Memory Man, Page 7

  down your name for me?”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just for my records.”

  Leopold took the pen and slowly wrote out his name.

  Decker took back the paper and the pen, stood, and said, “I’ll be in touch.”

  He went to the door and called for the jailer. When the man came and unlocked the door Decker said, “Memory serves, there’s a bathroom right down there, right?” He pointed the opposite way he had come in.

  The jailer nodded. “Yep, men’s room is the first door.”

  Decker stuffed his pad and pen back into the briefcase and moved swiftly down the hall toward the john. His change in plan had been prompted by the footsteps he’d heard clattering down the steps. More than one pair, which meant that Brimmer had reinforcements. Which meant they knew something was up.

  Decker walked past the door to the toilet and hung a left and then a right and hit another corridor. He was as familiar with the layout here as anyone.

  The hall ended in a door. He opened it and stepped out onto the loading dock. There was no one there. And only one truck backed up to the dock, its overhead door open, revealing the trailer to be empty.

  Decker skittered down a short stack of steps and his new, tight shoes hit asphalt. He turned left down an alley and emerged on the main street ten seconds later. He hung another right and then a left at the next intersection. There was a hotel there and a cabstand.

  He told the lead cabbie, “Head north as far as five bucks will take me.”

  The cab dropped him off a while later. He hoofed it to a bus stop, and two rides later he was back at the Residence Inn. As he stepped off the bus he noted there were two police cars parked out front and an official departmental car he knew had to belong to someone other than a street cop.

  Well, shit.

  Chapter

  10

  THE ONLY GOOD thing, figured Decker, was that he hadn’t gotten the chance to retrieve his gun from the trash can along with his other clothes. Walking in armed to the situation that was probably awaiting him would not be smart. He could run for it, he supposed, but that was probably what they were expecting. And he didn’t like running. He just wasn’t built for it anymore.

  So he loosened his tie, undid his top shirt button, let out a sigh of relief as his thick neck was freed from this glorified noose, and walked into the lobby of the Residence Inn. There he was immediately surrounded by four police officers.

  Decker studied them calmly. “With what’s going down at Mansfield I didn’t think you’d be able to spare the manpower.”

  “Cut the shit, Decker,” said a familiar voice.

  Decker slid his gaze to the side. “Hello, Mac.”

  “That’s Captain Miller to you.”

  “I’m no longer on the force.”

  “Show some respect or you might be in a jail cell before I’m done with you.”

  MacKenzie Miller was in his late fifties, puffy as a bullfrog and with similar coloring. He was as wide as he was tall, Decker in miniature. He was dressed in a suit, and when his coat moved open as Miller strode across the lobby, Decker could see the ubiquitous braces that held up the man’s pants, though his substantial waistline, like Decker’s, did that job fine all by itself.

  “And why would that be?”

  Miller gave him a patronizing look and then snapped, “Brimmer!”

  An embarrassed-looking Sally Brimmer hurried over from where she had been standing next to a fake ficus plant with a thick coating of dust on the leaves.

  “Is this the man, Ms. Brimmer?”

  “That is undoubtedly him, sir,” she said quickly, narrowing her eyes and giving Decker a venomous look.

  “Thank you,” said Miller with an undertone of triumph. He turned back to Decker. “You came into the precinct today while we were undermanned because of the horrific situation at Mansfield, and using this situation to your advantage you misrepresented yourself as a lawyer and gained admittance to Sebastian Leopold’s jail cell.”

  “Well, that’s one version,” said Decker.

  Brimmer exclaimed, “That is the only version.”

  “No, it’s actually not,” said Decker calmly.

  Miller spread his pudgy hands wide. “Then lay another on me, Decker. This has to be good.”

  “I came into the precinct and asked to see Sebastian Leopold. I said he needed a lawyer. I never said I was a lawyer.”

  “You gave me your card,” pointed out Brimmer.

  Decker’s mind had already flown forward six moves. It was like he was playing chess and they were playing checkers. “I gave you a card. It was Harvey Watkins’s. He’s a member of the bar. I’ve done PI work for him. He handles criminal cases. And he’s good. I’ve sniffed out work for him before. No law against it.”

  “But you represented yourself as this Watkins person,” exclaimed Brimmer.

  “Maybe you took it that way. But I never provided ID that said I was Harvey. And you never asked for my ID. I just gave you his card when you asked if I was an attorney.”

