Читать книгу: «False Prophet», страница 2
“But it was Sunday.”
Mercedes looked confused. “I work only four hours. Missy Lilah call me and say house is a mess. So I come. That is not every week. Mebbe I work Sundays one time a month. But only if someone watch my kids.”
“And what time did you leave?”
“I leave fife, fife-thurdy, mebbe. Everythin’ is okay. Missy Lilah tell me she go out with her brother so I don’ have to make dinner.”
Decker smoothed his mustache. “Missy Lilah was going out to dinner with her brother?”
“Jes.”
“Was she with her brother when you left?”
“No, he don’ come yet, but she say she go to dinner with him. She go to dinner with him mebbe one or two time a week.”
“What’s her brother’s name, Mercedes?”
“El Doctor Freddy.”
“El Doctor Freddy?”
“Jes.”
“Does El Doctor Freddy have a last name—nom de familia?”
“Same as Missy Lilah.”
“Freddy Brecht?”
“I thin’ his name is Señor Frederick.”
“Frederick Brecht?”
“I thin’ so.”
“And he’s a physician? Un doctor de la medicina?”
“Sí. He work at the spa. But he don’ work there all the time.”
“He has another office?”
“I thin’ so.”
“Do you know where his other office is? Usted sabe donde está su otra oficina?”
Mercedes shook her head.
Decker said, “You’re doing great. Muy bien. You didn’t see El Doctor Freddy come inside the house?”
“No.”
“Does Doctor Freddy have a key to the house?”
Mercedes scrunched up her forehead in concentration. “I thin’ … jes.”
Decker wrote down: No forced entry and Dr. Freddy may have a key. “And Doctor Freddy wasn’t there when you left to go home.”
“No, he don’ come yet.”
“But Missy Lilah was home.”
“Jes, she come home around four from the spa, all wet. She do very much exercise. She very, very skinny, but es okay ’cause she don’t throw up like muchas mujeres at the spa. She tell me all the women throw up to be skinny. I thin’ that’s no good.”
“I don’t think that’s good either.”
“But Missy Lilah no throw up to be skinny. But she do muchas exercise. Mucho tiempo corriendo. En la calle, en la montaña, todo el tiempo, ella corrió.”
Decker wrote: Lilah obsessive runner. “Does she ever run at night?”
“I don’ know.”
If she did, it would put a new slant on the incident. After dinner with her brother, Lilah went out for a midnight run. Then someone familiar with her habits waited for her to return exhausted from her jog, and forced his way in. After she opened the safe, he attacked her, then tossed the room. That play-by-play would also be consistent with no forced entry.
Decker excused himself a moment, stood and walked around the room, wincing as pain pierced his upper body. Even though the gunshot wounds were in the left arm and shoulder, he found that stretching his spine mitigated the throbbing in his extremities. He extracted a couple of extra-strength Tylenols from his shirt pocket and popped them into his mouth, swallowing without water, the movement as reflexive as breathing. Having worked his way off codeine, then Percodan, he’d been alternating with the over-the-counter analgesics—one day Tylenol, the next Advil. Almost eight months to the day, his recovery was good but still incomplete. The OTC tablets helped take the edge off, but he knew there’d come a time when he would have to learn to live without the medicine and with the pain.
He stretched again, then sat and said, “Mercedes, when you came in this morning, did you notice anything different about the house before you went into Missy Lilah’s bedroom?”
“No, nothing.”
“Everything was in order.”
“Jes.”
“None of the furniture was moved or the vases put on a different table … anything like that?”
“No. Jus’ the door to Missy Lilah’s bedroom is open. She like it closed.”
“But nothing different in the living room, dining room?”
She shook her head.
“The front door was locked?”
“Jes. I use my key to come in.”
“You have a key?”
“Jes.”
“Anyone else in your family know you have a key to her house?”
Mercedes’s face flushed with fear. “Ninguna persona! I keep it in especial place.”
“So you’re positive that no one has the key to Missy Lilah’s house.”
“Ninguna persona en mi familia. Jus’ me.”
Decker told her he believed her, but kept the question open in his mind. “When you came in this morning, did you go straight to the bedroom? Or did you do something else first? Hang up your coat and purse, start the washing machine?”
“I hang up my coat and look around. Everythin’ is okay. Entonces, I see the door open—”
“The bedroom door?”
