Memory Man, Page 6

  Leopold blinked and rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, I guess I see that.”

  “And, no, I’m not a cop. So you followed him. How?”

  “What do you mean, how?”

  “Car, foot, bike?”

  “Ain’t got no damn bike.”

  “So a car?”

  “If I ain’t got a bike, I ain’t got no car.”

  “So on foot, then?”

  Leopold nodded slowly and then studied Decker closely, perhaps to see his reaction to this.

  Decker wrote something down on his pad. He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow even though it was cold in the basement cell. If he was discovered here, he could go to jail. And he didn’t actually like talking to people, so the briefer the better. But he had to do this. This might be his only chance.

  “So you found out where this ‘dude’ lived and then you planned to kill his family. But you waited a month or so. Why?”

  “Who said I waited a month?”

  “That’s what you told the police.”

  Leopold hunkered back down, the rat hiding among the crevices. Only there was no place to hide in here.

  “Okay, that’s right. I had to plan it out. Watch the place, see what the lay of the land was, so to speak.”

  Decker glanced down at the tattoo. “When were you in the Navy?”

  Leopold’s eyes flashed for just a second. “Who says I was?”

  Decker pointed at the tat. “Two dolphins. Sailors often have those. You have it positioned so it won’t show from under your uniform sleeve, per regulations.”

  Leopold looked down at the tat as though it had betrayed him.

  “I’m not in the Navy.”

  “So you got the lay of the land and then went there that night. Take me through it.”

  Decker glanced over his shoulder at a sound. But it was only the jailer walking down the corridor. He rubbed another bead of sweat off his cheek.

  “Take you through it?” parroted Leopold.

  “From the moment you got there to the moment you left. Let’s start with how you got there.”

  “Walked.”

  “House address?”

  Leopold hesitated. “It was a two-story, yellow siding, carport on the side.”

  “How’d you get in?”

  “Side screen door into the kitchen.”

  “Remember any details of the room?”

  “It was a damn kitchen, man. Stove, dishwasher, table, and chairs.”

  “Remember the color of the walls?”

  “No.”

  Decker glanced at his watch again. He had to speed this up, and his anxiety at being here was growing by the second.

  “Who’d you kill first?”

  “The dude. Thought it was the guy that dissed me. But I guess it wasn’t.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Pictures in the paper. After.”

  “Go on.”

  “He was at the kitchen table. Been drinking.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Leopold looked up, obviously irritated. “Why you keep me asking me that?”

  “Because the cops will. The court will. The jury will want to know these things.”

  “Hell, I confessed.”

  “They can still try you.”

  Leopold looked shocked by this. “Why?”

  “To make themselves look good. How do you know he’d been drinking?”

  “Beer bottles on the table.”

  “How’d you kill him? He was a lot bigger than you.”

  “He was drunk. I took my knife and cut him, right here.” He pointed at his neck.

  “He was found in the adjoining room.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s right. But, see, he crawled in there, after I cut him. Bleeding like a bitch. Then he, hell, he just didn’t move again.”

  “Did he make any sounds?”

  Leopold said, “Yeah, but not no loud ones.” He pointed to his neck again. “Got him here. Couldn’t make much noise.”

  “Remember what he was wearing?”

  Leopold looked blankly at him. “Long time ago. Pants? Shirt?”

  “What next?”

  “Knew he had a family. Went to go kill them too.”

  “Take me through it,” Decker said calmly, though he was feeling the opposite. His heart was beating so fast he could feel the pulses in every part of his body, like he had a thousand tiny hearts pumping madly.

  Almost there, just hang on, Amos, just hang on.

  “I went up the stairs. First room on, on—”

  “The left?” suggested Decker.

  Leopold pointed at him. “Yep. The left.”

  “And?”

  “And I went in. She was in the bath—no, she was on the bed. That’s right, on the bed. Pretty little thing. She had a nightie on. See right through it. Damn, the bitch looked good.”

  Decker gripped the edge of his chair and kept his eyes on Leopold. His wife had not been raped. That had been confirmed. But there had been something else.

  “So the light was on?” Decker asked.

  “What?”

  “You said you could see right through her nightie. I was assuming the light was on.”

  Leopold looked unsure. “No, I don’t think it was.”

  “Then what?”

  “I stood over her.”

  “While she was lying in the bed?”

  Leopold looked crossly at him. “Shit, man, can you let me tell it?”

  “Sorry, go ahead.”

  “I had my gun. I put it against her forehead and I shot her.”

  “What kind of gun?”

  Leopold answered right away. “Forty-five. Smith and Wesson.”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “Stole it off some guy.”

  “Guy have a name?”

  Leopold just shrugged.

  “Keep going.”

  Overhead Decker could hear doors opening and feet trooping around. It seemed some of the cops were returning from the high school.

