Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fallen

“We already did that,” protested Green.

“Fresh eyes,” countered Decker. “We’ll need the keys to all their places.”

“But we haven’t even identified the last two,” pointed out Lassiter.

“But you have the other four.”

Green said in a disappointed tone, “I guess it was wishful thinking, but I thought you Feds would swoop in and solve this sucker overnight.”

“Did your partner fill you in on your ME’s time-of-death and other related screw-ups?” asked Decker.

Green looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, she did. Blowflies and livor mortis. That was a good catch, actually. We’re looking at it all again.”

“Great, while you’re doing that, let me throw you another bone so you feel like we’re swooping onto something.”

“What bone?” asked Lassiter.

“Ask your ME to check to see if the ‘nonhuman’ blood found at the crime scene is pig’s blood. I think he can probably do that without screwing it up.”

“Pig’s blood?” exclaimed Green. “Why in the world would you think that?”

“You watch any old cop shows?”

“What, you mean Law & Order ?” asked Green.

“Farther back than that.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Lassiter.

“It might have everything to do with it,” replied Decker.

“Pig’s blood?” said Jamison as they drove down the street.

“Just a shot in the dark. Let’s see how it plays out.”

“You didn’t tell me you met with John Baron last night.”

“Well, now you know.”

“What was he like?”

“Tall, lean, thick graying hair, in his fifties. Good-looking guy. Elegant, like a movie star or model. And erudite, with a formal way of speaking. But he’s handy with a quip. And even though the punks were a lot younger than he was, it looks like he tagged a couple of them before they got the upper hand. So the guy can fight.”

“He was really attacked at the bar?”

“Three idiots who apparently have a grudge against the Barons.”

“Well, if Lassiter is any indication, the whole town seems to hold a grudge. Do you really think their surname is Baron ? That seems coincidental.”

“I really haven’t looked into that, nor do I care,” replied Decker.

“Do you actually believe Baron’s involved in the murders?”

“I have no idea. But when I asked him if he knew any of the vics, I didn’t believe his answer.”

“Why?”

“My gut.”

“Well, your gut has proven pretty accurate.”

“Good thing, since I have such a big one.”

“Pretty fast with a quip yourself. So where to?”

“Joyce Tanner’s place. We’ll take them one at a time.”

Joyce Tanner’s “place” was a basement apartment in a rickety wooden building that looked as though a strong gust of wind might bring it down.

Green had provided Decker with a key.

“Surprised Green and Lassiter didn’t insist on coming,” observed Jamison as they gazed around the small front room.

“As Green not so subtly intimated, I think they’re disappointed we haven’t already solved it. I don’t think they want to waste any more time with us. And Lassiter didn’t even want us involved in the first place.”

“That may have changed. I seemed to connect with her. But, boy, she really doesn’t like the Baron family.”

“Based on what I saw last night, I doubt you’d find many here that do like the past or present Barons. There were about twenty people in the bar last night and not one of them did anything to help the guy. Didn’t even take out their phones to call the cops.” He paused. “Except for the bartender. She seemed to like him. And he definitely liked her.”

“Place looks pretty tidy,” noted Jamison, gazing around.

“They’ve already dusted for prints, so no need for latex gloves. Let’s get to it.”

“Not much here,” opined Jamison after they finished searching. “I wonder what will happen to her personal belongings?”

“Green said she has a distant cousin in Kentucky coming in.”

“A bit after the fact.”

“Apparently it’s her only family. She and her ex divorced a long time ago and he left the area. They had no kids.”

He sat on the bed and looked around. What Decker liked more than anything else was to use his prodigious memory to spot inconsistencies. It was almost like placing a template over some fresh material. If something, no matter how seemingly insignificant, didn’t match, he would be able to spot it.

Yet somehow that method had failed him here.

But other assets he possessed had not. Like common sense.

“Green said she’d been living here for about a year,” he noted.

“Right.”

“The file also said she got laid off from JC Penney six months ago and had been unemployed ever since.”

“Right again.”

“So how did she pay her rent and other expenses? Her unemployment check couldn’t cover all of it. And if she had a bunch of money in savings, I doubt she’d be living in a place like this. And the file said her retail job offered no severance.”

“And she had a car. So there was gas, insurance, and expenses like that,” added Jamison. “You think someone was helping her?”

“Well, I don’t know that someone wasn’t helping her. And this looks like the sort of place that if your rent check was late, your ass is out on the street. Trust me, I’ve lived in places like that.”

“So have I.”

“Let’s check out her ride,” Decker said.

The vehicle, a twelve-year-old gray Nissan, was parked on the street.

Decker used a key that Green had given him to open the car door.

“She was a smoker,” said Jamison, as she waved her hand in front of her face in an attempt to dispel the stench. “You could probably get lung cancer just by sitting in here for a few days.”

Decker had squeezed his big body into the driver’s seat of the compact car and was looking around.

Jamison noted a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror.

“Think she was into gambling?”

“Lots of people have fuzzy dice who never rolled a pair for real,” said Decker.

“I was just kidding.”

“From what Green and Lassiter could find out, the last time anyone saw her was three days before her death.”

“A lot can happen in three days.”

“I also wonder how she was paying her credit card bill.”

Jamison said, “So again perhaps a secret source of money? Maybe it’s tied to her murder. Drugs? That would connect her to Swanson at least.”

They climbed out of the car and Decker walked around it. He stopped and knelt next to the rear passenger tire. He used the car key to dig something out of the tread. He finally freed the object and held it up.

“A nail,” said Jamison.

“More precisely, it’s a framing nail, that they use in a powered nail gun.”

“She could have picked that up anywhere at any time.”

“Don’t think so. Look at the tire.”

With the nail removed, it was already deflating. They could hear air escaping.

“It’s not rusted or anything. And if it had been there a while and she had driven on it, the nail would have worked itself through the surface of the tread and the tire would have started leaking and then gone flat. And this tire looks newer than the others. The inspection sticker on the windshield shows that she had it inspected this month. I bet the tire didn’t pass inspection and she had to replace it with this one.”

“Okay, but she still could have picked up the nail anywhere, like the parking lot of a hardware store.”

“Possibly, but these nails are set in a strip carrier, sort of like an ammo belt on a machine gun. They don’t just fall out.”