“Jes, the bedroom door. I go to close it, I see Missy Lilah—”
Covering her face, she burst into sudden tears, sobbing for a full minute, Decker waiting until the crying subsided. Mercedes reached inside her purse, found wrinkled tissue and wiped her eyes. “She be okay, Missy Lilah?”
“I think so.”
“I pray to Dios—to Jesús—she be okay. I go to church today to pray for Missy Lilah.”
“It’s good to pray,” Decker said.
“Jes.”
“Makes you feel better?”
Mercedes nodded. “Everyone need ayuda—help.”
Ain’t that the truth. Decker patted her hand. “Mercedes, do you clean Missy Lilah’s room every day?”
“Jes.”
“You clean inside her closet?”
“Jes, I vacuum every day there. She don’ like the dust.”
“In the closet, there’s a big safe.”
“Jes.”
“You dust the safe?”
“Jes, every day.”
“Did you dust the safe yesterday?”
“Jes, every day.”
“Do you wear gloves when you dust the safe?”
“I don’ wear gloves, only when I clean the toilet.”
“So it’s possible that your hands touched the safe. Es posible que su mano ha tacado la puerta de la caja de seguridad?”
“Sí, es posible.”
Benny had pulled some latents from the safe. The maid was going to have to be inked for print comparison. But there was a good side to her compulsive cleaning; the safe had been wiped clean every day. If some of the latents belonged to Lilah, she had to have opened the safe after Mercedes cleaned it yesterday. Had she been forced to open it? Or maybe she put something valuable inside yesterday and someone had known about it.
Decker scribbled a few notes—questions he’d bring up with Lilah. Hopefully, she’d be completely conscious by late afternoon, in good-enough shape to be interviewed briefly. “We’re just about done, Mercedes. Just a few more questions. I want to talk about the man who works with the horses.”
“Señor Carl?”
“Yes. He says he lives in the stables. Is that true?”
“Jes.”
“How long has he lived there?”
“Four, fife years. He come after me, but he work for Missy Lilah for a long time.”
“You see him a lot?”
“No.”
“If something breaks in the house, who fixes it?”
Mercedes thought. “Missy Lilah send someone—different peoples. Sometimes people from her work.”
“From her work? You mean the spa?”
“Jes.”
“Which people?”
“Diferentes. I thin’ sometimes a boy comes to pick the vegetables.”
“A boy? A muchacho?”
“No. More old. His name is Mike.”
“Mike,” Decker repeated. “Do you know his last name?”
Mercedes shook her head.
“But he works at Lilah’s spa?”
“Jes, I thin’.”
“Okay,” Decker said. “So Señor Carl doesn’t fix things in the house.”
“No. Jus’ work with the horses, mebbe pick vegetables, también. I don’ know.”
“Do you ever make breakfast or lunch for Señor Carl?”
“No.”
“Do you make him snacks? Give him some juice when the weather gets hot?”
“No, he stay out of the house, I stay in the house. We don’ talk, mebbe jus’ one or two time a year. He come to the house and ask for Missy Lilah. But he never come in the house.”
“Does he ever use the bathroom in the house?”
“No, I thin’ he have a toilet.”
“You ever wash his clothes?”
Mercedes shook her head.
Decker leaned in close and whispered, “Does he scare you?”
The maid wrinkled her lips and shook her head. “No, he don’ scare me. Missy Lilah say he nice. I thin’ he nice, too. But I thin’, he’s a little …” With her right index finger, she made air circles next to her right temple.
“A little crazy?”
“Mebbe. But I thin’ he love Missy Lilah. One time, Missy Lilah and her brother have a bad fight outside. Missy Lilah don’ let her brother in the house and he get mad. Señor Carl hear it and he get real mad.” She demonstrated his anger by wrinkling her nose and balling her fist. “He go in of the stable and get a big shobel. He show it to El Doctor and jell at him, and make him go away.”
“It was a bad fight?”
“Jes, very bad.”
“Does Missy Lilah fight a lot with Doctor Freddy?”
“Oh, no!” Mercedes was wide-eyed. “Missy Lilah no fight with Doctor Freddy, never. This was el otro doctor, su otro hermano.”
Decker digested that. “She has two brothers?”
“Jes.”
“And both are doctors?”
