“Yeah, sorry about rousting you out of bed so early, but I’d like your help with something.”
Derek eyed him, warily I thought.
“You were with the Langleys until shortly before they left, right?”
Derek nodded very slowly, like he had to think about the answer. The question seemed pretty straightforward to me.
“That was around eight?”
Derek nodded again.
“So that means you’re the last person who may have seen the Langleys alive, unless they stopped for gas or something after they headed off, but you’re also the last person to see their place, the inside of their house, before they got killed.”
Derek swallowed. “I guess,” he said.
“So what I’d like you to do is, the reason I came by is, I’d like you to come over to the Langley house with me, see if anything looks out of the ordinary.”
Ellen took in a sharp breath. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “You can’t be thinking of dragging our son through that house, where all those. . things happened.” I could almost imagine her saying to herself,
Barry looked unapologetic, even though he said he was sorry. “I need Derek’s help. He’s a very important part of this investigation, Ellen. He might see something out of the ordinary. Something missing. Maybe a painting, or-”
“A painting?” Ellen said. “You think the Langleys were killed because someone wanted to steal a painting?” She looked at me, supposedly the art expert. “Did the Langleys have valuable art?”
“Not that I know of,” I said.
“It’s just a for instance,” Barry said, trying not to sound impatient. “I don’t know that they have any expensive paintings at all. Maybe someone came into the house, I don’t know, to steal Mrs. Langley’s jewelry or-”
“What on earth would Derek know about Donna’s jewelry?” Ellen said. “Why would you even think-”
“Ellen,” I said.
“-he’d know anything about that?”
“Again,” Barry said, still very patiently, but it seemed to be a strain, “it was just an example. There might have been things in full view in the house, things I don’t know about, but Derek here might notice if they were gone. That’s all I’m talking about.”
“Well,” Ellen said, “I absolutely forbid it. There’s no way-”
“I’ll do it,” Derek said.
“That’s great,” Barry said.
“No you won’t,” Ellen said. “You’re not going over there.”
“I’ll do it,” Derek said again, still looking at Barry. “If you need me to do it, I’ll do it.”
Ellen’s mouth opened. She was ready to voice her objections again, then stopped. Derek said to her, “It’s okay, Mom. If there’s anything I can do to help catch whoever killed Adam, I want to do it.”
Barry reached his hand out to Derek to shake it. Derek, awkwardly, extended his in return and they shook. “Good man,” Barry said. “You want some breakfast first? That’s okay. Get something in your stomach. I don’t mind waiting. Your mom’s French toast, it’s pretty goddamn amazing. Although, I don’t know, maybe it’s better to go over on an empty stomach, you know what I’m saying? Just a bit of advice from a guy who’s been there.”
Ellen was giving me an imploring look, indicating that she wanted me to ask Barry something. I took a shot at what it must be. “Barry,” I said, “you mind if I come along with Derek?”
I could see the relief in Ellen’s face. I’d guessed right. Barry said, “Sure, that would be fine, Jim. That’s a real good idea.”
Then no one said anything for a couple of seconds, until Derek said, “Well?”
As the three of us headed out the door, me trailing behind Barry and Derek, Ellen touched my arm to hold me back and whispered, “I’m sorry. I can’t go over there. I just, I can’t do it.”
“I understand.”
“Be there for him.”
I touched her on the shoulder and went out the door, taking a few steps at a gallop to catch up.
“So you’re working for your dad for the summer?” Barry was saying.
“Yeah,” Derek said. And I thought,
“Pretty hot week to be doing yard work, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s been kinda brutal,” Derek said. “We had that rain early in the week, gave us a bit of a break, although then we got behind, you know?”
“I hear ya,” Barry said, like he and my son were suddenly best friends. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but that gave me an uncomfortable feeling.
The conversation died out as we neared the Langley house. I felt that I was seeing the place for the first time. There wasn’t anything structurally different about it from a week or a month ago, aside from the decorative yellow police tape surrounding it, but now it had this ominous presence. I wondered, momentarily, what would happen to the house, now that the Langleys were all dead. Relatives would have to come in, sell the place. I’d hate to be the real estate agent brought in to find a buyer for a house where three people had been slain.
We were coming up to the back of the house, but Barry said, “We’ll be going in around the front. Still a bit of a mess around the back door there.”
My son was very quiet. But then, “They’re, like, they aren’t still there, are they?”
Barry smiled. “No. The bodies have been removed, Derek.”
Derek nodded quickly, as if to suggest he knew that, he was just kidding, as if anyone was in the mood for jokes.
We came around the front of the house, where there was a patrol car in addition to Barry’s unmarked cruiser, an officer parked behind the wheel. Barry sidled over, talked to the cop through the open window, said we were all going in for a tour. Barry hardly had to ask the guy for permission, but he was being extremely polite today.
“Okay,” he said, leading the way to the front door. “Let’s go in.”
As we entered the house he said, “Don’t touch anything.” He held the door for us. “In fact, you might want to put your hands in your pockets just to be sure.”
We complied. Derek went in ahead of me, and once the three of us were just inside the door, we all stopped, like we were on some sort of historic house tour and Barry was our guide.
It didn’t take long for us to realize we weren’t on that kind of tour.
The carpet immediately in front of us, and at the base of the stairs, was nearly black with blood. And even though the bodies of the Langleys had been removed, the stench in the house took our breath away. A hand came out of my pocket and went instinctively to my mouth.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Barry said as I slipped my hand back into my pocket.
I took a look at Derek to see how he was coping. Trying to breathe through his mouth, eyes darting around. I could make out his fists clenching in the front pockets of his jean shorts.
“Right here,” Barry said, pointing to the blood closest to us, “is where Albert Langley died, where his body was found. We think he went to the door, that one or more persons had knocked on it and he was shot very shortly after opening the door. And then over here,” he said, guiding us around the blood and over toward the stairs, “was where Donna Langley’s body was discovered.” There seemed as much blood there as by the front door. “She must have come downstairs when she heard the commotion, and that’s where it happened.”
“Dear God,” I said, and took another look at my son, who was stone-faced. Hesitantly, I said, “And Adam?”
“Down the end of the hall here, at the bottom of a half flight of stairs, by the back door.”
Before we could proceed any further into the house, Barry wanted us to slip on some booties in a bid not to contaminate the crime scene any further. He pulled three pairs of them from his pocket, and we all took a moment to get them on. This, of course, necessitated taking our hands out of our pockets, and Derek and I leaned against each other, taking turns, to slip them over our shoes. They were crinkly, a bit like paper, but much stronger.
Once that was done, Barry motioned for us to follow him along the hallway, which we both walked down as
