The Fallen Read online

  He rubbed his hand along his back and stretched. “No permanent damage, it seems,” he said, though he did wince in pain.

  “He threw his drink in my face,” said the first man. “He started it.”

  The bartender said, “No he didn’t. You jerks did.”

  Decker snapped, “And it’s three on one and you guys are half his age?”

  “You needn’t detain them,” said Baron.

  “What?” said Decker.

  Baron next looked at the bartender, who had started to punch in 911 on her phone. “You don’t have to do that. These young men are obviously a bit intoxicated. I’m sure they meant no harm.”

  “I’m pretty sure they meant a lot of harm,” countered Decker. “To you.”

  Baron held up his hand. “Nevertheless, it really won’t do any good to have them arrested. And it might do far more bad.”

  “You sure?”

  “Quite sure, thank you.”

  Decker glared at the men. “You so much as think about touching this guy, your asses are mine. Do you understand?”

  The largest of them glared at Decker as he wiped scotch from his eyes. “Whatever.”

  Decker holstered his gun, marched forward, grabbed him by his shirt, and slammed him up against the wall. “No, not ‘whatever.’ Do you understand?”

  “I understand, I understand, okay? Shit!”

  Decker let him go and pushed him toward the exit. “Now clear out!”

  The three men slowly left, each of them looking back at Decker and Baron before the last one slammed the door behind him.

  Decker looked at Baron. “What was that all about?”

  “Didn’t you hear?”

  “No, I apparently came in too late.”

  “Well, the gist of it was that the town is going to hell and it’s my fault.”

  “Okay,” said Decker slowly.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, and it’s doubtful it will be the last.”

  “So people here hold grudges, I take it?”

  “People here hold many things. Can I buy you a drink as a way of thanks?”

  Decker sat down at the bar and Baron resumed his seat.

  He put out a hand. “Formal introductions. I’m John Baron the Fourth.”

  Decker shook his hand. “Amos Decker. I take it the town is named after your family?”

  “You would be correct in that, yes. It used to be a good thing, actually. A point of pride. It no longer is, I’m afraid. Well, I suppose you saw that for yourself.”

  The bartender said, “Whatever you want, it’s on the house, John. And here, take this.” She handed him a plastic baggie of ice, which he placed against the bruise on his face.

  “Very kind of you, Cindi,” said Baron, smiling at her. He ordered a fresh scotch and soda. Decker asked for a beer.

  “Here on business?” asked Baron.

  “Vacation.”

  Baron looked bemused. “You actually came here for…pleasure?”

  “My partner has family here. She’s visiting. I tagged along. We’re staying with them.”

  Baron took a sip of his drink. “And where is your partner now?”

  “Back at the house. I wasn’t ready to go to sleep.”

  “And are you enjoying our little paradise?”

  “Can’t say that I am, actually. Maybe it has to do with a bunch of murders.”

  Baron nodded thoughtfully. “I heard about that. Sounded pretty awful. But hard times lead to bad things.”

  “That’s your explanation?”

  “I don’t have an explanation. I’m just slowly becoming drunk and jabbering away.”

  “Do you do that often?”

  “I don’t have much else to do. I come here for about an hour once a week, and then I go home and never leave until I come back here, except to run a short errand or two. And I really have no obligations or responsibilities to get in the way of that little routine.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Maybe not so lucky, actually. So, when you came in you called out, ‘FBI.’ Are you a special agent or was that just hyperbole?”

  “I’m just a regular cop, but I work with the Bureau.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Burlington, Ohio. Rust Belt town like this one.”

  “Indeed. And have you been reading into the town’s history and my family’s culpability in its demise?”

  “A little.”

  “It’s partly true, you know. The town was created because my ancestor, after whom I’m named, discovered a particularly rich vein of coal. Much of it went to Pittsburgh for the blast furnaces in the steel mills. That was why he built coal and coke plants too. And after that he built textile mills. And then he discovered natural gas. He also ran many other businesses and actually owned much of Baronville. In fact, most of the town was in his employ back then. A regular Energizer Bunny of an entrepreneur, with far more luck and capitalistic drive than his family has experienced since.”

  “I heard about all the businesses he built. But I hadn’t heard about the steel component.”

  Baron nodded. “The coke used in making steel is derived from coal after it undergoes a distillation process. And back then coal was abundant and relatively cheap. Steel magnates flourished, and so did those who supplied their enterprises. In that regard John Baron Sr. was following a tried-and-true formula. He was a ruthless man, so I understand. He crushed unions, paid off corrupt politicians, polluted rivers and the air and the ground. He paid his workers as little as he possibly could and treated people in general as badly as he could. He made an immense fortune and his descendants sponged off that accomplishment.”

  “But then it all came tumbling down?”

  “It almost always comes tumbling down. America, in general, doesn’t like economic dynasties. Families like the Rockefellers are the exception rather than the rule. We each pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps. Or at least that’s how the theory is supposed to work. I guess there are enough people on the Forbes List who inherited their money to lay waste to that supposition.”

  “But your family still had money?”