“Jes. El otro doctor come here mebbe two or three time since I work here. Missy Lilah don’ like him. He come and dey fight. Señor Carl, he chase him away last time. Jell at him, shake his shobel. Say: ‘Go away. Go away or I kill you.’”
“What’s el otro doctor’s name?”
“Missy Lilah don’ tell me. She just call him su otro hermano.”
“How do you know he’s a doctor?”
Mercedes was silent. “I don’ remember. I jus’ know he’s a doctor.”
“When Carl chased him away, how long ago was that?”
“I thin’ mebbe two years ago.”
“You haven’t seen su otro hermano in two years?”
“No.”
“Okay, let’s go back to Señor Carl. You think he’s a little crazy? Un poco loco?”
“More estupid.”
“You ever see him be crazy with Missy Lilah?”
Mercedes shook her head.
“Did he ever act crazy with you?”
Again a shake of the head.
Decker checked his watch. It was almost noon and his stomach was growling. But before lunch, he wanted to check out Señor Totes himself. Marge should have picked the stable hand’s brain by now. He’d confer with her, then ask Totes about the fight Lilah had with her other doctor brother. Maybe send Marge down to the spa to check out this Mike character. He pocketed his notepad and thanked the maid for her time.
3
“Be it ever so humble …” Marge smiled. “May not be much, but Totes calls it home. Makes my place look pretty high-end.”
Decker smiled, his eyes examining the horseless stall. The wooden floor was clean, most of it covered by a moth-eaten, hand-loomed rug. An army cot lay in the middle of the area, brown standard-issue blankets folded neatly at its foot. Against the back was a two-burner hot plate plugged into an electrical socket. Jammed into the corners were piles of canned goods, a broom, a mop, and a dustpan. Wooden wall knobs, ordinarily used to hang tack, held dirty denim overalls and dust-covered work shirts on the left side, a bath towel, a circular kitchen towel, and a heavy skillet on the right. Not a lot of living space, but then again, the horses never complained.
“A bit of a contrast from the main house,” Marge said. “Notice all the antiques at her place?”
Decker nodded.
“And not just the furniture—all the vases and bowls and rugs and pillows and shit. She put a lot of money into decorating. Spa must do well.”
Decker shrugged. “Is there a john here?”
“He’s got a chemical toilet out back.” Marge wrinkled her nose. “Why he bothered to put it outside, I don’t know. Whole place smells. Lord, how in the world does he eat surrounded by this stink?”
“This ain’t nothing.” Decker took a deep sniff. “He’s got fresh shavings in here. You should have gotten a whiff before he raked the stalls.”
“Lucky me.”
“Did he rake while you were interviewing him?”
“No, he just sat on the cot and answered my questions—‘Yessim. Nossim.’ But I think he understood everything I asked him, Pete. Claims he didn’t see or hear anything. Now the stable is away from the house, but I would think that sound carries pretty well in these open spaces. There were a lot of smashed items in Lilah’s bedroom. Maybe he just tuned the noise out.”
“Maybe.” Decker related the incident with Lilah and el otro hermano. “Totes was very protective of her according to the maid, threatening Lilah’s nameless brother with a shovel. If he had heard something suspicious, he might have done something. He didn’t mention anything about the fight to you?”
“Not a word. But with a guy like Carl, you’ve got to know the right questions beforehand. He doesn’t volunteer a thing and I don’t think it’s because he’s holding back. He’s just too basic to improvise. I asked him if he knew anyone who didn’t like Lilah. He said ‘nossim.’ Now if I had asked him, did Lilah have a fight with her other brother two years ago, I probably would have gotten a ‘yessim.’”
“Specificity is the name of the game.”
“And short questions,” Marge said. “Anyway, he swore he didn’t hear or see anything when he got up this morning at four-thirty.”
“That’s his usual rising time?”
“Yes. It was dark outside. He didn’t see anything.”
“You think he was being truthful?”
“I think he was, but it’s hard to say. Remember that beekeeper’s retarded son last year? Totes was wary in the same way when questioned. Both didn’t look you in the eye.”
“He’s as retarded as Earl Darcy?”
“No, Carl’s higher-functioning,” Marge said. “He takes care of himself and the horses. Besides being the stable hand, he’s the grounds keeper. Takes care of the fruit trees, maintains the huge garden out back. She’s got a few acres here. Keeping it up is a lot of responsibility.”
