“The businesses were still operating when he died,” said Decker.
“Yes, but they all petered out from a combination of a lack of capital and Baron’s heirs not being nearly as good at business as he was.”
Decker said, “That brings me back to my original question. If there is treasure up there, it would be pretty hard for someone to look for it without you knowing, right?”
“Well, I’m almost always there. And when I’m gone, it’s only for a couple hours. And you can’t access the grounds without coming right past the front door.”
“And you still own the place, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“But if you get convicted of murder, what happens?”
“You damn well know what happens. I go to prison.”
Jamison interjected, “No, he means what happens to the property? The house?”
Baron’s brows knitted together. “Oh, I see. Well, I’m barely keeping my head above water. I wouldn’t be able to work in prison, so my income, little though it is, dries up.”
“You could sell some of your personal assets. Like the old guns you showed us.”
“It’s not just that.”
“What else?”
“Well, although Brad Costa denied my most recent request, I did manage to refinance the mortgage a year or so ago. The bank gave me a slightly lower interest rate, but there was language added.”
“What sort of language?” asked Jamison.
“A moral turpitude clause. The estate possibly could be designated as a historic site. That gives it value. But any sort of scandal would lessen the worth of the property, and that added value was factored into my refinancing request.”
Jamison said, “So are you saying that if you were arrested and convicted of a crime…?”
“The bank would be able to declare an event of default and they could foreclose and sell off the property to the highest bidder. Even if I could continue to make the payments on the mortgage.”
“But why would they care, if you could still make the payments?” said Jamison.
“Because the collateral for the loan is the house. If I committed a serious crime, they argued that it would diminish the marketability and value of that collateral. Thus they wanted the right to find me in default so they could try to salvage that asset.”
Baron eyed Decker. “You don’t seem surprised by this.”
“I’m not.”
“Why not?”
“If you didn’t commit the murders then someone was trying awfully hard to see that you were blamed for them. You knew or had contact with all four victims. This wasn’t apparent for all of them. It required some digging on our part. And you didn’t help yourself by lying to us.”
“Obviously.”
“So whoever did kill them didn’t want to make it seem too easy.”
“Why not?” asked Jamison.
“Because we would have come to the conclusion that someone was framing Baron.”
“And is that the conclusion you’ve now reached?” asked Baron.
“I’m getting there. How much is the mortgage on the property?”
“A lot.”
“So whoever wanted to buy out the mortgage would have to have deep pockets?”
“Yes. The bank will take less money for it, but not a lot less.”
“And Costa knew all this?”
“He was the one who did the new deal, including the moral turpitude clause. As I said, when I went back to him later for another extension at a lower rate and better terms, he refused.”
Jamison said, “Do you think Costa was planning to somehow buy the mortgage off and get the property that way? Then he would own the place and be able to look for the treasure at his leisure?”
“I think that was his plan, but I also think he already knew where the treasure was,” said Decker.
Baron sat up straighter. “What? Then where is it?”
“I’m not sure. But he nicked a letter from the historical society that I think provided him with the answer.”
Jamison said, “But, Decker, Costa couldn’t buy the property himself, could he? That would be like self-dealing. There have to be bank regulations prohibiting that.”
“I’m sure there are,” said Decker. “Which is why he was going to need a straw man.”
“Somebody to buy the property in their name and then let him go up there and get the treasure?”
“Yes. He probably offered the person a percentage of the take.”
“So now we have to find that person,” said Jamison.
“Yes, we do, because that person also murdered Babbot, Tanner, Swanson, and Bradley Costa.” He paused and looked at Jamison. “And I think they murdered Frank too.”
Chapter 58
AS THEY WERE driving back to the Mitchells’, Jamison blurted out, “If you thought they had Frank killed, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told you before that I suspected his death might not be an accident.”
“Yeah, but now you sound a lot more sure.”
“That’s because I am a lot more sure.”
“But why would they kill Frank?”
“He saw something he shouldn’t have, probably.”
“But it was the robot that killed him.”
“But people control robots. And what if it did exactly as it was programmed to do, while Frank was standing next to it?”
Before Jamison could answer, Decker’s phone rang.
It was Kemper.
“We just did a quick down and dirty on the two houses. Both tested positive for traces of heroin and fentanyl. Decker, I don’t know how long I can sit on this.”
“We need just a little more time. Have you been keeping Ross under surveillance?”
“Yeah, he left yesterday with his duffel. And I’m betting there wasn’t just gym clothes in there. He went into a number of buildings, including the gym. It would have been too conspicuous for us to follow him inside. He came back out each time with the duffel, but there’s no guarantee that the pill bottles were still in there. So there’s evidence that probably just went poof.”
“We’ll nail these guys, Agent Kemper.”
“We better. Because if we don’t my career is over. I just need you to understand that we’re running out of time.”
She clicked off and Decker looked at Jamison, who had obviously overheard the DEA agent’s strident tones.
“She sounds a little panicked,” said Jamison.
“Yeah. I guess,” Decker said vaguely.
“Don’t you ever panic, Decker?”
“Never saw the value.”
“We can’t tell Amber your theory about Frank. Not until we’re sure.”
“I know that.”
The skies opened up and a fine rain began to fall.
“God, Baronville is dreary enough without the bad weather,” observed Jamison as she drove along.
“Dreary with bright spots,” amended Decker. “Look over there at that bakery. Cindi Riley told me about it. The owner had a life insurance policy on her son. He overdosed and his policy paid out enough for her to open a business.”
“You really think something hinky is going on with that.”
“Hinky enough for us to stop there and get some coffee.”
Jamison pulled into the parking lot and they entered the Peacock Bakery. There was a neon sign out front in the shape of the colorful bird.
Inside, the place was neat and well laid out with whitewashed wooden tables, multicolored tablecloths, and glass cabinets filled with delicacies. Behind the counter was a large chalkboard mounted on the wall with the bakery’s menu written on it.
Jamison sniffed the air and moaned. “God, just the aroma makes me want to eat everything in the place.”
A woman appeared from behind a curtain at the back of the counter.
She looked thin and worn and her face was heavily wrinkled, and her hair was shot through with gray. But her smile was pleasant and her eyes twinkled as she looked at them.
“What can I do for y’all?” she asked.
Decker said, “Two large coffees to go.”
Jamison pointed to some items in one of the display cases. “Are those carrot cake muffins?”
“Yes, ma’am, they are.”
“Awesome. We’ll take two.”
“That’s a right good choice. They’re fresh out of the oven. I’m Linda Drews. I own the place.”
“Hi, Linda. I’m Alex and this is Amos. So why name the place the Peacock Bakery?”