Memory Man (Amos Decker 1)

Jamison yawned. “So if Sebastian Leopold is involved, why would he have told the cops you dissed him at the 7-Eleven if you didn’t?”

“You mean why would a murderer lie?”

“I mean, how could you not know him if you did something so bad he’s doing all this in retaliation? And his crazy act could just be that, an act. But this guy strikes me as literal. Your family, Mansfield High. The communications to you, can you tell me what they were about?”

“One was written on the wall at my old house.”

“What did it say?”

He repeated the message to her.

“And the others?”

He told her about the code embedded in the musical score on Debbie Watson’s wall. And then the words carved into Lafferty.

“Jesus,” she exclaimed. “So he refers to you as ‘bro’ in each message?”

Decker nodded.

“And he also says you two are a lot alike. That you’re all the other has.”

“Yes.”

“And with the last message he’s asserting that you actually have control of this thing. That you can determine when to end it.”

Decker looked at her. “Meaning him or me.”

“And he obviously wants to be the one left standing.”

“I would expect so.”

“Okay. But it seems to me that he feels like he’s in competition with you. Brothers. Part of something that we’re just not seeing.”

Decker opened his eyes. “Like a team?”

“You were never in the military?”

He shook his head.

“Then maybe like a team.”

“I already told you, I was never good enough to tick someone off in football. I never took somebody’s position and along with it a paycheck. Besides, I can’t see someone murdering all these people because he was third string to my second string on a college football team. And in the pros I was just a spare piece of meat. I was never missed.”

“But you’re convinced Leopold is involved in this?”

“Yes.”

“Based on your gut?”

“Based on the fact that he’s disappeared. I’ve checked every homeless shelter in town. He’s never been to any of them. He played me. He walked out of that bar knowing that he was going to disappear. And the waitress was working with him. The waitress is the other person. The one with the beef against me. She’s the one I really want.”

“But you mentioned that this waitress might be a man.”

“Yes. Our shooter, in fact. Leopold was in lockup both times. It had to be the other one.”

“And he used the stuff you found at the school to make himself appear bigger.”

“Pretty clever since the cops live and die by physical description. Once they get that height and size in their heads they never look at anyone outside that box. It’s just beaten into us.”

“So Leopold and/or the shooter might know how cops think?”

“Yes.”

Jamison mulled this over. “Then the only direct fact he’s really told anyone is that you dissed him at your local 7-Eleven. But you’re sure he’s lying about that. So we have to go back to that and start from there—Decker?”

Decker had lurched to his feet and was looking down at her.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You said it was our only direct fact.”

“Right, I know. But—”

“But it’s not.”

“Not what?”

“A fact.”

He hurried from the storage space without another word. She jumped to her feet, grabbed her bag, and followed.

Chapter

39

DECKER AND JAMISON sat across from Lancaster at police headquarters. Decker had briefly explained how he came to be working with Jamison and also why he was here.

“We’ve torn apart my storage unit but there was nothing there,” he added. “And then it occurred to me that I had made an assumption that was based on something that had not been confirmed. I accepted as a fact something that had not been proven to be a fact. That’s why we’re here.”

“And so you want to hear my interview notes with Leopold after he was taken into custody?” asked Lancaster.

“Yes. As precise as you can make them, Mary. Every word counts. Literally.”

Lancaster looked a little apprehensive but then collected her pages and set them in front of her. “Well, to start off, he didn’t say much. In fact, he wasn’t making much sense. As soon as he finished I thought his best bet would be to plead diminished capacity.”

“I don’t think his capacity is diminished at all. Quite the opposite,” replied Decker. “Just read me what he said. And if you can remember anything else, that would be helpful too.”

“Well, I guess we’ve got nothing to lose.” She looked sternly at Jamison. “But just so we’re crystal clear, one word of this ends up in a newspaper or other media outlet, I will lock you up personally and forget you’re there. You’re on my shit list already for that crap you wrote about Amos.”

Jamison held her hands up in mock surrender, but her tone was deadly serious. “It never will, Detective Lancaster. Not from me. And I am a shit for what I wrote. I shouldn’t have done it, but I did. And now I’m trying to make it right. It’s all I can do.”

Lancaster ran a critical gaze over her. “And Jackson was really your college professor?”

“He was a lot more than that. He was my mentor. Easily verifiable if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” Lancaster said curtly. “Then I guess we’re all on the same page and the same team.” She looked down at her notes and started reading. When she got to the part about Decker dissing Leopold at the 7-Eleven, Decker stopped her.

“Those were his exact words? I dissed him at the 7-Eleven?”

“Yes. I told you that before.”

“What did you ask him next?”

“Well, I asked him which 7-Eleven. I was trying to see if his story made any sense. We don’t get many folks walking into the precinct and copping to a triple homicide a year and a half after the fact.”

“And he said the local 7-Eleven near me?”

Lancaster looked down at her notes again and frowned. “No, he actually said that you’d know which one.” She glanced up. “I guess I just assumed that you would know at which 7-Eleven you had dissed the guy. At least dissed him in his mind.”

“So he never said the local 7-Eleven? The one near my house at Fourteenth and DeSalle?”

Lancaster paled, and when she spoke her voice was strained. “No, Amos, he didn’t. That was a leap of logic for us both, I guess. But I should not have made that assumption. That was a rookie mistake.”

“I made it too, Mary.”

Lancaster still looked crestfallen.

“Can I see your notes?” he asked.

She handed them across and he started reading through them.

Lancaster glanced at Jamison, leaned forward, and said in a low voice, “So how do you enjoy working with Decker? I did it for about ten years. No two days were ever the same.”