“You know, the maid mentioned that Lilah sends people from the spa to fix things in her house, pick stuff from the garden. She mentioned someone named Mike.”
Marge said, “I’ll check him out.”
“What about Totes as a suspect? What does your gut say?”
“Gut-speaking, probably not. You told me Lilah didn’t know who attacked her. I don’t think Carl has enough smarts to plan an assault without being recognized.”
Decker said, “How long has Carl been working out the horse?”
“He took it out maybe a half hour ago, says he tries to work out each horse for an hour. Jesus, that’s six hours in the saddle every day. Guy must have nothing but a big callus for a butt.”
Decker slapped his notepad against his palm. “You get used to it.”
“Macho Pete.”
Decker smiled, thinking that Marge wasn’t so bad in the machismo department herself. At a fit five-ten, one fifty-five, she could successfully floor most men without breaking a sweat. Her most feminine feature was her eyes. Soft and doelike, they inspired trust. Everyone told Marge their secrets.
She said, “Why don’t you take a look around while I organize my notes?”
Decker agreed, strolling the stables, taking in the scenery. Lilah had prime horses—well-muscled with straight backs and princely gaits. The Lippizaner was the jumper, the two Thoroughbreds were young with fine-looking legs. The Appaloosa in the middle stall looked to be about twelve—probably dead broke and a great trail rider. Aps were good range horses—fearless and surefooted. He returned to Totes’s stall, sniffed the towels and bedsheet.
“His clothes are dirty, but his linens are clean. The maid said she doesn’t do his laundry.”
Marge said, “He’s got a small empty washbasin outside. Next to the toilet.”
“Who buys his food?”
“He told me Lilah gives him some canned goods—tuna, chili and beans. And then there’s the garden—actually it’s more like a farm. A half acre’s worth of vegetables, most of the greens and herbs grown for the spa. VULCAN advertises homegrown fruits and vegetables. Guess Lilah needs something to justify those rates.”
Decker smiled and rolled his shoulders.
Marge said, “Totes helps himself to the veggies. To the fruits in the orchards, too. I guess if you don’t mind simple living and the smell, it’s not a terrible life.” She checked her watch. “How about we grab some lunch after you’ve spoken to Mr. Totes?”
“I want to stop off at home,” Decker said. “I’ve got some baked goods in the car that were supposed to be Rina’s breakfast. Want to come over for lunch?”
“I’m sure Rina would love that.”
“I’ll need you as a buffer.”
“She giving you a hard time?”
“Nah,” Decker said. “She’s just being pregnant. Stop by with me. She likes you. Sometimes I think she likes you better than me.”
“You go it alone this time.” Marge stood on her tiptoes and patted his cheek. “You’re a big boy, you can handle it.”
Decker smiled. “You want to explain to Totes that I’m your partner? He’s already had one interview today. I don’t want to confuse the guy by suddenly presenting myself.”
“Sure.”
“While I’m talking to him, can you do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“Frederick Brecht’s not at the spa and supposedly no one had his office number. The Vulcanites are very closemouthed.”
“I’ll look him up. You want me to call him?”
“I don’t know if he’s aware of what’s happened. The maid didn’t call him; the spa isn’t concerned about Lilah’s absence. The manager there … what the hell was her name?” He flipped through his notepad. “Uh … Kelley Ness … she told me that Ms. Brecht wasn’t expected in today, but she didn’t sound uptight.”
“Did you ask Kelley about this Mike person?” Marge said.
“No. If Mike’s there and involved, I don’t want to spook him. I don’t want to interview this Mike guy or Doctor Freddy by phone. I want to see their reactions to the news in the flesh.”
“Makes sense,” Marge said. “How about you talk to Totes while I break for lunch? Afterward, I’ll take a peek around the spa and you check out Doctor Freddy.”
“Sounds good,” Decker said. “By the time I’m done with Freddy, maybe Lilah will be able to talk.”
Marge said, “What should we do about Davida Eversong?”
Decker made a face and leaned backward. “What does she have to do with any of this?”
“You haven’t talked to Morrison yet?”
Decker was taken aback. It was unusual for the captain to stick his nose into Decker’s affairs. “Christ, what is it, Marge?”
“Just wanted to know a little about the case. Mentioned the fact that since Lilah was Davida Eversong’s daughter, it could get some press.” Marge sighed. “That maybe we might want to break the news to Ms. Eversong first and tell her to keep a low profile so we can do our jobs. I seemed to get the impression that he’s worried that Eversong might play this for some publicity. Should I try to dig her up?”