  “Some. At least for a time.”

  “Did you know any of the people murdered?”

  Baron looked over at him with a curious expression. “That’s quite an abrupt segue. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m a cop. I ask questions in the hope of solving crimes.”

  “Who were the victims again?”

  Decker told him. “The last two have not been identified yet.”

  “I can’t say that I know any of them.”

  However, Decker noticed the man’s hesitation.

  “You sure about that?”

  Baron held up his drink. “I’m hardly ever sure of anything. Especially in the Mercury Bar.”

  Decker glanced at the bartender, who was listening intently to their conversation while pretending to wipe down the bar. She was quite beautiful, with shoulder-length blonde hair and a tall, lean figure outfitted in black jeans and a sleeveless blouse revealing wiry tanned arms.

  Decker looked back at Baron. “You really come here once a week?”

  “There’s hardly any other place to go.” He glanced at the bartender. “And I prefer the company here.”

  The woman smiled at this, caught Decker staring at her, and quickly turned her attention to putting dirty glasses into a dishwasher behind the bar.

  “Can I get your address?”

  “Why?” asked Baron.

  “I may want to talk to you again.”

  “Why?”

  “I already told you. I’m a cop trying to solve a crime.”

  “Well, then look to the highest spot in town and you will see the biggest, ugliest home. FYI, the doorbell does not work and I don’t get up early.”

  Baron drained his glass and inclined his head at the bartender and slid some cash across to pay for the drinks. “Thank you, Cindi. See you next time.” He patted Decker on the shoulder. “And than
k you, Mr. Decker, for saving my ass.”

  He walked unsteadily away.

  “Hey, are you okay to drive?” Decker called after him.

  Baron turned, gave a low bow, and held up a hand. “I am absolutely not okay to drive, but I will make a valiant attempt regardless, considering the odds are very good that whatever I might hit will have my family’s name engraved upon it, which will lessen my legal liability.”

  Decker watched him go for a few moments and then turned back to the bartender.

  Only she was gone too.

  Chapter 13

  FILES. AND MORE files.

  Paper bones with very little meat.

  Decker dropped the last of them on a pile in the middle of the desk, sat back, and breathed in the stale air that seemed to permeate Baronville’s police headquarters on Baron Boulevard. Right next door was Baronville City Hall.

  Jamison sat across from him taking notes. Decker, with his perfect memory, never needed to do that. He idly watched her pen gliding over the paper. The door opened a moment later and Detective Green came in.

  “Any luck?” he asked as he popped a stick of gum into his mouth.

  Jamison finished the sentence she was writing and looked up.

  Decker closed his eyes. “Joyce Tanner and Toby Babbot were unemployed. Michael Swanson was a drug dealer. Bradley Costa was an SVP at a bank. And they all lived alone. No family. Tanner had been married but subsequently got divorced.”

  Green closed the door behind him. “Yeah, well, that we already knew.”

  Decker opened his eyes. “What was Babbot’s disability?” He glanced at Green, who was taking a seat across from him.

  “The file just said he was disabled,” pointed out Jamison. “It didn’t say how or why.”

  “Is that relevant?” asked Green.

  “Everything is relevant until you can show it’s not,” said Decker.

  “I’ll check.” Green leaned back in his chair. “So, nothing really jumped out at you?” he asked.

  Before either Decker or Jamison could answer, the door opened again and Lassiter came in. She was dressed in a beige jacket and knee-length skirt with chunky heels. Her hair was loose around her shoulders.

  “So, have I missed anything at the powwow?” she asked, taking a seat next to Green.

  “Not much,” said her partner. “Just a follow-up question that may or may not be ‘relevant.’”

  Decker stared at the opposite wall. “I met John Baron last night.”

  Jamison looked surprised by this but kept silent.

  Decker continued, “Some young punks were roughing him up. I intervened. But he declined to press charges. Any idea why?”

  “Guilt, maybe,” replied Green.

  “About what?” asked Jamison.

  “It’s complicated,” said Lassiter.

  “I’ve got lots of time,” replied Decker. “I’m technically on vacation.” He clasped his hands in front of him and studied her with an expectant expression.

  Lassiter looked uncomfortably at Green and said, “Okay, the Baron family basically exploited this place and then sold out to companies that eventually shuttered everything. They lived in great luxury high up on the hill, while the rest of the town suffered and slowly died. And we’re still dying.”

  “Did the present John Baron have anything to do with that?” asked Decker.

  Lassiter shook her head. “No. He was in college when his parents died. But he’s lived up there ever since.”

  “So why blame him?” asked Jamison.

  “He’s a Baron,” interjected Green.

  “So guilt by association?” said Jamison.

  “I’m not saying it’s right or fair, I’m just saying that’s how it is,” replied Green. “I’ve personally got nothing against the guy. He never hurt me or anyone I cared about.”

  “Lucky you,” said Lassiter.

  Jamison looked at her. “Did he hurt someone you cared about?”

  Lassiter put up a hand. “It has nothing to do with anything.”

