A FEW MINUTES later Decker sat across from McClellan in the latter’s office.
The man looked him over. “Don’t take this the wrong way, son, but you look a little out of shape to be in the FBI.”
“You should have seen me before I went on the diet.” Decker fell silent, studying the policeman.
“Is there something else you’d care to discuss?” asked McClellan. “I take it your friends have headed on?”
“They’ve got other things to check out. But I thought I’d come back and talk to you.”
“Really? About what?”
“The Four Musketeers?”
“Come again?”
“The Four Musketeers?”
“You mean the Three Musketeers, don’t you? Like in the story? Or am I missing something?”
“I was thinking more local. And I was counting Charles Montgomery as the fourth Musketeer.”
“Who?”
“You played football with him at Ole Miss, didn’t you? Because he was on the team at the same time you were.”
“Couldn’t tell you. Long time ago. Memories fade.”
“But you don’t have to worry about him. He’s dead. Executed by the state of Alabama. But I’m sure you knew that.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I might have misspoken.”
“Do tell.”
“The Three Musketeers, like it said in the Cain High School yearbook. You, Danny Eastland, and Thurman Huey. You guys ran the veer, two halfbacks and one quarterback. Huey was the QB, you and Eastland were the bangers. Did it work well for you?”
“Danny was more of a scatback. I did the hard running. But we won two state championships in a row. And in Mississippi, football rests only one rung below going to church as a state pastime.”
“I’m sure. So anyway, the Three Musketeers. Friends for life.”
“Is this going somewhere that I can understand?”
“Try this one on. Was it your idea to have Montgomery drive by drunk so the cops on duty would have an excuse to give chase and let you boys do your little dirty deed? Or was that the QB Huey talking? Because that was Montgomery’s role: the drunk driver who diverted the cops from guarding the NAACP office in Tuscaloosa and then later at the church here in Cain.”
McClellan gave him a pitying look. “You’re speaking gibberish, I’m afraid. Do I need to check you for being intoxicated?”
Decker sat back and assumed a deliberately thoughtful expression, though he had very little to think about, actually. He knew exactly how this was going to play out.
“Now, it might be that Roy Mars, or whatever his name was, was the fourth Musketeer, not Montgomery, though Chucky did provide the distraction at both bombing sites. You would have known Roy under his real name, not the fake one. His first name begins with an ‘A’ and his last name begins with a ‘C.’ That’s all I know.” Decker paused before delivering the hammer blow. “He didn’t tell me what his real name was when he met with me a short time ago.”
The only discernible reaction by the police chief to this information was a slight facial tic that Decker had not observed previously because it wasn’t there.
Decker pretended to look confused. “I’m sorry, maybe you didn’t know he was still alive. The stuff back in Texas? All smoke and mirrors. Cost Melvin twenty years of his life for something he didn’t do.”
McClellan licked his lips. “So you’re saying this Roy person is alive?”
“Very much. He stuck a knife against my throat while I was sleeping. Very formidable guy. Kill you without blinking. But then you knew that he might still be alive. Or at least you had to assume that when Montgomery came forward to get Melvin out of prison. The only reason he would have done that is if Roy had come forward and bribed him. And Roy couldn’t do that if Roy was dead. The Three Muskeeters weren’t going to pay a dime to get Melvin out of prison.”
“Actually, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I think we already established that.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not wearing a wire. Probably illegal if I even tried. But you want me to keep talking, right?” Decker half rose. “Or do you want me to just head on out? Your call.”
McClellan spread his hands. “In my book knowing more is always better than knowing less.”
“I thought you’d see it that way,” said Decker, sitting back down. “So anyway, he has the goods, Chief. I know you don’t want to hear that, but he does. All these years coming back to bite you in the ass. I know it can’t be easy.”
“The goods?”
“Hard evidence. No statute of limitations on murder. You know that.”
“I do indeed, though I’m missing a few steps that you seem to have already made.” He chuckled. “You’re too quick for me.”
“I’m not here to ask you to confess. That’s not going to happen. You’ll play stupid till they lethal inject you.”
McClellan took a sip from his mug. “You’ve lost me again, big fella. What’s your name again?”
“Amos Decker. Did you know I played football for Ohio State? Melvin ran all over my ass when we played UT. Best running back I’ve ever seen, and I saw and played with some good ones.” He leaned forward. “But the thing is, Chief, I’d take Melvin any day with his cleats in my face over his old man.”
“Really? Why is that, son?”
“Because Melvin has a conscience. His old man doesn’t. It was clear that he believed you boys screwed him over. And then when you found him out and came after him in Texas, that cost him everything. Roy had to shotgun his wife in the face. Only person he probably ever loved. Sent his son to prison. But that was small potatoes next to losing Lucinda. The guy’s only thinking about revenge now. And when he had that knife against my throat he told me what he was going to do to all of you.”
“Did he now?”
“I have hyperthymesia, do you know what that is?”
McClellan shook his head. “No idea. Sounds like that ADD thing.”
“It means I have perfect recall. Can never forget anything. So for me, time doesn’t heal all wounds. Because I remember them just as clearly this moment as the day they happened, regardless of the interval of time.”
“Doesn’t sound too good.”
“It sucks, actually.”
“And your point?”
“Roy Mars may have that same condition, but only with one memory that he holds. His wife. Time has not healed the man’s wounds over her. He has to blame someone. And he blames the three of you. And that is not good for your future well-being.”
McClellan edged forward. “Excuse me, son, but are you threatening me?”
“You’re a police chief, but face it, this is a podunk town. Roy could take you out when you’re drinking a beer at the local watering hole, or flipping burgers on your Weber, no sweat. Danny Eastland, now maybe he’s a tougher nut because he’s got money, but eventually he’ll go down too because even a mountain of cash means nothing when you have a psychopath like Roy coming after you. And then we have Thurman Huey, the big congressman on the Hill. But even he doesn’t have special protection unless he gets elected as Speaker. So bang-bang-bang. And see the biggest advantage that Roy Mars has is he doesn’t care if he dies. In fact, I believe he wants to die. But not before finishing the game.”
“So you think this is a game, do you?”
Decker rose. “Actually, I don’t. No more than those people in the church or the NAACP office thought it was a game when you assholes blew them into the next life.”
“You’re making some very wild accusations. I could get you on slander.”
“By the time you file the papers, you’ll either be Roy’s next victim and resting on a morgue slab, or else we’ll have enough evidence to take it from a slander case against me to a capital murder case against you.”
Decker headed to the door, but then turned back.
“Oh, one more thing. Roy Mars murdered Charles Montgomery’s wife. You don’t have to know why, just that he did. And his choice of murder weapon was an explosive device so sophisticated that the police could find no trace of it. Boom, she was gone, just like that. Sort of like the church, right? I wonder, did he make the explosive in that one too? If so, the man knows what he’s doing, that’s for damn sure.” Decker looked around. “Maybe he’s already planted one in here. Or in your car. Or at your house.”
“What the hell do you want from me?” asked McClellan.
“That’s the thing, Chief. I don’t need anything from you. Nothing at all.”
Decker opened the door and walked out.