Дэвид Балдаччи - Redemption

He was leisurely turning the pages of a file on his desk while Decker and Lancaster sat impatiently across from him.

“Been in business nearly forty-five years,” he said.

“Right, you told us that. Have you found what you’re looking for?” asked Lancaster.

“Okay, here it is. Thought so. The American Grill. Don’t eat there myself. I’ve got acid reflux. Everything they serve gives me reflux.”

“And the construction? My husband said you worked on it.”

“Earl, now there’s a nice guy. Nice guy. You’re lucky, ma’am, to have him.”

“Yes, very. The file? You said you had it?”

Palmer planted a thick thumb down in the middle of the page. “Heavy equipment rental.”

“ Rental ?” said Decker. “Did you not do the work?”

“No, that’s what rental means.” Palmer laughed and gave Lancaster a funny look. “Can tell he doesn’t know shit about construction.”

“What sort of equipment?” asked Decker.

“Excavator, dump truck, front loader, bulldozer. It’s all there.” He tapped the file.

“How long did they rent it?”

Palmer looked over the page. “Says here two weeks.”

“Did you normally rent out equipment like that, or did you also typically do the work?”

Palmer sat back and closed the file. “We like to do the work, of course. But that was an odd project.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Decker.

“This Katz guy. Darren?”

“David,” corrected Decker.

“Right, David Katz. He later got murdered, you know.”

“Do tell,” said Lancaster, nearly rolling her eyes.

“Oh, yeah. Killed. Him and some others. Anyways, he came into town and got this loan and wanted to build this restaurant. Okay, fine. Lots of people here could have done that for him.”

“But he got a company from outside the area to do it,” said Decker. “We know that.”

“And he tarped things off and had really tight security around the construction area,” added Lancaster.

“That was odd. I tried to get the work, but we got turned down. We were the biggest outfit back then. Still one of the biggest today. Surprised me, but it was his money.”

“Was that the only thing odd about it that you found?” asked Lancaster.

“Well, no.” He tapped the file. “That was.”

Lancaster looked confused. “You’ve lost me.”

“What I mean is, what do you need all that heavy equipment for, if you’re just digging a foundation for a restaurant? I mean, how much excavation is there to do? Most projects like that, there’s none. You just grade the property, lay your foundation, and build up from there. Hell, what they rented from me, they could’ve dug down to China, nearly.” He laughed. “China, get it?”

“And did you ever ask them why they’d rented so much equipment like that?” asked Decker.

Palmer gaped at him. “What, are you serious? ’Course not. It was more money to me. None of my business what he does, so long as he pays. And he did. I will tell you that the construction took longer than it should have. And they had to pay some additional fees to me because of it. I remember driving by some days and wondering when the hell they were going to finish up.”

“Why do you think it took extra time?” asked Lancaster.

“Not sure. But it did, that’s all I know.” He laughed. “I do remember one thing.”

“What?”

“When we got the equipment back, they’d washed it all. Clean as a whistle. Now, I can never remember that happening before. Most times it comes back all crapped up and we have to clean it up. But not that time. I could’ve eaten my lunch off the stuff.” He laughed heartily. “Eaten my lunch. Get it?”

“Yeah,” said Decker. “I get it.”

After leaving Palmer’s office Lancaster looked up at Decker. “So what did we just learn?”

“That David Katz undertook, apparently, the strangest construction project in the history of Burlington.”

“And what does that tell us?”

“That it’s time for us to find out who the hell David Katz really was.”

They were walking down the street when a car drove past and then stopped. The window came down.

“Amos Decker?”

Decker glanced over at the expensive car. Duncan Marks was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Mr. Marks, how are you?”

“Well, I’m fine, but you look great. Lot different from the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, things have looked up for me.”

“Heard you were back in town.”

“Yeah, for a bit.”

“Never forgot what you did for my daughter.”

“Hope she’s doing okay.”

“She is, actually. I think Jenny finally figured it out.”

“Good to know.”

“God, I heard what happened to Rachel Katz. That was awful. Is she going to be okay?”

“We hope so,” said Lancaster.

“We’ve done some projects together. She’s quite a business-person. Very smart.”

Decker slowly nodded. “Would it be okay if we asked you a few questions about Katz? We’re trying to dig into who attempted to murder her, and you might be helpful.”

“Sure. Absolutely. Hey, come to dinner tonight at my house.” He looked at Lancaster. “Bring your friend here too.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Decker.

“No, I insist. Least I could do after your help with Jenny. Say around seven?”

Decker nodded, and Marks drove off.

Lancaster looked over at him. “Might be an interesting dinner.”

“Let’s hope it’s something more than interesting.”

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.