Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fallen

He glanced at her. “You really believe that?”

“I have to. Otherwise, I couldn’t do my job.”

A minute of silence passed before Decker broke it.

“You mentioned insurance companies rating the value of a life,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s part of their business.”

“Cindi Riley told me that she’d lost a number of friends to overdoses here.”

“Not surprised. And there are thousands of places just like this one. Where people used to get up every day and go to work with a purpose. And now they don’t have a purpose. Or a job. Or any self-worth. That takes its toll, Decker. In a lot of ways. That’s why they’re calling the opioid epidemic the drugs of despair.”

“Riley also said that some of her friends had life insurance policies. And that some of the renovations in town are due to people having received large payouts from life insurance companies.” He pointed at the new luxury cars parked along the road. “And maybe those proceeds are also helping to pay for those.”

Kemper mulled this over for a few moments before shaking her head. “No insurance company will knowingly write a large life insurance policy on someone in such bad health they’re likely to die, or someone addicted to drugs, Decker, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Maybe they weren’t an addict when the policy was written,” he said.

“What are you driving at?”

“It would be interesting to know how many people in Baronville who’ve died from drug overdoses had large life insurance policies. Can you find that out?”

Kemper stared out at the line of cars parked on the road. “I can try.”

“Good.” Before she could respond, he said, “I’ve got to get back. I promised Jamison I’d help this afternoon. They’re having a reception at the Mitchells’.”

As he climbed out of the truck Kemper said, “I didn’t picture you as much of a domestic.”

“Well, these days, I’m even surprising myself.”

The rain was pouring down outside now. It beat on the Mitchells’ roof as the combined families and a few others gathered at the house after the funeral.

Decker had arrived in time to help Jamison and her sisters set things up. Food and drinks were laid out and chairs from the kitchen and other rooms distributed around. Decker had also passed on to Amber the lawyer’s card that Ted Ross had given him. She said she would call him later in the week.

Zoe was in a chair cuddling with both her blanket and her cat, Felix, while Amber sat with her in-laws quietly talking.

Alice Martin had come over with a boxed pie. She was now holding court in a corner of the room with Jamison and one of the school mothers. Ted Ross and the people with him from Maxus had said their goodbyes at the gravesite and skipped this event. Decker thought that wise, because Frank’s father’s jaw had tightened back at the cemetery when Ross had come by and offered his condolences to Amber.

The knock on the door caused Decker to flick a gaze at Jamison to let her know that he would answer it. She responded with a smile.

Decker opened the door and gazed dully at the pair standing there.

John Baron and Cindi Riley, both holding umbrellas, stared back at him.

“I take it you’re positively stunned at our presence here,” commented Baron.

Decker noted that he had on crisply pressed dress slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a faded corduroy sport coat with patches at the elbows.

Under her raincoat, Riley wore a loose-fitting black dress that settled right at her knee and matching pumps. Her hair was done up in a French braid. She held a package in her other hand.

“I am,” said Decker.

“We came by to pay our respects,” said Baron.

Riley handed Decker the package. “And to bring this. It’s a bottle of single malt whisky.”

“Okay,” said Decker. He just stood there holding it until Jamison appeared at his elbow.

“Hello,” she said to the pair.

Baron held out his hand. “We met before. John Baron. This is Cindi Riley.”

Jamison shook their hands.

Baron said, “As I told your colleague here, we came by to pay our respects.”

Decker said, “And they brought a bottle of single malt scotch.” He handed it to her.

Riley said, “I’m Irish. It’s what we bring to wakes. I hope it’s okay.”

“That was very thoughtful of you. Please come in out of the rain,” said Jamison.

She led them in and Decker closed the door behind the group.

All eyes in the room turned to the new arrivals.

No one seemed to recognize Baron other than Alice Martin. Decker saw her eyes widen slightly at the sight of the man, and then she returned to her conversation with one of the young mothers from Zoe’s school.

Baron and Riley spoke briefly to Amber, offering their condolences.

Then Jamison led the pair over to Zoe and introduced them.

His eyes twinkling, Baron got down on his knees in front of Zoe. “You strike me as a person who doesn’t believe in magic.”

Zoe had her thumb stuffed in her mouth and didn’t answer.

“Do I take that as a yes, that you don’t believe in magic?” said Baron.

Zoe nodded.

“All right. Now let me see. What did I do with that?”

He tapped his jacket pockets, looked under the chair, and then reached out to the blanket and lightly touched its edges. “No, it’s definitely not there.”

Zoe removed her thumb and said, “What’s not there?”

Baron, pretending not to have heard her, said, “Oh, of course, now I remember. Zoe, could you just reach in your cat’s right ear? You’ll find it in there, I think.”

Zoe looked uncertainly at Decker and then Jamison, who nodded encouragingly at her.

Zoe slowly put her fingers in Felix’s right ear and her eyes bulged as she withdrew a small silver coin. She said, “How did it get in Felix’s ear?”

Baron clapped his hands together and glanced at Jamison. “Well, I feel sure that Felix is a very special cat, right?”

Zoe nodded.

“Well, special cats can do magical things, like hiding coins in their ears.”

He took the coin and examined it. “Now, this is a very rare coin. It will bring whoever possesses it good luck. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Zoe, still looking wide-eyed from her cat to the coin.

Baron held it up in front of her. “It’s one hundred and forty-seven years old. It once belonged to my ancestor. He had a great many coins and never parted with many, but this one found its way to me and I would be honored if you would accept it as a token of my appreciation for your being such a brave young lady, and the owner of such a special cat. Would you do that, Zoe? Will you take the coin?”

Her fingers closed around the coin as she nodded.

He sat back and looked at her. “And now do you believe in magic? Perhaps just a little? Or at least in very special cats?”

She nodded energetically.

“What do you say, Zoe?” said Jamison, gazing admiringly at Baron.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you for doing me the honor of accepting it.” Baron glanced over at Amber, who was staring at them from across the room. “I bet your mom could use a hug right about now. And you can show her your brand-new, very old coin.”

Zoe smiled, jumped up, and ran over to her mother as Baron stood.

“That was really nice,” said Jamison.

“It was,” agreed Riley.

Jamison added, “You seem to be a man of many talents.”

“No, just a jack of all trades and a master of none, I’m afraid. My lot in life. So, how are things here?”

Jamison said, “I guess what one would expect. I’m just glad the funeral is over.”

Baron shook his head. “I don’t get the ritual of the funeral and the gravesite service. As if already grieving people need to go through that as well.”