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Chapter18
TRAMMEL, OHIO.
Decker had never been here, though it was only a two-hour drive southwest of Burlington. It wasn’t that far mileage-wise, but the only way there was mostly over state routes and rural back roads.
Trammel’s downtown looked just like a photo of his hometown, right down to the dinginess and despair, alleviated by the glimpses of hope in the form of a new business opening and the foundation of a building being dug. And young faces on the sidewalks, and late-model cars on the streets.
Mitzi Gardiner lived in what Decker would call the upscale part of town, made up of large old homes where Trammel’s elite had once lived, and where the new money had now congregated. They were large and brick with a past century’s small windows, immaculately landscaped lawns with mature trees and bushes, and more modern additions tacked on by recent owners. Most had gated front entrancesand luxury cars parked in the curved drives.
After being buzzed in through the gate, he walked up to the front door, noting the precisely laid-out planting beds, though the flowers had withered or else died out as fall deepened to winter. The house’s windows were sparkling clean, the brick veneer seemed to have just been power-washed, and the front double doors looked like a fresh coat of paint had just been applied to them.
Neat, nice, monied. All the things Mitzi Gardiner had never been when Decker first met her. She’d been an unemployed drug addict and petty criminal who would steal and prostitute herself out to anyone to support her habit. He remembered her as tall, scrawny, and pasty, with needle-tracked arms and a deviated septum from all the snorted coke. Her pupils had been dilated, her movements jerky and largely out of her control. A wreck of a human being.
He knocked on the door and immediately heard footsteps approaching. He had phoned ahead. She knew he was coming.
When the door opened, Decker could hardly believe his own eyes. Or, even more incredibly, his infallible memory.
The woman gazing back at him was around forty, tall, shapely, her blonde hair done in such a way as to maximize both its fullness and attractiveness. She wore a pale blue dress that flattered her hips and showed a glimpse of cleavage, a simple necklace with one emerald at the throat, and a large diamond engagement ring and wedding band on her left hand. Her makeup and complexion were perfect. The once-destroyed septum had been fully repaired. The eyes held not a hint of dilation. The teeth were white and perfect and no doubt veneers, for her drug habit had left her own teeth gray and diseased, he recalled.
She must have registered his surprise. “It’s been a long time, Detective Decker,” she commented, her full lips curving into a self-satisfied smile at his amazed look.
“Yes, it has. I’m glad to see that you’ve…”
“Turned my life around? Yes, I have. Years of bad choices followed by some far better ones. Would you like to come in?”
She led him inside and then to an old-fashioned conservatory at the back of the house overlooking the pool and manicured rear grounds. A uniformed maid came in with a tray of coffee. Mitzi poured out the coffee after the maid departed.
“I assume you’d heard about your father before I contacted you?” said Decker, his cup cradled in one big hand.
“I saw the news, yes,” she said.
“As next of kin you’ll probably be called on to make a formal ID. I mean, we know it’s him. It’s just a formality.”
“I would prefer not to. In fact, I would prefer to have nothing to do with it.”
“Heisyour father.”
“And he also killed four people.”
“He has no other family left. And there’s the matter of burial.”
“They must have protocols for that when someone can’t afford to be buried. Can’t they just cremate him?”
Decker let his gaze wander around the sumptuous interior of the conservatory. “I guess so, for those who can’t pay for it.”
“I know you must think I’m a terrible person, Detective Decker. But the fact is I haven’t seen my father since he went to prison for murdering those people.”
“You never visited him there?”
“Why would I?” She leaned in closer to him. “I have a new life that I worked really hard on. Brad, my husband, doesn’t know anything, really, of my past. I moved from Burlington, cleaned up my act, legally changed my last name, finished college, started working in the financial field, and met my husband. We married, and now I’m a full-time mom and loving it.”
Decker looked around. “What does your husband do? It must pay well.”
“It does. He runs his own high-end job placement platform.”
“High-end?”
“Corporate executives, law and finance, manufacturing, Silicon Valley and all its high-tech positions, lobbying, defense industry, even government positions. He’s been very successful.”
