dining room, Marks placed Decker next to him, while he put Mars in between the other two women and Lancaster between the other two men. Jenny Marks sat across from Decker, while her father took his place at the head of the table.

As they were eating, Decker asked, “So what did you know about David Katz?”

“David?” Marks rubbed his mouth with his napkin. “Well, he came to town years ago, young and smart and ambitious as hell.”

“I understand he had already made money doing something.”

“That’s right. I heard that too.”

Marks chewed on a bit of steak.

“Do you know exactly what he made his money in?” asked Decker.

“Not really. I thought it was the stock market, or the bond market, but I can’t tell you definitively.”

Meanwhile, the women next to Mars were asking him about himself.

“You look like an athlete,” said the brunette on his left. “Were you in the pros?”

“Played some college ball. Wanted to play in the NFL, but never made it.”

“You look like you could still play right now.”

“Don’t know about that. Those boys are a lot bigger and faster than when I played.”

The woman on his right, indicating Decker, said, “How do you know that guy?”

“Dude saved my life once.”

“Isn’t he a detective or something?” said the woman.

“One of the best.”

“He doesn’t look like a detective.”

“What are they supposed to look like?”

“I don’t know. Like on TV, I guess.”

“I’d take Decker over all those guys.”

The man on Lancaster’s left nibbled at his bread while watching her out of the corner of his eye. She sensed this and turned to him. “You been working with Mr. Marks for a long time?”

“Does it matter?” asked the man. He changed expressions when the guy on the other side of Lancaster made a face. “I mean, yeah, about fifteen years now. He’s a good boss.”

“What do you do for him?”

“Basically, whatever he wants me to do for him.” The man gave what he probably thought was a disarming smile.

Lancaster didn’t return it. She focused on her meal and asked the attendant for a top-off on her wine.

“Why all the interest in David Katz?” Marks asked Decker.

“You ever been to the American Grill?”

Marks laughed. “Not my sort of place. I can’t eat burgers and fries anymore. And I’m more into wine than beer.”

Jenny was sitting across from Decker. “You said you think someone hired a person to kill Rachel?”

Decker nodded and focused on her, as her father sat up straighter in his chair. “That’s right.”

“But why would anyone do that? Rachel has never hurt anyone.”

“You know her well?”

“I would consider us friends. She’s actually taught me a lot about handling myself. I’ve started to work with Dad, and she’s been in the business world for a long time. I consider her a mentor.”

“And you’ve been doing a good job too,” said Marks proudly.

Decker’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Jenny smiled sardonically and said, “I’ve grown a little since you last knew me, Detective Decker. Even earned my MBA.”

“Glad to hear it, Ms. Marks.”

“Oh, just make it Jenny. You saved me from that low-life jerk over two years ago. You deserve a first-name relationship.”

“Okay, Jenny. When was the last time you talked to Katz?”

“Oh, probably about a week or so ago. We had lunch, just a catch-up sort of thing.”

“She seem okay?”

“Yes, nothing out of the ordinary.”

Marks said, “What do you think is going on, Decker?”

“I’m not sure. Someone wanted her dead. And her husband was murdered too.”

“But that was a long time ago. And they caught the guy who did it.”

“No, we didn’t. A man was convicted, but he didn’t kill David Katz and the others. He ended up coming back to town and being murdered too.”

Marks said, “Wait a minute, that’s right. I remember hearing about that. What was his name again?”

“Meryl Hawkins.”

“That’s right. It was all over the news. Those murders all those years ago cast a long shadow on this town, I can tell you that. And now you say he’s innocent?”

Decker noticed that Jenny Marks had flinched at her father’s remark. “What is it?” he asked her.

“Just something that Rachel said.”

“When?”

“The last time I talked to her. We were discussing business and that’s when she said it.”

“What?”

“It was really weird.” She paused to recall it. “Something about sins and long shadows.”

“Old sins cast long shadows?” said Lancaster, who had been raptly listening to this exchange.

Jenny pointed at her. “Yes, exactly. Old sins cast long shadows.”

Lancaster said, “Sounds like something out of a British detective novel.”

Decker caught Mars’s eye. He said, “Shades of truth.”

“What?” asked Marks.

“Just something else that Rachel told someone. Do you know anything else about David Katz’s background?”

“Well, I had him checked out when we were talking about doing some deals together. They never came to fruition because he was killed. Everything seemed to check out okay.”

“How far back did your check go?”

“Um, I’m not sure. George?” He looked at the man on the right of Lancaster. He was small and slightly built, with thinning dark hair and a bony face.

George said, “We usually do a financial dig on the person. Go back about five years. I didn’t do the one on this Mr. Katz, but that’s generally the drill.”

“Five years,” said Decker, really to himself.

“Do you think that’s far enough?” asked Marks.

“Apparently not,” replied Decker.