The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(103)

“I bet,” said Decker.

As she poured the coffees Linda Drews said, “How’d you hear about us?”

“Cindi Riley.”

“Oh, right. Cindi’s real nice. She gets the word out about local businesses. We’re all trying to bring the town back.”

“She also told us about your son. He was a friend of hers.”

Drews had leaned down and was using a pair of tongs to pull out two muffins from the display cabinet. She stiffened at Decker’s words.

“Cindi told you about Keith?”

“Yeah. It sounded really sad.”

Drews slowly put the muffins in a bag.

“He was my only child. You never get over that.”

“I’m sure. It was an overdose, Cindi said,” noted Decker.

Drews nodded. “Baronville’s got lots of problems. Biggest one is drugs. Now, I admit, I was on ’em for a long time. Started out on Percocet and then became a mixer.”

“A mixer?” said Jamison.

“I’d mix the Percocet with Oxy, Xanax, hell, anything I could think of. I’d do a couple hundred pills a week.” She put the bag of muffins on the counter. “How old do you think I am?”

Decker shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “I don’t like guessing people’s ages.”

“I just turned fifty.”

She smiled sadly at their surprised looks. “Drugs ain’t beauty aids. I know I look like I’m sixty-five.”

“But you’ve obviously conquered your addiction,” said Jamison.

Drews rapped her knuckles against the wooden counter. “It’s a fight every day, but today I’m clean. Tomorrow? Who knows.”

“You’re remarkably candid about your experience,” said Jamison. “I mean, you don’t know us.”

“I talked about it long enough at the addiction centers. You got to wrap your mind around it. You got to lay your soul bare if you’re going to get better. I tried more than one way to do it, because one thing works for some and not for others. But I finally kicked it, thank you God. Hardest thing I ever had to do.”

“But not Keith?” said Decker.

Drews started to ring up their order and then stopped. “No.” Tears formed in her eyes. “You ain’t supposed to outlive your child, but I did Keith. He died sixteen months ago. He would’ve been twenty-eight next month.”

“I’m really sorry,” said Jamison.

“But at least you have the bakery,” prompted Decker.

“Well, that’s due to Keith really.”

“How so?” asked Decker.

“Keith had him a life insurance policy for a million dollars, and I was the beneficiary. Never could’ve afforded this place otherwise. Ovens alone are a damn fortune.” She paused as Jamison handed her the credit card for the coffee and muffins. “I’d rather have my son,” she said dully.

“Well, it was lucky that he had a policy,” said Decker. “I guess he had it through work, maybe.”

“No, not through work. He had a job at the fulfillment center. He was a picker. Running all day long, bending over, lifting stuff. Then he hurt his back real bad and got laid off. He went to the doctor. Got on pain pills. And there you go. He got hooked. Same old story. One day he thought he was taking heroin but it was really that fentanyl crap. He was dead before the EMTs could get to him.”

“That’s awful,” said Jamison.

“Well, in Baronville, we just call that normal and ain’t that a damn shame.”

Decker said, “Well, it was fortunate that your son got his policy before he became addicted. I doubt he could have passed a medical exam if he’d been addicted.”

“I know. Willie said the same thing.”

“Willie?”

“Willie Norris is the one who sold Keith the policy. He told me that too when he gave me the check. But Keith was clean when he took out that policy. And then he was dead.”

“So he took out the policy after he injured himself? And for a million dollars?”

“Yeah. He heard it was a good idea. See, he wanted to get rehired at the fulfillment center. And that place can be dangerous. What with all them robots and such. Someone just got killed by one of them suckers, did you know that?”

“Yeah, we heard,” said Jamison quickly.

“Who suggested your son get life insurance? Was it this Willie Norris?”

“I don’t know exactly. But I guess some good came out of Keith’s death. I was able to bury him proper with the money and then open this place.”

She rubbed her eyes. “I hope you enjoy the muffins. And spread the word.”

Jamison said, “Do you have the contact information for Mr. Norris? My sister just lost her husband and I’m thinking she might need some life insurance. She has a young daughter.”

“Oh, sure. You got to think about that stuff, ’cause you just never know in this old world.”

Linda Drews rummaged around in a drawer and pulled out a business card. “Here’s the information. It’s about a mile from here. Willie’s a good guy. Lived here forever, just like me.”

Jamison looked down at the card. “Thanks a lot.” She put a five in the tip jar on the counter.