Decker thought for a moment. “Not just yet. Let me at least try to talk to Lilah first. She may have her own method of dealing with her mother.”
Plumes of dust obscured the corral’s ground as the palomino kicked up cloud banks of grit. The tomtom sound of hooves beating against the dirt, the horse rounding each bend of the fence seamlessly. In lesser hands, the stallion could have easily lost its footing, but Totes handled the animal with the combined expertise of professional cowboy and jockey.
Riding bare chested, the man was so thin he looked like an antenna. In his time, Decker had known many hands like him. Their strength was often deceptive. The guy was probably one wiry sucker.
Marge caught Totes’s attention. He pulled on the reins, stopping directly in front of them, spraying them with dirt. He untied the bandanna from around his neck and wiped perspiration off his face and neck. A watery sheen had coated his chest and stomach, but he didn’t bother to swab it away.
“Carl, this is my partner, Sergeant Decker,” Marge said. “If you don’t mind, he’d like to ask you a few questions.”
There was a moment of silence. Totes’s eyes were unreadable, hidden behind the shadow of his cowboy hat. He had a long face that matched his lean body. His nutmeg-colored cheeks were gaunt, hairless, and mottled with acne scars and moles.
“My partner needs to ask you a few questions, Carl,” Marge said.
Totes nodded.
“How ’bout we go in the stable?” Decker said. “You can brush your horse down while we talk.”
Totes nodded but made no effort to dismount. The palomino was prancing about, chafing at the bit, sweat pouring down his flanks.
Decker said, “You need to cool him off first?”
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Go ahead,” Decker said. “I’ll wait.”
Totes clicked his tongue and he and the horse trotted slowly around the corral.
“Swift, sport,” Marge said.
“Like you said, you’ve got to know the right questions.”
“I think you’ve got a good fix on the dude, Pete.” Marge slung her purse over her shoulder. “And now if I’m no longer needed …”
“Give me about a half hour.”
“You won’t need that much time, but go ahead.”
After Marge left, Decker leaned against the railing as Totes led the golden beauty through a series of cool-down exercises. The sky was clear and cloudless, the mountains studded with wild flowers. Watching Totes in the saddle, Decker felt jealous of the stable hand’s freedom, of his skill, too. Totes might be blunted mentally, but he’d mastered all the subtleties of riding. Fifteen minutes passed before Totes decided it was time to call it quits. He dismounted, took off his saddle, and led the horse by the reins around the corral. After the animal had been sufficiently cooled down, Totes brought him to the stable. Decker walked abreast of the horse, admiring his stately walk.
“Miss Brecht has some beautiful animals,” Decker said, once inside the stable.
Totes nodded and placed the horse in the middle stall opposite the Appaloosa. He took out a wire currycomb and brush and began to groom the beast. The comb had just made contact with the horse’s skin when Totes stopped, turned around, and looked at Decker.
“You can pull up a bucket and sit if you want.”
“I don’t mind standing.”
Totes didn’t respond. He paused, then returned his attention to the horse.
“Miss Brecht a good rider?” Decker asked.
“Yessir.”
“This one her favorite horse?”
“Yessir.”
“What’s his name?”
“Apollo.”
“Apollo,” Decker repeated. “After the sun god.”
Again, Totes stopped what he was doing and pivoted to look at Decker. He took off his cowboy hat, wiped his forehead with his arm, and put the hat back on. His hair was cropped short—one step above a five-o’clock shadow. Eyes, pale blue. They held a vacant stare.
“Apollo’s a great name,” Decker said. “Lilah must be a very experienced rider to handle a stallion. She doesn’t look like she has enough weight to manage him.”
Totes didn’t answer. He continued grooming the animal.
“How long you work for Miss Brecht, Carl?”
“Five years.”
“She have the horses before you came to work for her?”
“A few.”
“She have Apollo?”
“Yessir.”
“How old is he? Around six?”
“Yessir.”
Unimpressed.
Decker said, “Did she have the Appaloosa when you came here? He looks older, around twelve, thirteen, maybe?”
“Twelve and a half.”
“He’s in good shape.”
“Yessir.”
“Has Miss Brecht ever lived with anyone in the five years you worked here?”
