Chapter 35

Kate sat in her apartment, staring blankly at the TV. She didn’t know any of Lyle’s relatives so she had called Earl and told him that someone needed to see Lyle before he walked into his house. She persuaded Earl to be the one, but as the evening wore on, she thought she should have gone, too. She started to call Lyle then changed her mind. Better to leave the two of them alone.

She’d heard about the murder second hand, hours after it was reported to security. Clyde Bates left a message with her secretary that afternoon. The message said there had been a murder in the Timeless Village housing area. The name of the victim was Hank Deming. Even if Kate had not lived in Timeless Village, and even if the victim had not been Lyle’s father, she would have wanted to know why in hell Bates waited so long to tell her. And then he took the chicken way out and left a message. Bates’s people had finally started to give Kate regular security updates, but this was the kind of news she should have heard immediately.

When she got the message, she rushed across the park to the security headquarters, marched into Bates’s office, and sat in front of him as he explained the crime in detail. NC security had been first on the scene and later, the San Navarro Sheriff’s Office had been notified. Hank Deming was shot twice with a handgun. There were no suspects and few leads. The sheriff was treating the case as a daytime burglary gone wrong.

Kate briefed her media-relations manager and told her to call if they got any press inquiries. Then she went to Max’s office and tried to reassure him and Brent Pelham that this would not be a disastrous blow, though she felt it could be. By 10 p.m. that evening, they had received no media calls.

***

When Lyle woke up the next morning, he didn’t know where he was. It wasn’t a hotel room, but it didn’t look familiar. He looked around then remembered he’d gone to Earl’s place in Flagstaff. His father was dead. Not another heart attack but murder. Lyle tensed. He wanted to see his father, wanted to know where they’d taken him. He’d seen bodies before. He just needed to know.

“How you doing, bro?” Earl asked, his voice a soft rumble as he stepped into the bedroom holding a cup of coffee.

Lyle hoped it was as strong as Earl usually made. He wanted to think clearly, knew there were things he was supposed to do. “What time is it?”

“After nine.”

Lyle groaned.

“Wanted to let you sleep.”

“I need to do...something.”

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. I’ve gotta leave in a few minutes. I have to tape a program.”

“Thanks, Earl. I’ll be fine.”

Earl put a note down on the nightstand. “One of the guys from the sheriff’s department wants to talk to you.”

“Rey Martinez. I know him.”

“Here’s the key to my car. Someone’s picking me up. Catch up with you later.”

When Earl left, Lyle lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind churned with a variety of thoughts, among them guilt for leaving his father alone and guilt for the feeling of being released from having to look after him. After a while, Lyle rolled over and picked up the note from Martinez.

***

Two hours later, Lyle met Martinez at the condo. Lyle got there a few minutes early and looked around. Obviously, a fight had taken place in the family room. An ashtray was knocked over. Several butts lay on the floor. A small end table had been tipped over and the cops hadn’t bothered to straighten it. Preserving the crime scene.

Lyle had been at crime scenes--murders--but never one in his own home. He felt as if he were standing in a movie set for an unfinished drama. Martinez had told Lyle on the phone that the condo had already been checked over by the county’s criminalists for fingerprints and other evidence, yet he still was reluctant to touch anything. Was it the ex-cop afraid to disturb evidence or the son not wanting to concede the reality of his father’s death?

The undersheriff of San Navarro County arrived, dressed in a suit. His eyes met Lyle’s.

“Nothing prepares you for this, does it?” Lyle asked. “You can be a cop for years and see murder, but when it’s in your own house...”

Martinez said he was sorry then began his explanation. “As usual,” he said, “my men were called after NC security was already on the scene.”

“How’d that happen?” Lyle asked. “I don’t have an alarm. NC residential security only responds to alarms, don’t they?”

“One of your neighbors called security to report gunshots. She was scared. An NC security cruiser happened to be nearby. The rent-a-cop was armed so he decided to check it out and--”

“But the perps had gone,” Lyle broke in, “and so they called the sheriff.”

“I guess that’s what happened. Security guard said your father wasn’t breathing when he got here.”

Lyle ran a hand through his hair and roamed around the room. Martinez had questions for Lyle, as he’d expected. Did he and his father live here alone? Where was Lyle at the time? What was his father’s physical condition? What valuables did Lyle keep at home?

“Only thing I can think of is a small collection of 45 rpm records. But they’re probably too scratchy to be worth anything. C’mon on Rey. I was a cop. My dad’s been retired. You think we can afford valuables?”

“What about guns?”

Lyle hadn’t checked. He kept two handguns at home: a 9mm semi-auto and a .38 revolver. Guns were always a target for burglars, but who would break into his condo in daylight, considering he had nothing of value and didn’t advertise the fact that he owned guns? He rooted around in his closet where he kept the revolver and in the kitchen where he kept the 9 mm. Both were there and hadn’t been fired.

“This doesn’t make sense. My father was shot in a daylight burglary? How many burglars do you know who carry guns?”

“You were a cop for a long time. We do make enemies.”

“Yeah, I have plenty of enemies. And not all of them are crooks, either. I’ve busted some pretty stupid guys, but not too many would break into my house to shoot me when I’m out of state.”

Lyle wanted to ask as many questions as Martinez. They sparred, exchanging information.

“We think your father must have surprised him--we don’t know for sure if there was more than one--soon after he effected entry.”

“How’d he get away?”

“Ran out the back after the shots. Must have had a car stashed somewhere.”

Martinez walked across the family room. “I’m telling you this because you are--were--a cop. Right now the only other thing we have to go on is another burglary a couple of weeks ago, two blocks from here. You have any ideas?”

Lyle had ideas. Plenty of ’em. Somehow, this was connected to Nostalgia City. But how? He couldn’t even get evidence against the bastards at FedPat. How could he link them to his father’s murder?

“Right now, I don’t know. Maybe there’s a connection to the sabotage at Nostalgia City. I’ve been talking to people, asking questions.”

“You think someone might have been trying to get to you?”

“No. Maybe. I dunno.”

If FedPat was involved, Lyle thought, they could have known he was not in town. “Rey, I don’t know. It’s just a suspicion. Why would they kill my dad to stop me from investigating? That’s stupid.” He said again, slowly, “Why did they kill my dad?” Turning toward a wall, he struck it with the side of his fist.