“Do you want to get divorced, Earl?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I? It’s not like I can stop her.”
Decker glanced at the woman again. She smiled, but when he didn’t return it, she abruptly looked away.
“Well, regardless, I think you’ve already made your choice.”
Earl’s features turned angry. “I don’t need to be judged by you, okay?”
“I’m not judging anybody. I’m simply making an observation. If I’m wrong, tell me so and I’ll say I’m sorry.”
Earl’s anger dissipated. “Look, it’s true, Nancy and I are seeing each other. But Mary and I stopped…well, we stopped living really as husband and wife a while back. If you know what I mean. And I didn’t start seeing her until Mary told me our marriage was over. I swear to God.”
“I believe you. And how is Sandy taking it?”
“She doesn’t really understand.”
“I think she probably understands more than you think.”
“We’ll get by. We have to.”
“No argument there. Hope everything works out for you. All of you,” he added.
“I know why you’re in town. Mary told me. The Hawkins case. You know one of the victims, David Katz, owned this place?”
Decker nodded. “And now his widow does. You know Rachel Katz?”
“Yeah, I know her. She’s involved in lots of projects around town.”
“She apparently has big plans for Burlington.”
“Well, the town needs a shot of energy. Glad she’s doing what she’s doing.”
“Okay,” said Decker.
“I, uh, better be getting back. Good to see you, Amos.”
“Yeah.”
Earl retreated to his table, where Decker watched him and the woman named Nancy talking and snatching glances at him. He picked up his menu and waved the waitress over after he’d made his decision. She was in her thirties, tall and skinny. A young man was behind her. She introduced him as Daniel, a trainee. He looked to be in his twenties, with dark hair and sharply defined features. He smiled shyly and then watched the waitress, his order pad held out like hers.
When Decker ordered, she smiled and wrote it down. “That’s a lot of food.”
“Well, I’m a lot of guy,” replied Decker.
Daniel laughed along with the waitress.
When his meal came, he ate it methodically, all the while looking around the restaurant. When Earl and his friend left, they did not look in his direction, for which Decker was glad. He was not adept at these moments. Things he could say before his brain injury were impossible to get out now, even if the underlying emotions were inside him. Or else he would blurt out the wrong thing and make everyone uncomfortable.
Mary divorcing. So that was the explanation for her odd behavior. He felt sorry for both Earl and her. Yet he felt sorriest of all for Sandy. He would like to talk to Mary about it but was afraid he would just botch it.
He finished his meal and ordered a cup of coffee. Whenever the door opened, a chilly wind leaked into the space. He would have to get a heavier coat if he was going to stay here much longer. He wasn’t that far removed from the days when the only clothes he had were the ones he was wearing.
As he was drinking his coffee, a voice said, “Why do I think you’re not really here for the food?”
Decker looked up to see Captain Miller standing next to his table. He was dressed in a suit, but his necktie was loosened. He might have just come from work.
He sat down across from Decker.
Decker said, “I saw Earl. And his lady friend, Nancy.”
Miller slowly nodded. “Okay. Then you know.”
“I know they’re getting divorced. And I heard his side of things. Not Mary’s.”
“Then you need to ask Mary for her take, if you want to. I suggested that to you back at the police station. So, any startling revelations come to you about this restaurant since you were here last?”
“The coffee still sucks.”
“Anything else?”
Decker looked around the mostly empty space.
“Why does Rachel Katz still own it?”
Chapter 16
COCOON, THOUGHT DECKER.
At their meeting Rachel Katz had crossed her arms and legs before settling in to answer his more serious questions. People often cocooned like that when they were getting ready to lie, or at least be evasive. It was as though they were wrapping themselves in themselves, to keep everyone else out. It was an instinctual physical reaction with people, and even though it wasn’t a foolproof indicator of someone lying, Decker had found it pretty accurate.
So, what was she lying or being evasive about?
He filed that query away since he had no way to answer it yet.
He was presently standing in front of the Richardses’ old house. But he was looking at another house that was two homes over from the Richardses’. This was the only house that was still occupied by the people who had lived here when the murders occurred. Back then Decker had interviewed them and the other neighbors. Out of that he had gotten a big fat zero’s worth of help. He hoped the second time was the charm, because Decker seriously doubted he would get a third bite at the apple.
“Mr. DeAngelo, do you remember me?”
Decker stared down at the short, balding, rotund man in his sixties who had opened the door at his knock. Though it was chilly outside he was dressed in a stained undershirt that emphasized his potbelly, and khaki pants with the zipper partially open. He had a cloth napkin in his hand and was wiping his mouth.
He looked quizzically at Decker before recognition breached his features.
“You’re that detective. Pecker?”
“Decker. Amos Decker.”
“Right, right.”
Decker glanced at the napkin. “Looks like I interrupted your dinner.”
“No, we were just finishing up. Come on in.”
DeAngelo closed the door behind Decker, whose nostrils were immediately assailed with the mingled aromas of garlic and pesto.
“Smells good,” he said as he glanced around the tidy interior.
“You want some? Ma made plenty. Always does.” He playfully grabbed his belly. “Why I’m so fat.”
“No, thanks. I already ate.”
“Ma?” called out DeAngelo. “Look who’s here.”
A petite, gray-haired woman came out from the kitchen drying her hands on a dishtowel. She wore a full apron over her skirt and blouse.
“Mrs. DeAngelo, I’m Amos Decker. I used to work as a detective on the local police force.”
“That’s right. I remember.” She looked him up and down. “Heard you moved.”
“I did, but now I’m back. At least for a little while.”
“Well, come in and sit, sit,” said Mrs. DeAngelo. “Would you like some wine?”
“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.”
She brought the wine and poured out three glasses and they all sat in the small living room that held the exact same furniture as the last time Decker had been here.
“We’re retired now,” said DeAngelo. “Well, I am. Ma always took care of the kids and the house. Hell, worked harder than I ever did, taking care of them.”