  “But you said you knew Pete Rourke,” said Brimmer in an exasperated tone.

  “I do know Pete. Worked with him for years. Again, no crime against telling the truth.”

  “But you…you…” Brimmer faltered and looked at Miller for help. But the captain kept his gaze on Decker. He obviously wanted to see this play out.

  Decker continued, “I guess since I had on a suit and tie and carried a briefcase you just assumed I was a lawyer. I asked you for an interview with Leopold. You said I had fifteen minutes. I took my allotted fifteen minutes, and then I left Leopold sitting in his cell.” He looked around at the cops. “So I’m not sure why the cavalry is here.”

  Brimmer looked stunned. The cops looked unsure. Miller clapped his hands in appreciation and then pointed at the uniforms. “You boys can head on.” He hooked a thumb at Brimmer. “And give the lady a ride back, will ya?”

  “Captain Miller,” Brimmer began, but he waved her off.

  “Later, Brimmer. Just go with the fellas.”

  They trooped out, leaving Miller and Decker staring at each other.

  Miller said, “Can we talk about this?”

  “You need to focus on Mansfield, Mac. You want to come back and arrest me, I’ll be right here.”

  Miller nodded and an appreciative smile broke over his features before disappearing. “Let’s sit for a few. Can I get a decent cup of coffee in this place?”

  Decker led him over to his table in the restaurant off the lobby. Then he poured out two cups of coffee from a beverage stand set up against one wall and brought them back over, sitting down across from his former boss.

  “How’s Mansfield?” asked Decker.

  “Catastrophic. We’re still finding…stuff. Bodies. The death count will go higher, no question.”

  “What about Pete’s grandson?”

  Miller shook his head. “I don’t know, Amos. I don’t have names yet. A bunch of cops’ kids go there. It’s the biggest high school we have.”

  “And the shooter?”

  Miller ground his teeth. “He got away.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t know yet. Everything is still…developing.”

  “Usually they eat their own bullet on site.”

  “But not this time. It’s like a school shooting a week now across the country. When’s it going to end, Amos? You’re a smart guy. When?”

  “I’m not that smart.”

  Miller slowly nodded while drumming his fingers on the fake wood tabletop. In several quick bursts he drank down his coffee. Rubbing his lips, he said, “Why’d you do it, Amos? Talking your way in to see that son of a bitch?”

  “Wanted to eyeball him for myself.”

  “Lot of ways to do that without doing what you did.”

  “Brimmer shouldn’t get in trouble.”

  “Well, you taught her a very valuable lesson. Don’t trust anybody.” He eyed Decker’s suit and tie. “I heard you’d gone down in the world. Was my info wrong?”

  “I was a lot farther down than this.”

  “You and Mary were a great team. Damn shame.”

  “It’s all a damn shame, isn’t it?”

  Miller crumpled up his empty paper cup. “What’d you talk to Leopold about?”

  “I have notes, if you want to see them.”

  Miller loosened his tie. “I’d rather hear them, from you.”

  “He’s a strange guy.”

  “If he killed three people in cold blood, I’d say he’s very strange. I hope someone like that is always considered ‘very strange’ no matter how screwed-up the world becomes.”

  “He had some knowledge of the crime, but nothing he couldn’t have gleaned from the papers. Or—”

  “Or what?” Miller said quickly, his light blue eyes holding steadily on Decker’s face.

  “Been told by someone who had more detailed knowledge of the crime.”

  “As in the person or persons who actually did it?”

  “Do you see Leopold as our guy?”

  “I don’t see him one way or another. All I know is he walked in early this morning and confessed. What else?”

  Decker said, “He was in the Navy. I noted the tat and he finally admitted that he was. Sebastian is probably not his real name. Checking with DoD should tell us who he is. Guy has a lump on his neck. It doesn’t seem to be causing him pain. But it might be cancerous. He was confused on some of the major details at the scene.”

  “For example?”

  “For example, he couldn’t seem to remember which side of the hall the first bedroom was on. I suggested left. He agreed. When it’s actually on the right. That’s probably not that big of a deal. But then he said he shot Cassie while she was sleeping and then changed his story to shooting her after she woke up. The wound was a contact. I don’t see how he does that if she’s awake and screaming and maybe fighting him. And she was found on the floor. I think he remembered that and changed his story to reflect it. And he didn’t mention what else was done to her.”