  “So I shot her. No, wait a minute. She did wake up, come to think. She sat up, she was starting to scream. That’s right. And I shot her. Then the bitch fell off the bed.”

  “Flat on the floor? Her whole body?”

  Leopold looked at him warily. “Maybe parta her got hung up. Foot or arm or something.”

  “What then?”

  This was the critical point. The one that had not made it into the papers. The wound to her head was not the only one Cassie had suffered. It had been discovered during the autopsy.

  She had not been raped. But the outside of her genitals had been mutilated.

  “Knew he had a daughter. I went down the hall to her room. She was sleeping.”

  “So you were done with the woman. Nothing else with her?”

  Leopold just stared up at him. “I told you what I done. I shot her. Dead!”

  “Okay.”

  “Then I went down the hall to the kid.”

  “Wait a minute, the shot didn’t wake the girl up?”

  Leopold looked puzzled again. “I, no, don’t think so. She was sleeping.”

  “Then what?”

  “I took her outta the bed.”

  “Why?”

  “I just did. Wasn’t thinking too clearly then. Took her to the bathroom.”

  “Again, why? Not thinking too clearly?”

  “That’s right. Maybe I had to take a leak and didn’t want her getting away.”

  “Did you take a leak?”

  “Don’t remember.”

  “And she didn’t scream when she saw you?”

  “No. She was scared, I guess. And…and I told her to be quiet.”

  “Then?”

  “Then I strangled her. Put my hands around her neck and just squeezed tight as—”

  Decker put up a hand for him to stop. He looked away for a moment, the most brilliant blue blinding him. The color was so bright he thought he might be sick. It was like he was suffocating in sapphire.

  “Hey, man, you okay?” asked Leopold with genuine concern on his face.

  Decker’s forehead was drenched in perspiration. He slowly wiped it off. “Okay, you killed her, then what?”

  Leopold looked unsure again.

  Decker said, “Did you do anything with the body? Do something with her clothing?”

  Leopold snapped his fingers. “That’s right,” he said, his face beaming like he’d just got the answer right in algebra class. “I sat her up on the toilet and I tied her, uh, whatchamacallit.”

  “Her robe belt?” prompted Decker.

  “Right, her robe belt around her and the toilet.”

  “Why?”

  Leopold just stared at him. “’Cause…’cause that’s what I thought to do at the time.”

  “How’d you get away?”

  “I went out the way I came in.”

  “Did you have a car?”

  “No, I told you I walked!”

  “Anybody see you?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “What’d you do with the gun?”

  “Trash.”

  “Where?”

  “Don’t remember.”

  “The knife?”

  Leopold shrugged. “The same.”

  “You tell anybody what you did?” asked Decker.

  “Not till now.”

  “So why now?”

  Leopold shrugged again. “They gonna fry my ass?”

  “Lethal injection. Frying comes later.”

  “Huh?”

  “In hell.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Leopold chuckled like he thought Decker was making a joke. “That’s a good one.”

  “So why come forward now?” asked Decker.

  Leopold said, “Seemed as good a time as any. Ain’t had nothing else going on.”

  Decker eyed a lump on the side of Leopold’s neck. “What’s that lump? You sick?”

  Leopold reached up and gingerly touched it. “Ain’t nothing.”

  “You have it checked out?”

  Leopold snorted. “Yeah. I went to the Mayo Clinic on my jet. Paid in cash.”

  Sarcasm. Interesting.

  “If you were in the Navy you might have health coverage.”

  Leopold shook his head. “DD. Dishonorable discharge.”

  “So you were in the Navy?”

  “Yeah,” conceded Leopold.

  The sounds from above were getting louder. Decker checked his watch. Two minutes left and Brimmer seemed like the type who would show up right on time to escort him out.

  “Any PTSD?”

  “Any what?”

  “Head problems? Depression? From combat?”

  “I was never in combat.”

  “So you’re just a sick son of a bitch who wipes out a family because somebody dissed you?” Decker kept his voice level and calm.

  Leopold attempted a grin. “I guess so. I’m bad news, man. Always have been. If my momma were alive she could tell you. I’m just a shit. Screwed up every damn thing I ever touched in my whole life. No lie.”

  “And when we check your military records it’ll show you were in the Navy as Sebastian Leopold?”

  Leopold nodded, but absently, as though he weren’t really agreeing with the statement.

  Decker leaned closer. “Let me ask it clearer. Is Sebastian Leopold your real name?”

  “One I been using.”

  “Since birth or more recently?”

  “Not since birth, no.”

  “So why use that name, then, if it’s not yours?”

  “What’s in a name, man? Just letters stuck together.”

  Decker pulled out his phone and, pointing it at Leopold, said, “Say cheese.”

  He took Leopold’s picture and then put his phone away.

  Then he held out a pen and a piece of paper. “Can you write -->