Page 51 of Den of Iniquity

“You’re welcome,” Matt said. Then, after a moment he added, “I didn’t really know the guy personally—Spaulding, I mean. Supposedly he’d just gotten out of prison after serving time for something or other. I’ve been told he’d had quite the reputation around here for being a bully back when he was younger, but when I saw him in the bar, he didn’t seem to be causing trouble or doing anything out of line, so maybe the time he spent in the slammer did him some good. Maybe he learned his lesson.”

“It’s possible,” I said to Mr. Barr, but inside my head I was muttering,But not bloody likely.

If Jake Spaulding had had a chance to live a little longer, I expect that eventually he would have gone right back to being the same kind of jerk he’d always been. In my experience, most of the time, once a bully, always a bully. That’s usually not something being sent to prison will fix.

Chapter 24

Seattle, Washington

Tuesday to Wednesday, March 3–4, 2020

It was late when I got home Tuesday night, but I was in high spirits. The conversations with Detective Byrd and Matt Barr had made me feel as though I was making enormous forward progress, but it was clear from talking to them and to Detective Sechrest as well that a trip back to Seattle PD’s Evidence unit was definitely in order, and that needed to happen sooner rather than later.

However, my good mood pretty much evaporated once I found a grim-faced Mel glued to the TV set where a newscaster was saying that multiple Covid deaths had been reported at a nursing home in Kirkland, another of Seattle’s Eastside suburbs. I paused long enough to feed Sarah and make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before joining Mel on the sofa.

“You look upset,” I ventured.

“I am upset,” she said. “Very. People are dying of something thatspreads like wildfire and that no one knows how to treat. Schools and restaurants and businesses are going to be shut down, but I can’t close the doors on the department. Public safety still matters, and crime isn’t going to magically go away just because there’s a pandemic in progress. Some of my people may be able to work from home, but most won’t. There are going to be mask mandates. I’ve spent the whole day trying to source masks for the department. It’s been frustrating as hell.”

Believe me, Mel Soames is not a complainer. She’s your basic perpetual optimist, someone who sees solutions where others see only problems. In all the years I’ve known her, those were more negative words than I had ever heard her utter at one time. But I also knew that telling her everything was going to be okay was a sure path to disaster. Either she’d think I was patronizing her or, even worse, “mansplaining.” In this situation, my best course of action was to simply agree with everything she said.

“You’re right,” I said. “It’s going to be tough.”

Turns out, not minimizing the problem was the right strategy. Sarah, sensing something amiss, finished snarfing down her food and then came over to the couch where she laid her massive head on Mel’s lap. Both those things seemed to help snap Mel out of her funk. She switched off the TV. Then, absently petting the dog with one hand and glancing at her watch, she commented, “You’re home late. How was your day?”

It was a long story, and bringing her up-to-date took time.

“With those new case numbers, I’m assuming your next step is to examine the evidence boxes,” she said.

I nodded. “With the pandemic bearing down on us, no telling how long before the Evidence unit will be on lockdown, too. But commuting ninety miles back and forth doesn’t sound like a goodidea. If you can take Sarah to work with you tomorrow, I’ll head back to Seattle. That way, if need be, I can get a hotel room and stay over.”

“I wish we still had the condo,” Mel said wistfully. “I hate to think about your checking into a hotel with lots of other people, travelers especially, when you don’t know where they’ve been. Not only that, according to everything I’ve read and heard, older people are the ones most susceptible to Covid.”

In our marriage, the fifteen-year age difference between Mel and me doesn’t usually rear its ugly head, but it just had. I could have been offended, but in that moment, we both needed to lighten the load, so I went for humor.

“That’s what you get for tying the knot with an old duffer,” I told her. “So here’s the deal. If you’ll take Sarah with you, I’ll head back to Seattle first thing in the morning. If I can get everything I need done in one day, I will, and I promise not to stay over unless it’s absolutely necessary. Fair enough?”

She smiled and nodded. “Fair enough,” she agreed.

Sensing that the tension had left the room, Sarah abandoned Mel’s lap in favor of curling up on her rug.

“How did Kyle fare today?” I asked.

“All right,” Mel said. “When I came home, he was sitting at the island doing homework, although he told me he didn’t think there was much point. He said the teachers are all in a flap about switching over to online learning next week, and they’re all acting weird.”

“Next week?” I echoed. “That soon?”

Mel nodded. “Next Wednesday, the eleventh.”

“So it’s coming for sure.”

“For sure,” she repeated, “and we’re all going to have to do the best we can.”

Knowing I’d need to get an early start the next day, we decided it was time to hit the hay. I let Sarah out for one last walk, then we all headed for the bedroom.

The next morning Kyle, eating breakfast at the kitchen island, was surprised when all three of us—Mel, Sarah, and I—emerged from the bedroom at the same time. I had packed an overnight bag to take along, just in case. The TV set was off, and I, for one, was very grateful about that.

Over coffee we explained the logistics for the day, and Kyle volunteered to help. “Would you like me to come by your office after school and take Sarah for a walk?” he asked.

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