Redemption (Amos Decker #5)(99)

“Heard you were back in town.”

“Yeah, for a bit.”

“Never forgot what you did for my daughter.”

“Hope she’s doing okay.”

“She is, actually. I think Jenny finally figured it out.”

“Good to know.”

“God, I heard what happened to Rachel Katz. That was awful. Is she going to be okay?”

“We hope so,” said Lancaster.

“We’ve done some projects together. She’s quite a businessperson. Very smart.”

Decker slowly nodded. “Would it be okay if we asked you a few questions about Katz? We’re trying to dig into who attempted to murder her, and you might be helpful.”

“Sure. Absolutely. Hey, come to dinner tonight at my house.” He looked at Lancaster. “Bring your friend here too.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Decker.

“No, I insist. Least I could do after your help with Jenny. Say around seven?”

Decker nodded, and Marks drove off.

Lancaster looked over at him. “Might be an interesting dinner.”

“Let’s hope it’s something more than interesting.”





Chapter 64



DECKER AND MARS LOOKED DOWN at the woman. She was so covered in tubes and monitoring lines that it was almost difficult to discern the living person under this medical canopy.

But it was Rachel Katz. Still alive. And still critically stable.

“What do the doctors say?” asked Decker.

“That she’ll wake up at some point. They just don’t know when.”

“You’ve been in here most of the time. Has she come to at all? Made any sounds? Talked in her sleep?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“You need to take a break from here, Melvin. She’s got great care. And she’s well protected.”

“I don’t know, Decker,” he said doubtfully.

“I do know. And I’ve got some place I want you to go with me tonight.”

“Where?”

“Duncan Marks’s house. He invited me and Lancaster to dinner. I don’t think he’ll mind you tagging along. He was asking about Rachel today.”

“Okay, but why are you having dinner with the guy?”

“Because he did some business with her. And I need to know more about the history there.”

“Okay, if you think it will help.”

“At this point, Melvin, anything will help.”

*



They drove in Decker’s car up the long, winding road to Marks’s home, or, more aptly, his estate. They pulled in front of the mansion and parked in a stone-paved motor court.

Decker looked in the direction of Burlington and saw the lights of the town winking down below. Marks certainly had a fine view from up here.

When they got out, Lancaster tugged self-consciously at her dress and then prodded a few stray hairs back into place. “I didn’t really have anything in my closet for something like this,” she said, staring up at the enormous stone and stucco house, which looked like it belonged in the French or Italian countryside. “And I had no time to get my hair done.”

Decker said, “You look fine.”

“It’s different for guys, Decker,” she said in an annoyed tone.

“Just so long as you have your gun,” he said.

“I hope you’re joking,” she said, grinning.

He didn’t smile back.

Decker wore a corduroy jacket that looked like it had been new about thirty years ago, and khaki pants. And the cleanest shirt he had left.

Mars looked resplendent in a tailored wool jacket, white button-down shirt, slacks, and a pocket square.

“You, on the other hand, look like you could be in GQ,” Lancaster said to Mars.

“Thanks. For twenty years I wore the same clothes, white prison jumpsuit, so this is a nice change.”

They walked up to the massive double front doors and Decker rang the bell. A few moments later it was opened by a man in butler’s livery, who escorted them through to the library, where he said Marks and the rest of his party had gathered for cocktails before dinner.

It was a long wood-paneled room with few books but a roaring fire in the fireplace and clusters of seating areas full of plush furniture that looked custom made and probably was.

Marks was standing near the fire with a drink in hand, with two other men and three women clustered around him. Decker recognized his daughter, Jenny. She was in her twenties, tall and blonde and vapid, at least in his estimation. She’d already done more falling in love than most people did in a lifetime. Her only problem had been that all these men had loved her father’s money far more than they’d loved her.

She looked at Decker with unfriendly eyes, he thought. She was probably pissed that he knew more about her and her failed relationships than she wanted him to. Jenny was the product of Duncan Marks’s second marriage to a younger woman who had called it quits and left after Jenny was only three years old. To his credit, Marks had raised her. But he’d given her more than he should have, was Decker’s opinion. And with that, he had taken away any ambition she might have had.

“Decker,” called out Marks, waving them over.