Memory Man

And the slight guttural undertones of the speech coupled with the sharp, angular bone structure of Leopold’s face made Decker believe he was European, possibly German or Austrian. There was enough homogeneity in those populations that the facial features were far more uniform over the generations than in melting pots like the U.S.

So it might be that Belinda Wyatt, undoubtedly a homegrown American girl perhaps turned boy, joined forces with an older European male. How do two such very different people meet? How do they come together to plan something like this? Decker felt sure if they could track down Leopold’s true identity a lot of questions would start being answered.

As he thought about this another possibility entered his mind.

He said out loud, “7-Eleven.”

That had undoubtedly been a clue. In her interview notes, Lancaster had instinctively interpreted it as a reference to the ubiquitous convenience stores. But was there more to it than that? Leopold had not wanted to come right out and say he was actually referring to 711 Duckton Avenue. But he had to know that Lancaster had misinterpreted his statement. She had actually asked him which 7-Eleven, and when Leopold had been noncommittal she had just assumed it was the one closest to Decker’s home. But Leopold had let that go. He would know that the police, that Decker more importantly, would check that out. That he would go to that store on DeSalle and see what he could see. And that meant—

He might be wrong. But he didn’t think so. In fact, Decker thought he was absolutely right.

He left his room and headed back out into the night.

Chapter 55

He spent ten minutes watching the store from across the street. He saw people go in and people go out. Cars came and went. And still he kept watching. He was watching to see if anyone was watching him. When Decker was satisfied that there was no one doing so, he hurried across the street and approached the door. He glanced through the glass and saw the same woman at the counter, once more counting packs of cigarettes and ticking them off on her sheets. He could see no other customers in the store.

He opened the door and the bell tinkled. The woman looked up. It took her a moment but she recognized Decker.

Because of his size and appearance he was hard to forget and harder to miss.

“You’re back?” she said.

“I’m back,” said Decker, his gaze darting around the corners of the store. His hand had slipped to his pocket where his gun sat.

She said, “I owe you change from when you were here last. The coffee, pastry, and paper didn’t add up to five dollars.”

“Keep the change. You work long hours. Morning, night.”

“I do work long hours, but I’m also on different shifts. Today I work the night shift.”

“How’s business?”

“Slow now. We sell a lot in the morning when people are going to work. Coffee, cigarettes, and sausage biscuits. And Red Bull by the gallon.”

“The other person here when I came by the first time. Billy, right? Is he here?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s not here.”

“He doesn’t work here anymore, does he?” Decker said.

She looked startled. “How did you know that?”

“When was he here last?”

“The day you came in the first time. I was pissed when he didn’t show up for work after that. I had to do his job too.”

“Do you have his employment file here?”

“Yes. In the back.”

“Can I see it?”

“No. Company policy.”

“Can you tell me his last name?”

“Why?”

“He might be the one I was looking for.”

“I don’t see how.”

Decker held up his phone. “I can have the FBI here in five minutes. And they’ll take every file in this place.” He eyed the woman steadily. “Are you an American citizen?”

She blanched. “No. But I have papers.”

“I’m sure they’re in perfect order. At least I hope they are. The FBI will check, of course. They check everything. Twice.”

The woman slowly put a pack of cigarettes in the appropriate slot and made a check on her inventory sheet. He could tell she was stalling as she thought about how to respond to this.

“I might…I mean, my work visa might be a little overdue.”

“That’s unfortunate. With the government in gridlock over immigration reform, it’s a touchy subject. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

“And if I let you see Billy’s file?”

Decker put his phone away. “That might change things.”

The woman went into the back office and came out a minute later with a file. “You can have this. I made a copy.”

Decker went to the door, locked it, and turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED.

“What are you doing?” the woman cried out.

Decker pulled out his phone again. “The FBI will be here in a few minutes. I’m afraid this store will be closed for quite a while.”

“But I gave you the file.”

“And I thank you for that. But one has nothing to do with the other.”

“But what will the FBI do here?”

“They’ll be looking for any trace of Billy. And don’t worry. They won’t care about your immigration status.”

“But why is Billy so important? He just mops floors.”

“He’s important principally because he’s not Billy. His name is Belinda.”

* * *