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Chapter 21
YOU’RE UP LATE,young fella. Or else up early.”
As Decker approached the house with the light on, he saw an old man sitting on the covered porch in his wheelchair. He also noted the wooden ramp leading up to the porch.
The wood-shingled house was small and in disrepair. The sole tree out front was full of deadleaves. The small lawn had gone to weeds. Everything had a wasted look to it, as though it were all just waiting to die.
Parked in the carport next to the house was an old passenger van.
Decker stopped in front of the house. “So are you.”
The man was wrinkled and sunken in the wheelchair. His head was bald and covered with brown splotches from sun damage. He worewire-rimmed spectacles. He shrugged. “Get to my age, what’s time matter?” He tugged his sweater more tightly around him and shivered slightly. Though it was humid with the rain, he had a blanket over his legs.
The man must have noticed that Decker was looking at the blanket.
“Summer, winter, hell, it don’t matter. Still get the chills. Docs say it’s a circulation problem. Isay it’s my pipes getting clogged with living too long. See, that’s a reason to not be around too many years. Everything falls apart.”
“So you live here?”
“What’s it look like?”
“You’re Fred Ross?”
“Who wants to know?” Ross snapped.
“Me. I’m Amos Decker.”
“Amos? Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Reminds me of that show,Amos ’nAndy? Long time ago. Hell, everything’s a long time ago. Goes with being old. I’m eighty-five. Most days I feel like I’m a hundred and eighty-five. Some days I wake up and wonder who the hell I am. How’d that old man get in my body? It ain’t no fun.”
Decker drew closer to the porch. The rain had ceased, so he lowered his umbrella. “Were you here two nights ago, Mr. Ross?”
Lassiter had said that Ross had probably not been home, but Decker wanted to hear this for himself.
Ross looked down the street. “You mean when whatever happened there happened?”
“Yeah.”
“You a cop?”
“Yeah.”
“Saw them go in earlier,” Ross said, pointing down the street. “Looked like Feds to me.”
“How do you know that?”
“I watchTV.”
“So, were you here that night?”
Ross shook his head. “Hospital. Had a breathing problem. I’m okay now. I get lots of breathing problems. Folks at the emergency room know me on a first-name basis. Ain’t nothing to be proud of, I can tell you that. If you’re old and rich, that’s one thing. But old and poor, I don’t recommend it, Amos.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.Have the police been by to see you?”
“No. I just got back today, see. Or yesterday now, I guess.”
“You live alone?”
Ross nodded. “The missus died, oh, nearly twenty years ago now. Smoking. Don’t never smoke, Amos, ’less you want to die in godawful agony.”
