Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fallen

Lassiter looked surprised. “How do you know all this?”

He gave her a severe look. “I investigated .”

Kemper said, “I know my jurisdiction doesn’t extend to these local murders, but if they’re connected to my case I want to know about it. So this Baron guy knows two of the four dead vics. What about the other two?”

“He says he doesn’t know them.”

“He says he doesn’t,” noted Lassiter.

“Why didn’t he come forward when Tanner and Swanson were killed?” asked Kemper.

“If he killed them, the answer to your question is obvious,” replied Decker.

“Did he ever mention knowing my guys?” asked Kemper.

“I didn’t ask him, because I didn’t want to reveal that information,” said Decker.

“Since Tanner was found with Babbot and Swanson with Costa, that would mean if Baron was behind it, he killed all four,” observed Lassiter.

“And if he didn’t kill them?” said Kemper. “Why not come forward?”

Decker said, “The town hates him. I doubt he would want to get scapegoated for something he didn’t do.”

Lassiter snapped, “That’s not how we do things here, Decker.”

He looked at her. “I know about your father.”

Lassiter’s eyes widened.

“What about your dad?” said Kemper.

Decker looked at Lassiter. “You want to do the honors?”

“Why? What does it have to do with anything?”

Decker said, “He was convicted of burning down a home with a banker inside. A banker who’d foreclosed on his house after he lost his job at a company founded by the Barons.”

“Again, it’s not relevant,” said Lassiter.

“It is, because you and this whole town have a grudge against the Barons, so don’t try to sugarcoat it and say that no one here might have it in for him.”

Kemper was about to say something when Decker’s food arrived: a thick steak, rare, fries, and a small salad.

“Why bother with the salad?” noted Kemper wryly.

“Veggies are important, and technically fries are potatoes.”

As he ate Kemper said, “So do you have anything else to share?”

“Toby Babbot was injured on the construction site for the Maxus Fulfillment Center. And he had a piece of graph paper in his trailer. It had marks on it from the paper he’d made drawings on.”

“Drawings of what?” asked Kemper.

“The fulfillment center construction plans.”

“Wait a minute, where did you find that?” asked Lassiter.

“In his trailer.”

“And you didn’t tell us this why?”

“I didn’t know what it was until a short time ago.”

Kemper said, “Why construction plans?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was thinking of suing Maxus, although you’d think he would have done it by now. But I talked with Betsy O’Connor, his last roommate. She said Babbot had a beef with Maxus and talked about getting even with them.”

Lassiter took a swig of her beer and smacked the glass on the table. “I came to you for answers and now all I have are a ton more questions.”

“Anything else?” asked Kemper.

“The plane I saw on the night I found the bodies?”

“You’re not going to tell me that was a drug runner’s plane landing in western PA,” said Kemper.

“No, I’m telling you there was no plane that night.”

Both women looked puzzled.

Kemper said, “I don’t understand. Are you saying you didn’t see a plane?”

“No. I think it was a drone.” He explained his conversation with Dan Bond, and that he had confirmed no flights had gone anywhere near Baronville that night.

Lassiter looked chagrined. “When I went to interview him, I didn’t ask Bond about the plane you said you saw because I didn’t think it was important.”

“Neither did I. I just happened to mention it to him. Goes to show that simply assuming something is true is never good enough.”

“A drone?” said Kemper. “What would it be doing on that street?”

Decker looked at her. “Remember we were speculating that your two agents had set up a surveillance nest at the house next to the one where their bodies were found?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe that drone was doing surveillance too.”

“On what?” asked Lassiter.

Decker didn’t answer.

“Do you know?” asked Kemper.

Decker had finished his meal while they had been talking. He was looking over Kemper’s shoulder at the bar. It had emptied and Cindi was serving only two customers.

Decker dropped a twenty on the table and rose. “I gotta go.” He walked toward the bar, leaving Lassiter and Kemper to stare openmouthed at each other.

Lassiter said, “He’s a piece of work.”

Kemper stared after him. “Yeah, but I get the feeling we should never, ever underestimate the guy.”

“You’re back?”

Cindi slid a coaster in front of Decker at the bar.

“Like a bad penny.”

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“Let me have your best IPA.”

She looked dubious. “Beer’s in the eye of the beholder.”

“I trust your judgment.”

She bent down and pulled out a bottle of beer from a small fridge under the bar.

Decker studied her. She was wearing a black shirt with the top button undone, allowing a glimpse of a tan bra and cleavage. Her jeans were snug and her hair bounced over her athletic shoulders.

He assumed the peekaboo shirt and tight pants were all about tips, and he didn’t fault her for that. Guys who sat at bars were mostly simple creatures, just dying to be manipulated by a pretty lady.

She poured the beer into a mug and slid it across to him.

“Try that.”

He took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “You know your beers.”

She smiled and wiped down the bar in front of him.

“So why the Mercury Bar?” he asked. “Into Greek mythology?”

“No, my dad was a big Orson Welles fan. You know, the Mercury Radio Theatre I think it was called, or something like that. And Mercury is part of Roman mythology, not Greek. Hermes was Mercury’s Greek counterpart.”

“My mistake,” said Decker.

She studied him. “Why do I think you already knew that? You probing for something?”

“Maybe. You seen John lately?”

“Which John? I know lots.”

“Baron.”

“No, why?”

“Just wondering. You two buds?”

“He comes in for drinks. If that makes us buds, I got lots of buds in this town.”

“When I was in here the other night I just thought there was something more there.”

Cindi stopped wiping down the bar, pulled out a bottle of water from under the counter, and took a swig. “Why do you care?”

Decker shrugged. “I’ve gotten to know Baron a little bit. I think he’s okay. I’d hate for him to get messed up in any of this.”

Cindi put the bottle of water down and picked up her cloth again. When a customer caught her eye and lifted his glass for a refill, she said to Decker, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

He held up his beer in answer and took another drink.

A minute later she returned and said, “I’ve got another bartender coming in at ten. You want to talk then?”

“Works for me.”

“You’re right,” she said. “John is a good guy.”

“It’s nice to be right.”

“So, messed up in what?”

“Ten o’clock,” he replied.

At the stroke of ten Cindi handed the bartending over to someone else and motioned to Decker to join her at the back of the bar.

“My car’s parked in back.”

“Mine’s in front.”

“I’ll drive you back here. It’s not that far.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my place.”