No response.
“Has Miss Brecht ever lived with her brother Freddy, the doctor?”
Totes hesitated before answering. “Nossir.”
“Do you see Miss Brecht’s brother around here a lot?”
A pause. “Yessir.”
“Was he here last night?”
Totes stopped what he was doing, but didn’t turn around. “I don’t remember.”
“See anything strange last night?”
“Nossir. ’Ready told your lady pardner that.”
“I know you did,” Decker answered. “I’m just … you know … trying to figure out a few things. Did you happen to see anyone near Miss Brecht’s house during the night?”
Another pause. “Nossir.”
“Did you happen to see Miss Brecht last night?”
Totes continued brushing but didn’t answer. Decker didn’t know if he was thinking about the question or if he was just that dull. Dragging answers out of him was like wading through sludge.
“She don’t ride at night so I probably didn’t see her. I only see her when she rides.”
“Do you pick the vegetables for her spa?”
A pause. “Nossir.”
“Who does?”
“Who what?”
“Who picks the vegetables for her spa?”
“Someone from the spa.”
“Do you know a guy named Mike from the spa?”
“Don’t know him, nossir.”
Decker waited a beat. “Carl, do you ever see a guy named Mike from the spa picking vegetables for Miss Lilah?”
“I see him,” Totes said. “But I don’t know him.”
“But you know what he looks like.”
“’Course.”
“Was he here yesterday?”
“Nossir.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yessir.”
Decker sighed inwardly. “Carl, does Miss Brecht ever go running at night?”
“Don’t recall.”
“Maybe Miss Brecht went running last night,” Decker suggested. “You might have seen her?”
Totes turned slowly and faced Decker, a confused look on his face.
“Did you see Miss Brecht run last night, Carl?”
Totes shook his head.
“But she does run at night?”
Totes scratched his nose. “Don’t recall.”
Decker bit back frustration. “So nothing unusual happened last night?”
Totes nodded slowly.
“And you didn’t see Miss Brecht’s brother—Frederick Brecht—here last night.”
“Nossir.”
“What about Miss Brecht’s other brother—the one who had the fight with her about two years ago.”
Totes removed his hat. The empty expression in his eyes had been replaced by hot blue flames. “What about him?”
“He come around here a lot?”
“Not no more.”
“You chased him away last time he was here?”
“I did do it.”
“With a shovel.”
“I did do it.”
“Why?”
“’Cause he was yellin’ at Miz Lilah something fierce.”
“Did Miss Lilah ask for your help?”
Again, Totes seemed confused.
“Did she come running to you and say, ‘Carl, help me chase my brother away.’”
“Nossir.”
“But you figured she needed help so you chased him with the shovel.”
“I just didn’t like the way he was yellin’.”
“Was he swearing at Miss Lilah?”
“Swearin’?”
“Yeah, swearin’. Cussin’ at her.”
“He was yellin’. Maybe he was cussin’, too. But the yellin’ was ’nuf.”
“What were they yelling about?”
Totes spit. “None of my dang business.”
“I know you wouldn’t listen in on purpose, but maybe you overheard something?”
“None of my dang business.”
Decker shifted gears. “By the way, what’s Miss Lilah’s brother’s name?”
“Freddy.”
“No, Carl, the other one. The one she was yelling at.”
“He was yellin’.”
“Okay, the one who was yelling at her. What’s his name?”
Once again, the eyes became blank. “Name?”
“If you don’t know it, it’s okay,” Decker said. “I’ll get it from Miss Lilah.”
The eyes filled suddenly with water. “How’s Miz Lilah?”
Decker said, “I think she’ll be okay.”
“If King hurt her, I’m gonna kill him,” Totes announced.
Decker paused to write down Totes’s declaration in his notebook. “Who’s King, Carl?”
“King,” Totes said. “That’s Lilah’s brother. The one who was yellin’.”
Decker let that sink in. Had to go real slow with the guy. “Lilah’s other brother, the one who was yelling. Was his name King?”
“Yessir. I just remembered it.”
“Is King his first or his last name?”
Totes put his cowboy hat back on and shrugged ignorance. He said, “Are we almost done? All this talk is makin’ me addled. And when I’m addled, I can’t work.”
Decker stuffed the notepad back in his coat pocket. He patted Apollo’s butt and told the stable hand they were through.
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