The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(105)

Seven, four, three, is that a zero? No, an eight? Red, orange, green, two?

He scrunched up his brow.

Is that a nine or an upside-down six? Come on, dammit, come on.

Finally, the numbers all lined up correctly. And he was able to weigh one set against another. And they tallied perfectly.

He opened his eyes, took out his phone, and hit some keys.

“Who are you calling?”

“No one.”

He hit more keys.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m searching for a listing on a phone number I saw.”

“Where did you see it?”

“On Ted Ross’s phone.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I saw the same number somewhere else.”

He held up his phone for her to see.

She said, “The phone number belongs to Fred Ross, Ted’s father?”

“Yes.”

“Not unusual for a father to call his son.”

“No, but it is unusual that a son doesn’t have his father in his contacts list, even if they don’t get along all that well. If he had the number in his contacts, Fred Ross’s name would have come up on the screen, not his number.”

“That is odd. Wait a minute. You said you saw that number somewhere else.”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“On a wall.”

“Whose wall?”

“Alice Martin’s phone number wall.”

“Well, they are neighbors.”

“She told me that she only kept phone numbers up there that she called frequently, because otherwise she couldn’t remember them.”

“Okay, but again, they’re neighbors.”

“Only Martin told me that she despises Ross and has for decades. And after meeting the guy I can see why. Even his own son can’t stand him. And he’s a criminal!”

Jamison said, “So why have his number up on her wall?”

“Well, I can think of at least one reason.”





Chapter 60



WILLIE NORRIS’S OFFICE was located in what had once been a residence in a neighborhood about a mile from Drews’s bakery.

The young woman in the front room immediately rose to greet them when they walked in. She was polite, if a bit shy, though Decker could sense something guarded, almost anxious in her features. She wore faded boots, jeans, and a white cuffed shirt. The computer on her metal desk was at least ten years old. Paper files were scattered over the desk’s surface.

They had passed two cars in the driveway, a shiny black new Lexus convertible and a rusted-out ancient Ford pickup truck. Decker thought he knew which vehicle belonged to Norris and which one to his secretary.

A moment later Willie Norris walked into the room. He was short and portly with slicked-back graying hair. His chin was pointed, his nose as narrow and spiny as a mountain ridge, and his eyes were two bits of coal in fleshy sockets. He wore an ill-fitting three-piece gray suit. A cigarette dangled from one hand.

“Come on back, come on back,” said Norris, waving a flabby hand.

He shut the door behind them.

Decker looked around the room, which clearly had once been a bedroom. Where the closet had been was a built-in shelf filled with plastic binders. The man’s desk was an antique partner’s desk with elaborate moldings. A grimy square of rug was set under the furniture. On the wall were a series of framed certificates indicating membership in a variety of insurance organizations.

Norris sat down behind his desk and motioned to them to take seats opposite him. He took one final drag on his smoke and then ground it out in an overstuffed ashtray.

He smiled ruefully. “I wouldn’t even insure myself,” he said. “Obese, smoker, bad lungs, worse kidneys.”

“Never too late to start a new chapter,” said Jamison pleasantly.

“Think it’s a little late for me. But you folks looking for insurance?”

“For my sister, yes. She just lost her husband.”

“Overdose?” said Norris, a little too quickly.

“No, why would you think that?” asked Jamison.

“You must not be from around here. You’re young, so I assume your sister is too. And her husband. Young man dies around here, it’s either a DUI that went way bad, or it’s an overdose.”

“He died in an industrial accident.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Can you give me some information about the process of getting insurance?”

“Sure can.”

He pulled open a drawer, riffled through it, and handed Jamison a folder with some loose pages inside. “That will help her start the application process, but I can answer any questions you might have or she can set up an appointment to meet with me.”

Decker said, “I assume she’ll need to take a medical exam and go through some sort of background check, in addition to filling out the application?”

“Depends on how much coverage she wants. You got companies giving out small policies with no medical exam and no real due diligence. They’re just counting on the actuarial tables, but I don’t like to do business that way. Especially here.”

“Because of all the overdoses?” said Decker.