Decker said, “How did a car get here?”
“Back then there was a road leading from the house to here. A long time ago my great-grandfather had it put in. That was when money was more plentiful. They would drive their cars here and picnic. They’d spend the whole day here, I was told. When I was a child, I remember my father bringing me and my mother down here, though we never had the luxury of an all-day picnic. But it was still very nice. Some of my happiest times here were with my parents.”
He sat down cross-legged on the grass. Decker and Jamison remained standing.
“Now I come here sometimes just to think. And look at the water. And drink,” Baron added. “I was in college at the time, just beginning my second year, when I got a call from the police. They had found my parents in their car at the bottom of the pond. They were quite dead, of course.”
“My God,” said Jamison.
Baron looked up at her. “I doubt God had anything to do with it.” He glanced back at the water.
“What did the police say at the time?” asked Decker.
“They were convinced it was either an accident or, more likely, some sort of suicide pact. Even back then we were paupers, though I didn’t know it. My parents were feeling the strain of keeping up the Baron image without the financial resources to do so. You see the house the way it is now. Back then it was better and we could still afford help both in the house and with the grounds, but it was difficult. My father was a good man. He could see the handwriting on the wall. He went to college and law school. He made a good living as an attorney, but it wasn’t nearly enough to maintain all that the Barons had accumulated. My mother brought some money to the marriage, but it wasn’t enough either.”
“So why not sell the house and grounds and move?” asked Jamison.
“Even back then the house was crushed under a mortgage, which really made it unmarketable. And there were tax bills and other debts, all of which accumulated interest. It seemed like the harder my father worked to pay them off, the faster the debts grew. He kept going, but he ended up robbing Peter to pay Paul. I know they were thrilled when I received a baseball scholarship to college.”
“He could have declared bankruptcy,” suggested Decker.
“To him it was a matter of honor. He was not going to walk away from it.”
“So he might have felt desperate,” observed Jamison.
Baron abruptly stood. “Not desperate enough to kill himself. And even if he had come to that decision, he certainly would never have suggested that my mother join him in the hereafter.” He paused. “I would like to think that the subject of their only child might have come into any such decision-making process, and that my parents would not have wanted to leave me all alone.”
“Could it have been an accident, then?” said Jamison.
“I don’t see how. You couldn’t accidentally drive your car into the pond. It had to have been deliberate.”
“But you think it was deliberate murder?” said Decker. “Did your parents have enemies?”
“They had enemies simply by being Barons.”
“What did the police conclude?”
“I’m not sure they ever officially concluded anything. They did tell me that they suspected my parents had died either accidentally, or intentionally by their own hand. But no suicide note could be found.”
Decker nodded. “Could they have been incapacitated first and then placed in the car? With the slope, all someone would have to do was put the car in neutral and it would roll right into the water.”
“I asked the police that.”
“And what did they say?”
“That it was still an ongoing investigation and they couldn’t provide those details.”
“And when the investigation no longer was ongoing?” asked Jamison.
“Apparently it still is, because the police never released a definitive finding one way or another. And they still won’t answer any of my questions.”
“You still ask?” said Jamison.
“About once or twice a year. I used to write letters or make phone calls. Now I do it by email directly to the police commissioner.”
“And does the commissioner answer you?”
“With language that would be inappropriate to use in front of a lady,” replied Baron, with a glance at Jamison. “And now, unless you have anything further, I really need to get back to that nap.” He abruptly walked off.
Jamison turned to Decker, who was still staring at the pond.
“Now that is one complicated man,” she said. “Shooting one-liners one second and then telling us his parents were murdered the next.”
Decker glanced back in the direction of Baron, who was just disappearing into the woods.
“Decker? Did you hear me?”
He nodded.
“Do you think his parents could have been murdered?”
“I’m in no position to say one way or another. And that’s not why we’re here. We have six recent murders to investigate.” He turned back to look at the pond.
“But you are curious, aren’t you? I can tell.”
Decker turned and walked past her.
“Wait a minute, where are you going?”
“While Baron is ‘napping,’ I want to look around.”
Chapter 28
DECKER, WE CAN’T just barge into the man’s house while he’s here. We don’t have a warrant.”
She was hustling after Decker and caught up to him after he cleared the tree line and the mansion and other buildings came into view once more.
“I just want to look around the grounds and maybe in some of the outbuildings.”
“We still need a warrant to do that.”
“Do we?”
“You damn well know we do.”
Ignoring this, he kept walking until he reached the garage, which was not attached to the house but was separated by a lumpy brick courtyard. The garage had six bays, and all six were wide open, allowing them to see clearly inside.
“Just the one Suburban,” observed Decker. “Looks pretty old.”
The truck sat a bit crooked in the bay closest to the house.
“I don’t see anything that jumps out,” said Jamison.
Decker stepped into the garage and examined one of the walls.
“Look at this, Alex.”
She drew up next to him and looked at the hole in the wall.
“It’s a hole, so what?”
Decker pointed around. “There’re holes over there and over there. And I noticed some in the house when we were passing down the hall. And they were in his study too.”
Jamison’s face screwed up. “That’s weird. Do you think he has rats? And they opened the walls to check for that? Or mold?”
“That might be it. I would imagine a place like this is overrun with vermin and mold.”
“Great, and we’ve been breathing it all this time.”
“Well, he’s been breathing it all his life.” Decker glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe we’ll have better luck with that building over there.” He headed off to a structure set about a hundred yards away.
Jamison hurried after him, glancing back at the house to see if perhaps Baron was watching them.
Decker reached the building.
It had stone walls, a tin roof, and a thick wooden door, with a pair of windows bracketing the front portal.
“What do you think this is?” asked Jamison.
“One way to find out.”
Decker opened the door and stepped inside.
Jamison scooted in after him, looking uncomfortable at this illegal intrusion.
Inside were shelves with clay pots, an old copper sink, stacks of wooden boxes with faded writing on the sides, and hooks on the wall from which a variety of gardening tools and instruments hung. On the countertops were old seed packets and long, shallow wooden boxes with metal mesh over them. Next to that were some old leather-bound journals.
Jamison opened one and looked down at the spidery writing that included plant references, weather, soil conditions, and lists of supplies and materials.
“It’s a potting shed,” she concluded. “I haven’t seen one of them since, well, I never have except on HGTV. Some of the entries in this journal are dated eighty years ago.”
“They probably had a full-time outdoor staff way back when. Maybe a flower and kitchen garden.”