The Last Mile (Amos Decker, #2)(130)

“But why? After all the shit he put me through? Was it because of my mom?”

“I don’t think so. I think it was because of you.”

“The guy didn’t love me. He hated my guts. He framed me for murder. I figured he just took the easy way out.”

“I wouldn’t call blowing yourself up the easy way out,” pointed out Jamison.

“Why would he even come there with a bomb?” asked Mars.

Decker said, “He was a man who hedged his bets. He knew Eastland had a lot of resources. He might have figured we’d get followed somehow.”

Bogart said, “Well, whatever the reason, we’ve got nothing. Roy was our last hope. And now he’s gone. So Eastland and Huey are home free.”

“Not yet,” said Decker.

They all turned to him.

He eased something from his coat pocket. His arm had been hit by a flying wall stud in the explosion and was still sore. He held up the article.

“Your wallet?” said Bogart.

“Roy’s wallet.”

“How the hell did you get it?” asked Mars.

“I didn’t. He ‘accidentally’ slipped it into my pocket before he went out and blew himself up.”

“Why would he do that?” asked Bogart.

Decker opened the wallet and drew out the only item inside.

“What is that?” asked Jamison. “A credit card?”

“No, a library card.”

“A library card?” said Bogart. He looked at Mars. “Was he much of a reader?”

“Never saw him with a book in his life.”

“Except the one he would read to you at night,” said Decker.

“That’s right. How’d you remem—” Mars stopped in midsentence.

“Why a library card?” asked Jamison.

“I think he was leaving us a message.” Decker rose. “Shall we?”

*



The drive to the library that now stood where the old NAACP office once had was only ten minutes from the hotel. They drove in Bogart’s rental. He pulled in front of the library and parked at the curb. Decker led them inside.

At the front desk sat a middle-aged woman with a stack of books in front of her.

Decker said, “I have a book on reserve.” He handed her the library card.

She took it and then checked on the computer in front of her. “I assume this isn’t for you?” she said when the correct screen came up.

“No, my nephew. He’s just learning to read.”

She smiled. “Make a reader early, you make one for life. I’ll be right back.” She rose and disappeared behind some stacks.

Jamison said, “Are you going to tell us what’s going on, Amos?”

“What book did he reserve?” asked Mars.

“The Three Little Pigs,” said the librarian, returning into view. “I noticed you checked it out once before,” she said to Decker.

“Right. My nephew liked it so much.”

“Well, it is a classic. I read it to my grandkids and I still get scared when the Big Bad Wolf comes into the story. And the pictures are really stunning.” She handed Decker the book and his library card back.

“Thanks.”

They walked out to the car.

“What the hell is all this about?” asked Bogart.

Mars said, “That’s the book my da— I mean Roy, I mean Callahan, would read to me.”

Decker added, “He really liked the character of the Big Bad Wolf. That’s because I think he saw himself in much the same role.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jamison. “So the three pigs?”

“The Three Musketeers, of course,” said Decker. “Except Roy saw them as pigs, not heroes. And he was the Big Bad Wolf who wanted to eat them.”

“But the wolf failed,” said Bogart.

“In the story he did. Let’s see how it turns out in real life.”

He sat in the backseat and turned the book over and over in his hands. He flipped through each page but found nothing.

Jamison said, “Decker, look at the top of the spine. It’s pulled away from the pages some.”

Decker examined this, and tried to get his finger inside the crevice, but his finger was too big.

“Anybody got a light?” he asked.

Bogart handed him a penlight pulled from his jacket.

Decker shone it down in the crevice. “There’s something in there.”

“Just tear the spine off,” said Bogart.

“I don’t like to ruin books,” Decker said.

“Good God,” said Bogart. “Just wait a minute.” He went to the trunk of the rental and pulled out his suitcase. “I haven’t even checked into the hotel yet,” he explained. He pulled out a garment bag and then took out a wire hanger that a suit was hanging on. He handed it through the rear window to Decker. “Here. Try this.”

Decker bent the hanger’s hook a bit to fit it inside the crevice and then worked it down into the slot. “It’s definitely hitting something.” He worked away for several minutes until he said, “Okay, it’s coming up.” He slowly pulled the hanger up until they could see the top of a key.

Jamison had the smallest fingers among them, and she gently reached inside the crevice and eased the key out. It had a chunk of something sticky attached to it.