Decker said, “I’m taking myself off this case. Because of your prior involvement with my wife. You’ll be questioned of course, but by someone other than I. If you want to talk to a detective, there are five people assigned to this case.”

Bram nodded, walked over to the kitchen, looked out the small window.

Decker tried again. “Jail’s no place for you, Padre.”

“I’m used to cells.”

“Who are you protecting?”

Bram continued to stare out the window. Decker gave up. The priest said, “Car’s here. Are you going to handcuff me?”

“Yes.”

Bram put his hands behind his back.

Decker said, “I’ll cuff you in front.”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Nothing matters to you, does it?”

Bram spoke to the wall. “Not true. There are a few people in this world who significantly matter to me.”

Starting with my wife, Decker thought. Again, the priest put his arms around his back. This time, Decker cuffed him that way.

23

Along with the other Dees, Oliver made himself comfortable in Decker’s small office. Really comfortable. He put his feet on the desk and said, “Just when I had Shockley nailed, you arrest the priest…which screams setup.”

Decker pushed Oliver’s feet off, sat back in his chair, paged through his notes. “So give me another scenario.”

Martinez loosened his tie. “We just ignore forensic evidence—”

“I’m not ignoring anything,” Oliver said. “I’m just saying that Shockley was involved—”

“Is that clock right?” Gaynor asked out loud.

Decker looked at his wall clock, then his watch. Ten minutes to seven. Another late night. “Yeah, it’s right.”

Gaynor shook his wrist, then laid his arms across his stretched stomach. “My watch must have stopped. I’ve got five-thirty.”

Oliver said, “Anyone want to hear my take?”

“Shoot,” Decker said.

Oliver ran his hand through limp black hair. “First off, the clothes weren’t drenched with enough blood to account for the priest doing the popping. You shoot and stab two victims like that, you’re gonna hit an artery. You hit an artery, you’re gonna get a bath.”

Webster scratched his head, the ubiquitous headphones dangling around the nape of his neck. “So Bram wasn’t the hit man. But he was there.”

Oliver said, “For all we know, he could have come to the scene afterward—”

Webster asked, “Then why would he keep silent if he didn’t do anything?”

Marge took off her gray suit jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. “He’s protecting someone.”

Decker said, “Who?”

“One of his family members, most likely.”

“No, no, no!” Oliver protested. “You’re moving away from Shockley!”

“Maybe the putz didn’t do it,” Marge said.

Oliver said, “Can I play this out for you?”

“Go,” Decker said.

“Okay. Somebody’s been fudging the Curedon data, right?”