Never judge a book by its movie.
J.W. Eagan
ePub
A4Chapter 9
T
HEY ROUNDED THE corner of the hall and there he was, a rat in a cage, at least to Decker’s thinking. But that wasn’t enough. He needed to be sure.Brimmer looked at Decker and then Leopold.
“There he is. I can give you fifteen minutes, max.”
“All I’ll need,” replied Decker.
There was a jailer there, again a guy that Decker didn’t recognize. As a detective for ten years he hadn’t mixed that much with the uniforms.
“Open it up, please,” said Brimmer to the jailer.
Keys came out and the door slid back and Decker walked into the cell and stared down at the man, who sat perched like a cat on the bunk bed.
Brimmer said, “Fifteen minutes, okay?”
Decker nodded but didn’t look at her. Her heels tap-tapped away. Decker waited until the jailer went back to hisdesk at the end of the corridor before moving forward and fully focusing on the prisoner.
Sebastian Leopold wasn’t as big as he would have thought from Lancaster’s description.
Or maybe I’ve just gotten a lot bigger.
They’d put him in an orange prison jumpsuit. His hands and feet were manacled and the waist chain bolted to the wall. Which was a pity because if he tried to attack Decker, Decker could just kill him in self-defense.
The head turned to Decker and he braced for some sort of recognition from Leopold. But none came. Strange, since he’d apparently dissed this guy so badly he’d taken his revenge in the slaughter of Decker’s family.
The eyes were bloodshot, the pupils dilated. Decker figured the cops had given him a drug test, made him pee into a bottle, taken a cheek swab for DNA and breathalyzed him for booze. The jumpsuit had short sleeves, so the man’s forearms were revealed. There was a tattoo of twin dolphins on his right arm. That was interesting.
There were also drug tracks. And they looked relatively new. He wondered if the man had taken a pop before waltzing in here and copping to three murders. You’d need some extra juice to do something like that, Decker thought.
Part of one finger on his left hand was gone, cut off at the first section. There was a scar on his face. A busted nose that slid ten degrees to the left. Hands heavily callused and strong-looking. He had done manual labor.
And are those the hands that took Molly from me?
“Mr. Leopold?” he said.
Leopold continued to look at him without really seeing anything. At least it seemed that way to Decker.
Still no recognition. And with the cleanup and cutting of beard and hair, Decker looked closer to the cop he’d been seventeen months ago when he’d allegedly dissed Leopold at the 7-Eleven.
He stared into the man’s face and turned on his DVR. Frame after frame raced through his mind, going back to the precise time period when he had supposedly run into the man. The date flashed up in his head so close that it seemed to be on the other side of his eyeballs. One month before the murders, that’s what Lancaster had said. Decker tacked on one week on either side of that date just to be sure.
His DVR whirred and frames flew past by the hour, by the minute. Decker had been to that 7-Eleven three times during that period.
Sebastian Leopold was simply not in there.
Decker shut off his DVR and sat down in a chair built into the wall.
“Mr. Leopold,” he said in a low voice. “Do you recognize me?”
Leopold seemed to be listening but not actually hearing.
“Do you recognize me?”
Leopold gave a shake of the head.
He moved his hands in odd ways in front of him. Decker observed the precise patterns the man was making.
“You need an attorney,” said Decker, and he patted his briefcase.
Leopold stopped moving his hands and nodded at this.
Decker took out his pad and pen.
“Can you tell me what happened that night?”
“Why?”
There was a sudden caginess in the voice that slightly surprised Decker. He had interviewed many prisoners, many accused. Many were dumb as dirt and had committed crimes for reasons stupider than they were. But some were a lot smarter than folks gave them credit for. And maybe Leopold was one of those.
“You need a defense. You’ve confessed to three murders.”
“I’m guilty. I done it.”
“You still need legal representation.”
“Why?”
“It’s just how the legal system works. So I need to know the facts.”
“They’re going to execute me.” The tone was of a child confessing his expected punishment. The cagey prisoner had transformed into a little boy. Decker wondered if it were the drugs doing this to him, making a pinball game out of his thought process.
“Is that what you want?”
“Not up to me.”
“You’re right. It’s largely up to a judge and a jury. But you still have input. So, you want to tell me what happened?”
Decker checked his watch. Four minutes had passed. And at any moment someone might walk by who knew him. He turned so that his back was to the cell door.
“I killed them,” said Leopold simply. He was staring dead at Decker now, and Decker was looking for any hint of recognition in the other man’s eyes. If he saw it, what would he do? Strangle the man like he might have done to his daughter?
Leopold started moving his hands again. He looked like a conductor leading an orchestra that didn’t exist. Decker watched for a few moments, then refocused.
“And why did you do that?”
“Dude pissed me off.”
“What dude?”
“The dude. Dude that lived there.”
“How he’d piss you off?”
“Just pissed me off.”
“But how?”
