The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(73)

“A drone?” said Kemper. “What would it be doing on that street?”

Decker looked at her. “Remember we were speculating that your two agents had set up a surveillance nest at the house next to the one where their bodies were found?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe that drone was doing surveillance too.”

“On what?” asked Lassiter.

Decker didn’t answer.

“Do you know?” asked Kemper.

Decker had finished his meal while they had been talking. He was looking over Kemper’s shoulder at the bar. It had emptied and Cindi was serving only two customers.

Decker dropped a twenty on the table and rose. “I gotta go.” He walked toward the bar, leaving Lassiter and Kemper to stare openmouthed at each other.

Lassiter said, “He’s a piece of work.”

Kemper stared after him. “Yeah, but I get the feeling we should never, ever underestimate the guy.”





Chapter 43



YOU’RE BACK?”

Cindi slid a coaster in front of Decker at the bar.

“Like a bad penny.”

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“Let me have your best IPA.”

She looked dubious. “Beer’s in the eye of the beholder.”

“I trust your judgment.”

She bent down and pulled out a bottle of beer from a small fridge under the bar.

Decker studied her. She was wearing a black shirt with the top button undone, allowing a glimpse of a tan bra and cleavage. Her jeans were snug and her hair bounced over her athletic shoulders.

He assumed the peekaboo shirt and tight pants were all about tips, and he didn’t fault her for that. Guys who sat at bars were mostly simple creatures, just dying to be manipulated by a pretty lady.

She poured the beer into a mug and slid it across to him.

“Try that.”

He took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “You know your beers.”

She smiled and wiped down the bar in front of him.

“So why the Mercury Bar?” he asked. “Into Greek mythology?”

“No, my dad was a big Orson Welles fan. You know, the Mercury Radio Theatre I think it was called, or something like that. And Mercury is part of Roman mythology, not Greek. Hermes was Mercury’s Greek counterpart.”

“My mistake,” said Decker.

She studied him. “Why do I think you already knew that? You probing for something?”

“Maybe. You seen John lately?”

“Which John? I know lots.”

“Baron.”

“No, why?”

“Just wondering. You two buds?”

“He comes in for drinks. If that makes us buds, I got lots of buds in this town.”

“When I was in here the other night I just thought there was something more there.”

Cindi stopped wiping down the bar, pulled out a bottle of water from under the counter, and took a swig. “Why do you care?”

Decker shrugged. “I’ve gotten to know Baron a little bit. I think he’s okay. I’d hate for him to get messed up in any of this.”

Cindi put the bottle of water down and picked up her cloth again. When a customer caught her eye and lifted his glass for a refill, she said to Decker, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

He held up his beer in answer and took another drink.

A minute later she returned and said, “I’ve got another bartender coming in at ten. You want to talk then?”

“Works for me.”

“You’re right,” she said. “John is a good guy.”

“It’s nice to be right.”

“So, messed up in what?”

“Ten o’clock,” he replied.

*



At the stroke of ten Cindi handed the bartending over to someone else and motioned to Decker to join her at the back of the bar.

“My car’s parked in back.”

“Mine’s in front.”

“I’ll drive you back here. It’s not that far.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my place.”

“You sure that’s wise?”

“Are you?” she shot back.

They climbed into a midnight black Toyota Land Cruiser.

“Nice ride,” he said. “And not cheap.”

“I get good tips and good deals on cars.”

She drove them to a large brick building on the edge of downtown. As they traveled, Decker could see a number of renovation projects under way.

“Baronville making a comeback?” he asked.

“In parts,” she said cryptically.

They arrived at an underground parking garage and she pulled into a numbered space. They took an elevator up to the top floor. Cindi opened the door to her place and motioned Decker in.

She said, “This was an old textile mill. Renovated to luxury condos.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ve been here.”

“When?”

He gave her a quick glance. “When I came to check out Bradley Costa’s apartment. He lived here too.”

“That’s right, he did,” she said casually.