David Baldacci - The Last Mile

They knocked for a long time, and only when it was clear that they weren’t going to leave did Regina Montgomery answer the door. She stood there defiantly in the doorway still dressed in the clothes she had worn to the execution.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

Decker said, “We just had some questions for you.”

“My husband was executed tonight. Can’t you leave me in peace!” she added shrilly.

“I can understand how you feel, Mrs. Montgomery, but I wouldn’t be here unless I thought it really important. Can we come in? It won’t take more than a few minutes.”

She looked at Jamison, and then her gaze fell on Mars and her face twisted in disgust.

“What, you mean him too?”

“Him especially,” said Decker. “He’s—”

“I know who the hell he is! I just... I mean I don’t have...”

Decker said, “It’ll only be a few minutes. And since this pertains to Mr. Mars, he needs to be included. Please, Mrs. Montgomery.”

Jamison stepped forward and took the woman by the hand. “Let’s just go in and sit. Have you had anything to eat? Maybe a cup of tea to help settle your nerves? I can only imagine what you’ve had to deal with today. I’m so sorry.”

“I... that would be... I can’t eat anything, but some hot tea. Yes.”

“Just show me where and I’ll fix it right up.”

Jamison smoothly steered Montgomery inside while Decker and Mars followed. When Jamison turned around, Decker shot her an appreciative look.

After Regina Montgomery showed Jamison where things were in the kitchen, she and Mars settled around a coffee table in the small, cluttered living room. Back in the kitchen Jamison put a kettle on the cooktop to heat up the water. Then she found a cup and a box of tea bags. While the water was heating she rejoined them.

When she sat down across from Montgomery, Jamison’s gaze flitted over Montgomery and held briefly on her wrist. She looked surprised.

Montgomery was staring at Decker. “Well?” she said crossly.

“Is your son here?” asked Decker.

“No,” she said sharply. “He’s staying at a friend’s. I thought it best. No reason for him to have to deal with... this.”

“That was a good idea.”

She glanced at Mars sitting next to Decker and her mouth curved into a frown.

Mars stared right back at her. He seemed about to say something when Decker spoke.

“Tommy told us about the insurance money.”

She was startled by this. “What? When did you — how did you know where he was?”

“Howling Cougars,” said Decker, pointing to the photo on the table across from them.

“Well, so what? Chuck had life insurance. I’m the beneficiary. Nothing wrong with that.”

“For thirty thousand dollars?”

She jerked again. “Who told you that?” she demanded.

“We’re the FBI, Mrs. Montgomery, we can find out things.”

The teakettle whistle blew. Jamison rose and went into the kitchen to prepare the tea. She poured it into a cup and then, looking around for some crackers, pulled aside a curtain covering a small niche in the kitchen. What she saw inside made her start. She snagged a box of crackers and some peanut butter off a shelf, and walked back over to the sink.

“Hey, Decker?” she called out. “Can you give me a hand? I know Mrs. Montgomery doesn’t need us to be here any longer than necessary.”

A bit put out by her request, Decker rose and went into the kitchen. While Jamison was spreading peanut butter over the crackers she jerked her head toward the open curtain. “Check that out,” she said quietly.

Decker turned, saw what was there, and glanced quickly at Jamison, who hiked her eyebrows. “And there’s something else I saw,” she said.

A minute later they came back into the room, Jamison with the tea and Decker with the plate of peanut butter crackers. They placed them in front of Montgomery, who was staring stonily at Mars.

“Thank you,” she said. She took a sip of the tea and nibbled at a cracker, her gaze now downcast.

While Montgomery was doing that, Jamison glanced around the room and her gaze fixed on a coat tree by the front door. This time she didn’t look surprised.

Montgomery put her teacup down. “Why do you care about the insurance money?”

Decker said, “Tommy also said that you were planning to move from here to wherever he ended up going to college. That you were going to buy a place and not have to work.”

Montgomery didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she waved her hand dismissively. “He’s just a kid. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. I am planning to move to where he goes to college. But I’ll have to work. And I sure as hell won’t be buying a house. Thirty thousand dollars isn’t enough for me to stay home and twiddle my thumbs.”

“So you will have to work?”

“Didn’t you hear me? Yes, I’ll have to work. Do I look rich to you? I’ve been working my ass off all my life. Work till I drop, unless Tommy makes it to the NFL, and then he can take care of me.”

Mars said, “I wouldn’t bank on that. It’s like a one-in-a-million chance.”

She eyed him. “You played football, so I heard.”

“It’s a rough sport. Tell Tommy to be a doctor or lawyer instead. He’ll have a much healthier retirement.”

“I’m sure you’re mad at my husband, but he did come forward. Only reason you’re out of jail.”

“He was the reason I was in jail,” countered Mars. “He murdered my parents. So excuse me for not feeling grateful.”

She shook her head and mumbled something like, “You people.”

Decker placed a restraining hand on Mars’s shoulder, since it looked like the man was about to jump to his feet. “When do you get the insurance money?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“I told you I just had a few questions, Mrs. Davenport. The sooner you answer them the sooner we’re out of here. The reverse is also true.”

She picked up her tea, took a sip, ate a cracker, and then said, “I have to file the claim. It might take a few days, or maybe a week. It’s not like they won’t have proof he’s dead.”

“Right.” Decker looked at Jamison and nodded.

Jamison pointed to Montgomery’s wrist. “That’s a beautiful watch. Cartier, isn’t it?”

Montgomery immediately covered it with her other hand. “No, it’s not.”

“It says Cartier on the watch face,” pointed out Jamison.

She looked down at her hand. “I got it for like ten bucks.”

“Where?”

“I forgot.”

“It’s against the law to traffic in knockoffs,” said Decker.

“So find the person who sold it to me and arrest him.”

Decker rose, went into the kitchen, pulled the curtain aside, lifted up the boxes stacked there, and brought them back into the room and set them on the floor.

Montgomery jumped to her feet. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t do that. Those are mine.”

“Chanel. Neiman Marcus. Saks. Bergdorf Goodman. Jimmy Choo. They all make very nice stuff. And very expensive.”

Jamison pointed to a bag hanging on the coat tree by the front door. “And that’s an Hermès bag. I wish I could afford one.”

Montgomery turned pale. “They’re all fakes. I can’t afford none of that.”

Decker said, “I wasn’t aware that fraudsters shipped their goods in boxes with the names of the brands on the side. They usually just sell them on the street.”

Montgomery said nothing to this. She took another sip of tea and ate another cracker.

“Can I look inside the boxes?” asked Decker.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“You got a search warrant?”

“Actually, I don’t need one.”