MARS JUST STOOD there for a few moments staring up at it.
The day was dry, the sky clear, and the heat building, though it was January.
He glanced over at Decker. Next to him stood Jamison and Davenport.
Decker said, “You good?”
Mars nodded slightly, his gaze fixed tightly on his old home. They were a foot from the front porch.
“You said you been in it?” said Mars.
Decker nodded.
“What’s in there?”
“Not much. But that’s not the important thing. The important thing is you being here and something occurring to you.”
They had arrived back in town and immediately met with Jamison and Davenport at the motel they had checked them all into. The women had spoken with the local police to find that not a lot of progress had been made. Indeed, now that Mars had been pardoned, it seemed the Texas authorities considered the case closed.
“We did meet with Mary Oliver,” Jamison had told Mars. “Melvin, she’s filed a request with the state for compensation for you.”
“How long will that take?” Mars asked. “I don’t have any money or any job.”
“She wasn’t sure but she did say she filed for an expedited review. She seemed optimistic that you’d receive the maximum allowance.”
“Yeah, twenty-five grand,” he’d muttered before heading out to the car to come here.
Now Decker led the way into the house, the old door’s hinges, broken from when Decker had forced it, giving a torturous shriek. Mars winced slightly as he followed Decker in. The women brought up the rear.
They stood in the front room for a few minutes. Jamison and Davenport looked around, while Decker kept his gaze on Mars.
The man looked frozen, as though he had just been teleported back to the 1990s.
“Take your time,” advised Decker.
Mars went over to the photos on the shelf. He picked up the one of him in his football uniform and stared down at it.
“Walk down memory lane,” said Decker.
“But it’s like this isn’t even me,” replied Mars. He looked at the other photos one by one. “None of these. It’s like they’re all someone else.”
Davenport said, “That’s because your life changed so dramatically, Melvin. Your past has become so detached it’s nearly unrecognizable.”
“So no pictures of your parents?” noted Decker. “Other than the one you mentioned that was taken when you were in high school?”
“Yeah, like I said, they didn’t care for that. That was the only one of them when I was living here.”
“Who took the photo of your parents?”
“I did.”
“Who took all these pictures of you? Your dad or your mom?”
“My mom.”
“Okay.”
“Why?”
“Just wondering.”
They covered the ground floor, Mars stopping and staring at various spots.
Decker said, “You had the shotgun for hunting. Did your parents have other weapons?”
Mars nodded dumbly. “My dad had two pistols. A nine-mil and a forty-five. Pretty pieces. He kept them locked up. But at night he would take one out and carry it up to bed with him.”
“What happened to them?” asked Jamison.
“I don’t know.”
Davenport glanced at Decker. “Except for the shotgun there was nothing in any of the police reports about finding weapons here.”
“And Charles Montgomery didn’t mention taking anything from here,” added Jamison.
Decker nodded. “And if your dad had been surprised by an intruder in bed he would have had a gun to defend himself.”
“What does that tell us?” asked Davenport, looking suddenly intrigued.
“That they forgot that part of the story,” said Decker. “Melvin, did you tell anyone about the pistols?”
“No, nobody asked me.”
“And you didn’t testify at trial,” added Decker. “So what happened to the guns?”
Davenport looked around. “Well, somebody could have come along and taken them later.”
Decker shook his head. “The police would have searched this place from top to bottom long before any souvenir hunter could have taken anything. And if they had found two pistols it would have been listed in the inventory. They weren’t, so that means the pistols were not found here.” He looked at Mars. “You said he kept them locked up. Where?”
“Portable gun case he kept in the hall closet.”
“How big?”
“About two feet square.”
“Show me.”
They trooped to the closet and Mars pointed to the spot, a shelf above the clothes rack. Decker already knew there was no gun case there, because he had looked in the closet during his first visit here.
Decker said, “Your parents were killed by the shotgun you had and which was found here, and then their bodies were burned. No reason to inquire about handguns. And the police didn’t.” He shot Mars a glance. “Who would have known about the gun case?”
Mars shrugged. “I knew. My mom knew. We never had visitors here. So maybe nobody else knew.”
“Well, someone must have, because they’re gone.” Decker added, “Why did he have two pistols?”
“Everybody in Texas has guns.”
“Shotguns, rifles, yeah, but why two handguns?”
“We lived in the boonies. For protection, I guess.”
“Did you see them any other time except when he took one up to bed with him?”
“One night my dad was cleaning them.”
“That the only time you saw him cleaning them?” asked Decker.
Mars nodded.
“When was that?”
“Why does that matter?” snapped Mars, but then he calmed. “I’m not sure. Sometime around—”
“Around the time you went to the elementary school? Maybe a few days after?”
Mars looked at him in surprise. “Yeah, how’d you figure that?”
Jamison answered. “Because your dad might have assumed someone saw him on the telecast and recognized him.”
Davenport added, “So your father was getting ready in case someone from his past came calling.”
Decker concluded, “And they apparently did.”
Jamison gave Decker a curious look. “Okay, I get them taking out their revenge or whatever on the parents, but why frame Melvin for it?”
“Maybe payback by association,” said Decker. “They wanted to take out the whole family.”
“But why not just kill me too?” asked Mars. “Why set up this elaborate frame?”
“I wish I could answer that, but I can’t,” said Decker. “But for some reason they wanted you to pay the penalty for their crime.”
Davenport cleared her throat and the others turned to her. She glanced nervously at Mars. “I’m not saying this is the case, Melvin.”
“What?” he said abruptly. “What’s not the case?”
“Whoever killed your parents may have mimicked whatever wrong, or perceived wrong,” she added quickly, “that may have been committed against them.”
“Wait a damn minute, are you saying my parents committed crimes against someone else? Killed somebody and they did what they did to get even?”
“It’s a possibility only,” said Davenport delicately. “And probably not a plausible one.”
“I can’t believe my parents were criminals!”
“As I said before, lots of people get put into Witness Protection who are not criminals,” said Decker. “And your parents may well be in that category.”
“Yeah, well, when will we find out for sure?”
“I hope soon. You want to go upstairs now?”
“No.” But Mars nonetheless headed for the stairs.