“Didn’t show me no respect.”
“You worked there? You were a customer there? At the 7-Eleven on DeSalle?”
Leopold ignored this and said, “Well, I got him, didn’t I?”
“How’d you do that?”
“Killed his family.”
“No, I mean how did you know where he lived?”
“Followed him.”
“How?”
Now there came a caution in the man’s eyes that Decker had not seen before.
“I don’t need to tell you shit. You a cop? Trying to trick me?”
“You confessed, Mr. Leopold. There’s nothing left to trick. Do you see that?”
Leopold blinked and rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, I guess I see that.”
“And, no, I’m not a cop. So you followed him. How?”
“What do you mean, how?”
“Car, foot, bike?”
“Ain’t got no damn bike.”
“So a car?”
“If I ain’t got a bike, I ain’t got no car.”
“So on foot, then?”
Leopold nodded slowly and then studied Decker closely, perhaps to see his reaction to this.
Decker wrote something down on his pad. He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow even though it was cold in the basement cell. If he was discovered here, he could go to jail. And he didn’t actually like talking to people, so thebriefer the better. But he had to do this. This might be his only chance.
“So you found out where this ‘dude’ lived and then you planned to kill his family. But you waited a month or so. Why?”
“Who said I waited a month?”
“That’s what you told the police.”
Leopold hunkered back down, the rat hiding among the crevices. Only there was no place to hide in here.
“Okay, that’s right. I had to plan it out. Watch the place, see what the lay of the land was, so to speak.”
Decker glanced down at the tattoo. “When were you in the Navy?”
Leopold’s eyes flashed for just a second. “Who says I was?”
Decker pointed at the tat. “Two dolphins. Sailors often have those. You have it positioned so it won’t show from under your uniform sleeve, per regulations.”
Leopold looked down at the tat as though it had betrayed him.
“I’m not in the Navy.”
“So you got the lay of the land and then went there that night. Take me through it.”
Decker glanced over his shoulder at a sound. But it was only the jailer walking down the corridor. He rubbed another bead of sweat off his cheek.
“Take you through it?” parroted Leopold.
“From the moment you got there to the moment you left. Let’s start with how you got there.”
“Walked.”
“House address?”
Leopold hesitated. “It was a two-story, yellow siding, carport on the side.”
“How’d you get in?”
“Side screen door into the kitchen.”
“Remember any details of the room?”
“It was a damn kitchen, man. Stove, dishwasher, table, and chairs.”
“Remember the color of the walls?”
“No.”
Decker glanced at his watch again. He had to speed this up, and his anxiety at being here was growing by the second.
“Who’d you kill first?”
“The dude. Thought it was the guy that dissed me. But I guess it wasn’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“Pictures in the paper. After.”
“Go on.”
“He was at the kitchen table. Been drinking.”
“How do you know that?”
Leopold looked up, obviously irritated. “Why you keep me asking me that?”
“Because the cops will. The court will. The jury will want to know these things.”
“Hell, I confessed.”
“They can still try you.”
Leopold looked shocked by this. “Why?”
“To make themselves look good. How do you know he’d been drinking?”
“Beer bottles on the table.”
“How’d you kill him? He was a lot bigger than you.”
“He was drunk. I took my knife and cut him, right here.” He pointed at his neck.
“He was found in the adjoining room.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s right. But, see, he crawled in there, after I cut him. Bleeding like a bitch. Then he, hell, he just didn’t move again.”
“Did he make any sounds?”
Leopold said, “Yeah, but not no loud ones.” He pointed to his neck again. “Got him here. Couldn’t make much noise.”
“Remember what he was wearing?”
Leopold looked blankly at him. “Long time ago. Pants? Shirt?”
“What next?”
“Knew he had a family. Went to go kill them too.”
“Take me through it,” Decker said calmly, though he was feeling the opposite. His heart was beating so fast he could feel the pulses in every part of his body, like he had a thousand tiny hearts pumping madly.
Almost there, just hang on, Amos, just hang on.
“I went up the stairs. First room on, on—”
“The left?” suggested Decker.
Leopold pointed at him. “Yep. The left.”
“And?”
“And I went in. She was in the bath—no, she was on the bed. That’s right, on the bed. Pretty little thing. She had a nightie on. See right through it. Damn, the bitch looked good.”
Decker gripped the edge of his chair and kept his eyes on Leopold. His wife had not been raped. That had been confirmed. But there had been something else.
“So the light was on?” Decker asked.
“What?”
“You said you could see right through her nightie. I was assuming the light was on.”
Leopold looked unsure. “No, I don’t think it was.”
“Then what?”
“I stood over her.”
“While she was lying in the bed?”
Leopold looked crossly at him. “Shit, man, can you let me tell it?”
“Sorry, go ahead.”
“I had my gun. I put it against her forehead and I shot her.”
“What kind of gun?”
