Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fallen

“It’s a way of paying respects, John,” countered Riley.

Baron pointed to the bottle held by Jamison. “I would rather pay my respects by drinking that. And if you point me toward the kitchen, I can get us glasses.”

Jamison led him that way, leaving Riley and Decker alone.

“You left my place really abruptly the other night,” she said. “You said you had somewhere to go.”

“I did.”

“Where?”

Decker studied her. “I found Stanley Nottingham.”

“Who?”

“The name of the guy on the back of the photo.”

“Oh, right.”

“He was related to Baron’s butler, Nigel.”

“Wow, that’s a coincidence.” She glanced sharply at Decker. “But you said you don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t believe in one that big.”

“What did you find out?”

“Ever hear any rumors about a treasure being hidden at the Baron estate?”

Riley shook her head. “No, why? Did this Stanley guy say there was?”

“He’d heard stories. And he lived in the same building in New York that Brad Costa did. They were friends, in fact.”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying that Brad Costa came to Baronville because he heard about rumors of some treasure?”

“I think it wasn’t just based on rumors. I think he did some digging on his own and then came here.”

“But he would have had to be pretty sure that it was true to pull up roots and move to this place.”

“I agree with you.”

“Do you really think there is some sort of treasure up there?”

“I think people have looked for it. But I don’t think they ever found it.”

“Damn.”

“Baron never mentioned that to you?”

“No, never. And if he’d found anything, I doubt he’d be living as he is.”

“Agreed. But he had to know about the rumors.”

She glanced at him. “Why are you telling me all this? Isn’t it part of your investigation?”

“It’s a parallel part. And I’m telling you because I’m relying on my gut. And my gut tells me I can trust you. Also, I need some traction on this case, which means I need some local help.”

“John would know more than I would. It’s his family.”

“But can I trust him?”

“I do.”

At that moment, Baron and Jamison came back with four glasses. He poured out a portion of whisky in each.

“To Frank,” he said, raising his glass.

The others repeated this toast and they all took a sip of the whisky.

Jamison said, “Wow, I’m not used to something this strong, at least not in the afternoon.”

Baron eyed her. “If you live here long enough, you’d see the utility in it. But I don’t recommend you live here, Alex.”

Decker glanced at Riley and then said to Baron, “Nigel Nottingham?”

Baron lowered his glass and glanced at him. “What about him?”

“Baron the First’s loyal butler.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

Riley said quickly, “He talked to a relative of the guy. He lived in the same building as Brad Costa. Decker thinks the relative told Costa about a possible treasure at your house. That’s why Costa came here.”

“And was murdered,” added Decker, still looking at Baron.

Baron said wearily, “Yes, the treasure. The alleged treasure.”

“You never mentioned that to us,” said Decker.

“Why would I? There is no treasure.”

“So you’ve looked for it?” said Jamison.

“No. But my ancestors did, for many, many decades. And it was never found, because our patron would never have left any money for his descendants to find. It wasn’t in his DNA.”

“Costa must have thought differently,” said Decker. “Why else chuck New York for this place. Did he ever ask you about it?”

“As I told you before, I don’t know the man. I never met the man, so there would have been no possible way for him to ask me anything.”

“And you’re certain about that?”

Baron pursed his lips and looked amused. “I’m assuming you’re referring to my failure to tell you about Joyce and Michael Swanson?”

“Your credibility is not all that good in my book.”

Baron said, “Well, I’m not sure what I can say to convince you otherwise, so perhaps I should take my leave.” He turned to Alex. “I am very sorry for what happened. I doubt there’s anything I can do, but if you or your sister need anything, please ask and I’ll do whatever I can.”

Riley said, “Same for me.”

“Thank you,” said Jamison.

They all walked outside. Fortunately, the rain had nearly stopped. As Baron and Riley were heading to his old Suburban, they heard the sirens.

“Coming this way,” noted Decker.

They saw flashing lights turn onto the street where the Murder House was.

All four of them ran over to the next block in time to see the police leap from their cars and run up to a house. The front door was open and an elderly woman was waiting on the porch looking distressed. As they watched, an ambulance slowly drove up to the house, its emergency lights off.

“Who lives there?” asked Riley.

Decker said, “Dan Bond. And from the looks of things, I’m not sure he lives there anymore.”

“Why would anyone want to kill Dan?”

A weepy Alice Martin had asked this same question so many times that Decker thought she might be in shock.

After flashing their badges at the responding officers, Decker and Jamison had been told that the death was not natural or accidental.

“Somebody crushed in his skull,” one officer had reported.

Now they were all gathered back at Amber’s house after Dan Bond’s remains had been removed from his home. The other guests had left and Amber and Zoe were upstairs resting. Jamison’s sisters had driven Frank’s parents and his siblings back to their motel.

Baron and Riley were still there and were silently studying the floor of the living room. Baron had another glass of whisky in hand.

Jamison put an arm on Alice Martin’s shoulder. “I’m sure the police will find out who did it.”

The elderly woman wailed to her, “Well, they haven’t found out who killed those other people yet.”

Jamison glanced at Decker, who was just about to make a comment when someone knocked on the door.

Decker knew who he was going to see when he opened it.

Detectives Green and Lassiter stared back at him.

Green said grimly, “I think we might want to evacuate the other residents from that street, and I’m only half joking.”

“One of them is here,” said Decker, indicating Martin. “What about Fred Ross?”

Lassiter said, “We woke him up when we knocked on the door. He was in a foul mood.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t have his shotgun with him.”

“Yeah, well, he said if anybody tried to bash his head in, they’d get both barrels in their face for the trouble.”

“What can you tell me?” asked Decker.

“Care to step outside?” said Lassiter.

They went back out on the porch and Decker turned to face them.

Green said, “He’s been dead since around midnight last night.”

“Forced entry?”

“No sign of that. An elderly friend came over to check on him when he didn’t show up for a church meeting and they couldn’t reach him on the phone. She found him in the kitchen.”

“How’d she get in?”

Green said, “She had a key. We checked her out, she’s what she claims to be.”

Decker said. “A uniform told me there was blunt force trauma to the head?”

“Correct,” said Lassiter.

“Murder weapon?”

“Didn’t find one. Perp probably took it with him.”

“And no one saw anything?”