  Miller nodded. He obviously knew what Decker was referring to. “Go on.”

  “The guy is a little cagey, but not all there. He sort of comes and goes. I don’t think his memory is that good. Also, he’s a druggie. Needle tracks on his arm are fresh.”

  “Go on.”

  Decker had already decided not to tell him everything he had discovered or thought about. His gut told him to hold things back, see how it all played out. “He said I dissed him at my neighborhood 7-Eleven. He didn’t say if he worked there or not. Apparently he told you guys the same thing. The 7-Eleven. Now, that store? I only ever drove there. Never walked. He doesn’t have a car. But he said he followed me back to my house. So how did he do it? And I’ve never seen the guy before. I would have remembered if someone had a problem with me.”

  Miller considered all this while he rubbed one hand down his tie and fiddled with his tie clip. “You never forget anything, do you?”

  Decker had never told anyone about what had happened to him. When his condition had been diagnosed he’d been sent to a research facility outside of Chicago for additional testing. He had spent months there meeting others with similar abilities, both men and women. They had done numerous group sessions together. Some had been better adjusted than others. Some had really deep problems adjusting to what they were. Some may never have adjusted. To his knowledge, Decker had been the only one not born with his condition. The others in the group seemed to have lived with it much longer than he had, which was both a positive and a negative, he supposed.

  “Everyone forgets stuff,” he said.

  “I had you checked out. I ever tell you that?”

  Decker shook his head.

  “Knew you were a jock. Saw that play on TV.”

  “You mean on YouTube?”

  “No, I mean I was watching the game when you got laid out. Hardest hit I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how you survived it, Amos, I really don’t.”

  “Why’d you watch the game?”

  “You were a damn good player for Mansfield. Best QB we’ve ever had, kickass of a linebacker on the D side. You were fast for your size. You were a good college player. And far as I know you were the only person from the humble town of Burlington to ever play in the NFL. So, yeah, I watched the game. Would’ve gone to it if I could have.”

  “Well, good thing you did watch, since that play was my only one in the NFL.”

  Miller continued, “And I checked your scores at the police academy. And your tests for detective grade.”

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “Because I was curious about you, Amos. Don’t think the department didn’t notice your success rate as a cop and then a detective. You had something extra that the others didn’t have.”

  “Mary is a good cop.”

  “Yes, she is. Good, but not great. Good, but not perfect. But, see, your scores at the academy and later the detective’s exams were perfect. You didn’t miss a single question. They tell me it’s the first time in the history of the state. Then I went back to your college days. You were a good student, but a B student. Nothing perfect about your record back then.”

  “Football didn’t leave a lot of time for studying.”

  Miller rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. “Let’s get back to it. What else you got?”

  Decker could feel the migraine marching up the back of his neck. The lights in the room were dim, but right now they felt like three-ring circus illumination. The color blue, terrifyingly electric, was starting to seep out of all corners of life with the goal of converging on his very soul. He could sense it all building.

  “I don’t think Leopold is our guy,” he managed to say.

  “I already knew that before I sat down across from you.”

  “How’s that?” Decker asked.

  “You didn’t kill him before you left the precinct. Because that’s why you went in there, right? Size the guy up, ask your questions, stare him down, read his mind, see if he was the guy? And if you decided he was, no more Leopold.” He looked Decker over. “Easy enough. Football player, strong as a horse. You might be way out of shape now, but you are still one big dude. Leopold wouldn’t have had a chance.”

  “You can’t arrest someone for thinking about committing a crime.”

  “No, and sometimes that’s more a curse than a blessing.”

  “So why the riot act with the cops and Brimmer here?”

  “I’m the captain, but I have bosses too.”

  “So this was a CYA visit?”

  Miller surged to his feet and adjusted his tie, sliding the knot back up to his Adam’s apple.

  Decker looked up at him, the migraine starting to beat against all sides of his brain. He half closed his eyes to keep out even the dim light that felt like a million incandescent bulbs. “So what are you going to do?”

  “With you, nothing. Now Leopold will be arraigned based on his confession. After that we either confirm his story or we prove it false. I’ll seriously consider all that you’ve told me. At the end of the investigation he either stays locked up, goes to trial or cops a plea, or he goes free.”

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