Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fallen

She was speaking the truth here, for as Decker and Jamison looked around, the shelves were only half full and the displays looked old and dusty. The entire place had an air of neglect.

“Do you get a lot of visitors?” asked Jamison.

“No, I’m afraid not. People aren’t interested in history anymore, it seems.”

“Then they’re doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past,” noted Decker.

“Exactly,” said Satterwhite, suddenly animated. “You’ve hit the nail right on the head. Everyone looks to the future for answers, which ignores the fact that people, despite the passage of years, remain fundamentally the same.”

“You were telling us about Bradley Costa?” prompted Jamison.

“Oh, yes. That’s right. A very nice young man. Very interested in our town.”

“Anything in particular?” prompted Jamison.

“Particularly in John Baron. The First, I’m talking about. The one who founded this town.”

“What exactly was he interested in having to do with John Baron?” asked Decker.

Satterwhite led them into another room.

“This is our Baron Room, as I like to call it. Here, we house everything we have about John Baron, from his birth to his death.”

“I understand that he died on the same day as his butler, Nigel Nottingham.”

“Yes, that’s right. Are you an historian too?”

“An amateur one,” lied Decker. “Was Costa interested in that fact?”

“Well, he asked me about it. He wanted to know if we had any correspondence from Nigel. He was the first person ever to ask about that.”

“And did you?” asked Decker.

“No, we didn’t.”

“Did he ask about anything else?”

“Any business correspondence that Baron might have had in the time leading up to his death.”

“And did you have anything like that?” asked Jamison.

“Just one letter.”

She turned to a file cabinet, opened it, and rummaged through its contents. “That’s funny.”

“You can’t find it?” asked Jamison.

“Well, it was right here. Maybe it was put back in the wrong place.” She went through the other drawers, without success.

“Well, that is strange,” she said more to herself than to them. “It’s not here.”

“When was the last time the letter was accessed?” asked Jamison.

“Why, when Mr. Costa was here. But I know that I put it back in here.”

“Could anyone else have gotten to it?”

“Well, I’m the only one here. We do leave the door unlocked during the day, though, so I guess if I’m in the back and someone comes in but doesn’t call out to me, they could come in here without my knowing. But who would do that?”

“Can you tell us what was in the letter?” asked Decker.

“Yes, because I read through it quite thoroughly when I got it out for Mr. Costa. It was nothing special. Baron had written to a company about the construction of another building at his textile mill. It had to do with the purchase of equipment, clay, lots of concrete, brick molds, those sorts of things. I didn’t consider it important, really. It was just business.”

“When was the letter dated?” asked Decker.

“About a year before his death.”

“Was it a local company he was writing to?” asked Jamison.

“No, it was a company from Pittsburgh.”

“Do you remember the name?” asked Jamison.

“Oh, let me think. Yes, that’s right. O’Reilly and Sons. I remember because my mother-in-law’s maiden name was O’Reilly.”

“But I presume Costa was interested in the letter?” said Decker. “Since you pulled it out for him?”

“Well, yes. But that letter was really the only thing I could find about any business correspondence. We mostly had to rely on the Baron family for any such materials, and apparently they either didn’t have much, or else they didn’t want to part with it.”

“Well, thank you for your help,” said Jamison.

As they were walking back to their truck she said, “Well, that’s strange that the letter went missing. Do you think Costa stole it?”

“Maybe. Or maybe someone else did.”

“I wish we had learned more.”

“Well, we have a new question we need an answer to.”

“What?”

“What did Baron the First really use the stuff he ordered for? Because it wasn’t for a textile mill expansion.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because of what Detective Green already told us.”

“We’re executing a search warrant at John Baron’s house if you want to tag along.”

Decker stared blankly at Lassiter as she stood on the front porch of the Mitchells’ house early the next morning.

“Where’s your partner?” he asked.

“Running down some other leads. I’m heading this effort up.”

“Why a search warrant for Baron’s place?” Decker said sleepily. She had phoned him before coming over, which had allowed him to hastily dress and meet her on the porch.

“We have reason to believe he might be involved in the murders,” she said.

“And why is that?” asked Jamison, who had just walked up next to Decker. He had told her about Lassiter’s call. Jamison was still tugging down a sweater she had thrown on and brushed her sleep-tousled hair out of her eyes.

“Based on things your friend here told me,” said Lassiter, indicating Decker.

“Baron knew at least three of the four vics. We know he knew Joyce Tanner and that Swanson was living in his potting shed. But who’s the third?” asked Decker.

“The bank holds the mortgage on Baron’s home. And guess who the bank’s point person on the loan was?”

Jamison said dully, “Bradley Costa.”

“You win the prize.”

“So, he has connections to some of the victims,” said Decker. “I’m sure other people in town do too.”

“And then there’s the Toby Babbot connection. That makes it four for four.”

“What connection?” said Decker sharply.

“I dug up an old arrest report. Toby Babbot was charged with trespassing on Baron’s property.”

“What was he doing up there?” asked Jamison.

“He wouldn’t say when the cops asked him.”

“And Baron knew about this?”

“ He was the one who caught Babbot up there and reported it to the police. So Baron knew all four victims.”

“And what’s your theory of the case?” asked Jamison.

“Well, the Costa angle is easy enough. The bank holds the mortgage. And as Decker also told me, Baron was into Greek mythology. Thanatos is the Greek god of death.”

“And Joyce Tanner?”

“He was supporting her financially. He was running out of money. Maybe she had some dirt on him and that was why he was supporting her. So he kills her and writes that biblical crap on the wall about slavery. A financial slave, maybe. And Tanner was into the Bible in high school, something Baron well knew.”

“Don’t you think all of that is a bit of overkill?” said Decker.

“What do you mean?” asked Lassiter.

“Greek symbols, biblical verses, all things that could be traced back to Baron pretty easily. I did it just by looking in a yearbook. And that mortgage has been on his property for a long time. So why go out and kill a banker over it now?”

“Because I learned he recently tried to get the debt refinanced at a lower rate because of cash flow issues, but the bank refused, meaning Costa refused. Consequently, he’s in danger of losing the whole property if he can’t make payments and the bank forecloses.”

Decker looked a little taken aback by these new facts. “That still doesn’t prove he killed the guy. And I still think it’s way too overdone.”

“Killers sometime overthink things, Decker. They make simple complicated. They get too cute.”