  Green added with a glance at Decker, “And to paraphrase you, I don’t see how this little trip into the sordid history of Baronville is helping us solve six murders.”

  Decker said, “I asked Baron if he knew any of the vics and he said he didn’t.”

  “Well, other than maybe the banker, I wouldn’t imagine he would,” observed Lassiter. “A street-level drug dealer doesn’t exactly run in the same circles as a Baron.”

  Decker said, “Even though you claim he moves in different ‘circles,’ maybe he does know Swanson or one of the others.”

  “So you didn’t believe his answer?” asked Green sharply.

  “I don’t believe anyone, initially,” replied Decker.

  “Okay, but do you have any helpful thoughts?” Green indicated the pile of files.

  “We need to run through all the vics again, because I believe they have to be connected,” said Decker.

  “We already did that,” protested Green.

  “Fresh eyes,” countered Decker. “We’ll need the keys to all their places.”

  “But we haven’t even identified the last two,” pointed out Lassiter.

  “But you have the other four.”

  Green said in a disappointed tone, “I guess it was wishful thinking, but I thought you Feds would swoop in and solve this sucker overnight.”

  “Did your partner fill you in on your ME’s time-of-death and other related screw-ups?” asked Decker.

  Green looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, she did. Blowflies and livor mortis. That was a good catch, actually. We’re looking at it all again.”

  “Great, while you’re doing that, let me throw you another bone so you feel like we’re swooping onto something.”

  “What bone?” asked Lassiter.

  “Ask your ME to check to see if the ‘nonhuman’ blood found at the crime scene is pig’s blood. I think he can probably do that without screwing it up.”

  “Pig’s blood?” exclaimed Green. “Why in the world would you think that?”

  “You watch any old cop shows?”

  “What, you mean Law & Order?” asked Green.

  “Farther back than that.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” asked Lassiter.

  “It might have everything to do with it,” replied Decker.

  Chapter 14

  PIG’S BLOOD?” SAID Jamison as they drove down the street.

  “Just a shot in the dark. Let’s see how it plays out.”

  “You didn’t tell me you met with John Baron last night.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Tall, lean, thick graying hair, in his fifties. Good-looking guy. Elegant, like a movie star or model. And erudite, with a formal way of speaking. But he’s handy with a quip. And even though the punks were a lot younger than he was, it looks like he tagged a couple of them before they got the upper hand. So the guy can fight.”

  “He was really attacked at the bar?”

  “Three idiots who apparently have a grudge against the Barons.”

  “Well, if Lassiter is any indication, the whole town seems to hold a grudge. Do you really think their surname is Baron? That seems coincidental.”

  “I really haven’t looked into that, nor do I care,” replied Decker.

  “Do you actually believe Baron’s involved in the murders?”

  “I have no idea. But when I asked him if he knew any of the vics, I didn’t believe his answer.”

  “Why?”

  “My gut.”

  “Well, your gut has proven pretty accurate.”

  “Good thing, since I have such a big one.”

  “Pretty fast with a quip yourself. So where to?”

  “Joyce Tanner’s place. We’ll take them one at a time.”

  * * *

  Joyce Tanner’s “place” was a basement apartment in a rickety wooden building that looked as though a strong gust of wind might bri
ng it down.

  Green had provided Decker with a key.

  “Surprised Green and Lassiter didn’t insist on coming,” observed Jamison as they gazed around the small front room.

  “As Green not so subtly intimated, I think they’re disappointed we haven’t already solved it. I don’t think they want to waste any more time with us. And Lassiter didn’t even want us involved in the first place.”

  “That may have changed. I seemed to connect with her. But, boy, she really doesn’t like the Baron family.”

  “Based on what I saw last night, I doubt you’d find many here that do like the past or present Barons. There were about twenty people in the bar last night and not one of them did anything to help the guy. Didn’t even take out their phones to call the cops.” He paused. “Except for the bartender. She seemed to like him. And he definitely liked her.”

  “Place looks pretty tidy,” noted Jamison, gazing around.

  “They’ve already dusted for prints, so no need for latex gloves. Let’s get to it.”

  * * *

  “Not much here,” opined Jamison after they finished searching. “I wonder what will happen to her personal belongings?”

  “Green said she has a distant cousin in Kentucky coming in.”

  “A bit after the fact.”

  “Apparently it’s her only family. She and her ex divorced a long time ago and he left the area. They had no kids.”

  He sat on the bed and looked around. What Decker liked more than anything else was to use his prodigious memory to spot inconsistencies. It was almost like placing a template over some fresh material. If something, no matter how seemingly insignificant, didn’t match, he would be able to spot it.

  Yet somehow that method had failed him here.

  But other assets he possessed had not. Like common sense.

  “Green said she’d been living here for about a year,” he noted.

  “Right.”

  “The file also said she got laid off from JC Penney six months ago and had been unemployed ever since.”

  “Right again.”

  “So how did she pay her rent and other expenses? Her unemployment check couldn’t cover all of it. And if she had a bunch of money in savings, I doubt she’d be living in a place like this. And the file said her retail job offered no severance.”