Leopold answered right away. “Forty-five. Smith and Wesson.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Stole it off some guy.”
“Guy have a name?”
Leopold just shrugged.
“Keep going.”
Overhead Decker could hear doors opening and feet trooping around. It seemed some of the cops were returning from the high school.
“So I shot her. No, wait a minute. She did wake up, come to think. She sat up, she was starting to scream. That’s right. And I shot her. Then the bitch fell off the bed.”
“Flat on the floor? Her whole body?”
Leopold looked at him warily. “Maybe parta her got hung up. Foot or arm or something.”
“What then?”
This was the critical point. The one that had not made it into the papers. The wound to her head was not the only one Cassie had suffered. It had been discovered during the autopsy.
She had not been raped. But the outside of her genitals had been mutilated.
“Knew he had a daughter. I went down the hall to her room. She was sleeping.”
“So you were done with the woman. Nothing else with her?”
Leopold just stared up at him. “I told you what I done. I shot her. Dead!”
“Okay.”
“Then I went down the hall to the kid.”
“Wait a minute, the shot didn’t wake the girl up?”
Leopold looked puzzled again. “I, no, don’t think so. She was sleeping.”
“Then what?”
“I took her outta the bed.”
“Why?”
“I just did. Wasn’t thinking too clearly then. Took her to the bathroom.”
“Again, why? Not thinking too clearly?”
“That’s right. Maybe I had to take a leak and didn’t want her getting away.”
“Did you take a leak?”
“Don’t remember.”
“And she didn’t scream when she saw you?”
“No. She was scared, I guess. And…and I told her to be quiet.”
“Then?”
“Then I strangled her. Put my hands around her neck and just squeezed tight as—”
Decker put up a hand for him to stop. He looked away for a moment, the most brilliant blue blinding him. The color was so bright he thought he might be sick. It was like he was suffocating in sapphire.
“Hey, man, you okay?” asked Leopold with genuine concern on his face.
Decker’s forehead was drenched in perspiration. He slowly wiped it off. “Okay, you killed her, then what?”
Leopold looked unsure again.
Decker said, “Did you do anything with the body? Do something with her clothing?”
Leopold snapped his fingers. “That’s right,” he said, his face beaming like he’d just got the answer right in algebraclass. “I sat her up on the toilet and I tied her, uh, whatchamacallit.”
“Her robe belt?” prompted Decker.
“Right, her robe belt around her and the toilet.”
“Why?”
Leopold just stared at him. “’Cause…’cause that’s what I thought to do at the time.”
“How’d you get away?”
“I went out the way I came in.”
“Did you have a car?”
“No, I told you I walked!”
“Anybody see you?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What’d you do with the gun?”
“Trash.”
“Where?”
“Don’t remember.”
“The knife?”
Leopold shrugged. “The same.”
“You tell anybody what you did?” asked Decker.
“Not till now.”
“So why now?”
Leopold shrugged again. “They gonna fry my ass?”
“Lethal injection. Frying comes later.”
“Huh?”
“In hell.”
“Oh, yeah.” Leopold chuckled like he thought Decker was making a joke. “That’s a good one.”
“So why come forward now?” asked Decker.
Leopold said, “Seemed as good a time as any. Ain’t had nothing else going on.”
Decker eyed a lump on the side of Leopold’s neck. “What’s that lump? You sick?”
Leopold reached up and gingerly touched it. “Ain’t nothing.”
“You have it checked out?”
Leopold snorted. “Yeah. I went to the Mayo Clinic on my jet. Paid in cash.”
Sarcasm. Interesting.
“If you were in the Navy you might have health coverage.”
Leopold shook his head. “DD. Dishonorable discharge.”
“So you were in the Navy?”
“Yeah,” conceded Leopold.
The sounds from above were getting louder. Decker checked his watch. Two minutes left and Brimmer seemed like the type who would show up right on time to escort him out.
“Any PTSD?”
“Any what?”
“Head problems? Depression? From combat?”
“I was never in combat.”
“So you’re just a sick son of a bitch who wipes out a family because somebody dissed you?” Decker kept his voice level and calm.
Leopold attempted a grin. “I guess so. I’m bad news, man. Always have been. If my momma were alive she could tell you. I’m just a shit. Screwed up every damn thing I ever touched in my whole life. No lie.”
“And when we check your military records it’ll show you were in the Navy as Sebastian Leopold?”
Leopold nodded, but absently, as though he weren’t really agreeing with the statement.
Decker leaned closer. “Let me ask it clearer. Is Sebastian Leopold your real name?”
“One I been using.”
“Since birth or more recently?”
“Not since birth, no.”
“So why use that name, then, if it’s not yours?”
“What’s in a name, man? Just letters stuck together.”
Decker pulled out his phone and, pointing it at Leopold, said, “Say cheese.”
He took Leopold’s picture and then put his phone away.
Then he held out a pen and a piece of paper. “Can you write 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.
