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“They probably had a full-time outdoor staff way back when. Maybe a flower and kitchen garden.”
Decker tried the tap and water cameout.
“Really smells in here,” said Jamison. “And look, there are holes in the wall here too. I bet there are whole colonies of critters living inside there.”
Decker opened some drawers. “And you have rotting soil and mulch and maybe decaying plants, plus mold and mildew collected over the decades. Not a nice mixture, but—”
He stopped talking when he opened what lookedto be a closet door and peered inside.
“Check this out.”
Inside the space was a pillow, a thin rolled-up mattress, a blanket, and a small duffel.
Jamison peered over his shoulder. “Do you think someone was staying here?”
“Maybe.” Decker pulled out the duffel, set it on the counter, and opened it. Inside were a couple of threadbare shirts, a dirty pair ofmen’s dungarees, sneakers, and a rolled-up canvas fanny pack.
When Decker unrolled it, Jamison said, “Damn.”
They looked down at a trio of syringes, three needles with corks on the tips, a few vials of liquid, a spoon, a crack pipe, a length of elasticized rubber, some plastic baggies containing white powder, a Bic lighter, four joints, and a clasp knife.
“Basically,your classic druggie’s survival pack,” said Decker.
“You think this belongs to Baron?”
Decker held up the pants to his legs.
“Baron is about two inches shorter than me. These pants are for a guy under six feet, so no, I don’t think so.”
“Some squatter, then?”
“That’s more likely.”
“Do you think Baron knows about it?”
Deckerstared out the window at the main house. “I don’t know. There’s a direct sightline from here to there. Unless whoever it was came and went at night.”
“Well, they probably would if they were here illegally.”
“But why pick this place when we’ve been told that there are lots of emptyhomesin Baronville where people squat? Why come all the way up here to a crappy old potting shed?It’s not like you could come and go so easily. And if the guy is squatting, it’s not like he can drive a car right up here and not expect to be seen. He can get water from the tap, but I don’t see any food around. How does he eat? And there’s no bathroom here.”
Jamison said, “So maybe Barondoesknow about it. Maybe he feeds him and lets him use the facilities in the house.”
“So he’s feeding a druggie and allowing the guy to stay in the old potting shed. Why?”
“Baron is sort of down and out too. Maybe he feels sorry for the guy.”
Decker shook his head. “I could better understand that if Baron were rolling in dough, which he’s not. And apparently everybody in town hates him.”
“Maybe this guy isn’t from Baronville.”
“If so, howdid he come to be here? You wouldn’t look at this place from a distance and be able to see that it was run-down. And how could he know only one person lived here? Or that there were outbuildings where he could stay?”
“He might have talked to some people in Baronville and learned all that.”
“I wonder where this guy is now?” He looked at the drugs and the accompanying paraphernalia.“And why leave this here? Most druggies I ran into when I was a cop would never leave their stash behind.”
He picked up one of the plastic baggies. “Nickel bag of coke. About a gram’s worth. These vials are probably heroin. Three to four bucks a pop in a metro area. Maybe more in a place like this. The elastic band is used to pulse the vein for the injection site. The lighter and thespoon are to make crack from the cocaine. Water and a pinch of baking soda. You stir off the residue, then you smoke the liquid coke in the pipe.” He looked closely at the three syringes. “Never seen three needles for one druggie, though.”
