Redemption (Amos Decker #5)(25)

“Great.”

They entered her condo, which had an open floor plan and lots of twenty-foot windows. Decker watched as Katz used a remote to open the shades to let in the fading light.

“Beautiful place,” he observed, looking at all the expensive architectural details, like exposed beams and repointed brick walls, slate floors, high-dollar appliances in the kitchen, and oil and acrylic paintings on the wall. The furniture was big enough not to be overwhelmed by the large footprint, with several comfortable seating areas laid out.

“It was featured in Luxe,” she said. “That’s a design magazine,” she added when Decker looked blankly at her. “Targeted to the very affluent.” She paused. “Sorry if that sounded snooty.”

“No problem. I’m just not very knowledgeable about that stuff. And I’ve never been affluent.”

“Well, I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. And being a CPA, I work about a hundred hours a week.”

“You must have gotten off early today, then. It’s not yet five. I was expecting to be waiting longer before I saw you coming home.”

“This is just a little break for me. I head back to the office in a couple hours for a client meeting. And then I have an event later tonight. I was hoping to catch up on a few domestic chores right now, so if we could get down to what you wanted?”

She sat down on a couch and motioned for Decker to sit in a chair opposite.

“So what anomalies were you referring to?”

“I can’t get into specifics because it’s an ongoing investigation. I can tell you that Meryl Hawkins came back to town to ask the police to reopen the investigation.”

“Reopen it. Why?”

“Because he said he was innocent.”

Katz’s features turned ugly. “So you’re taking the word of a murderer to reopen the investigation? Are you kidding me?”

“No, not just that. There are the anomalies I mentioned.”

“And that you won’t specify. So what do you want with me?” she said abruptly.

“Can you tell me why your husband was there that night?”

“Good God, I already testified to this.”

“It would just take a minute. And you might remember something you hadn’t before.”

Katz let out a long, annoyed sigh and crossed her arms and legs. “It was a long time ago.”

“Just whatever you can remember,” prompted Decker.

“Don Richards was the loan officer at the bank, so David knew him. He’d been instrumental in getting the loan for the American Grill construction. My husband was very ambitious. That was one trait that drew me to him. He wanted to make a lot of money and also do things to help bolster the community. I appreciated that.”

“When did you two meet?”

“Shortly after the Grill opened.” She got a far-off look on her face and smiled. “We were set up on a blind date, of all things. We were both so busy, it was hard to find time to meet people. We hit it off right away and were married six months later.”

“And as you said, you still own the American Grill?”

“Yes. It was in both my and David’s names. It passed to me after Hawkins murdered him.”

“Has it been profitable for you?”

“We’ve had good and bad years. Right now it’s doing okay.”

“So, as far as you know, your husband was just there that night to shoot the breeze with Don Richards? Or was it about business?”

“I don’t know. I told you that before. I didn’t even know he was going over there that night. They might have been talking about some business projects, because David had several things going on at that time, and Don was his main contact at the bank. But I don’t know why he would have done that at Don’s home.” She added icily, “As you know, David never came home alive, so he couldn’t tell me what they discussed. I thought we’d be together for life. Turned out it was only for a short time.”

“Had your husband become friends with Mr. Richards? Did you and his wife hang out with each other?”

“No, nothing like that. They had kids. We didn’t. And they were older. And David and I were working all the time. We didn’t have time for friends, really.”

“And you were working that night, correct?”

“I’d just started my own CPA firm. I was burning the proverbial midnight oil.” She frowned. “Until I got the call from the police. I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was some awful prank.” She paused and glanced up at Decker. “I had to identify his body. Have you ever had to do that? ID the body of someone you loved?”

“I’m sure it was very hard,” Decker replied quietly.

She suddenly gazed hard at him. “Wait a minute. Oh my God, that happened to you. Your family. I remember now. It was all over the news.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Decker. “Your husband’s wallet and wristwatch were missing. And a gold ring with encrusted diamonds he wore.”

She nodded. “I gave that ring to him. For what turned out to be his last birthday,” she added coldly.

“Anything else you can remember that might help me?”

“I don’t want to help you,” she said candidly. “Because Meryl Hawkins killed my husband. We were going to have a family. We were going places. We talked about moving to Chicago. I mean, a place like Burlington can only take you so far.”