Memory Man

There was a sudden caginess in the voice that slightly surprised Decker. He had interviewed many prisoners, many accused. Many were dumb as dirt and had committed crimes for reasons stupider than they were. But some were a lot smarter than folks gave them credit for. And maybe Leopold was one of those.

“You need a defense. You’ve confessed to three murders.”

“I’m guilty. I done it.”

“You still need legal representation.”

“Why?”

“It’s just how the legal system works. So I need to know the facts.”

“They’re going to execute me.” The tone was of a child confessing his expected punishment. The cagey prisoner had transformed into a little boy. Decker wondered if it were the drugs doing this to him, making a pinball game out of his thought process.

“Is that what you want?”

“Not up to me.”

“You’re right. It’s largely up to a judge and a jury. But you still have input. So, you want to tell me what happened?”

Decker checked his watch. Four minutes had passed. And at any moment someone might walk by who knew him. He turned so that his back was to the cell door.

“I killed them,” said Leopold simply. He was staring dead at Decker now, and Decker was looking for any hint of recognition in the other man’s eyes. If he saw it, what would he do? Strangle the man like he might have done to his daughter?

Leopold started moving his hands again. He looked like a conductor leading an orchestra that didn’t exist. Decker watched for a few moments, then refocused.

“And why did you do that?”

“Dude pissed me off.”

“What dude?”

“The dude. Dude that lived there.”

“How he’d piss you off?”

“Just pissed me off.”

“But how?”

“Didn’t show me no respect.”

“You worked there? You were a customer there? At the 7-Eleven on DeSalle?”

Leopold ignored this and said, “Well, I got him, didn’t I?”

“How’d you do that?”

“Killed his family.”

“No, I mean how did you know where he lived?”

“Followed him.”

“How?”

Now there came a caution in the man’s eyes that Decker had not seen before.

“I don’t need to tell you shit. You a cop? Trying to trick me?”

“You confessed, Mr. Leopold. There’s nothing left to trick. Do you see that?”

Leopold blinked and rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, I guess I see that.”

“And, no, I’m not a cop. So you followed him. How?”

“What do you mean, how?”

“Car, foot, bike?”

“Ain’t got no damn bike.”

“So a car?”

“If I ain’t got a bike, I ain’t got no car.”

“So on foot, then?”

Leopold nodded slowly and then studied Decker closely, perhaps to see his reaction to this.

Decker wrote something down on his pad. He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow even though it was cold in the basement cell. If he was discovered here, he could go to jail. And he didn’t actually like talking to people, so the briefer the better. But he had to do this. This might be his only chance.

“So you found out where this ‘dude’ lived and then you planned to kill his family. But you waited a month or so. Why?”

“Who said I waited a month?”

“That’s what you told the police.”

Leopold hunkered back down, the rat hiding among the crevices. Only there was no place to hide in here.

“Okay, that’s right. I had to plan it out. Watch the place, see what the lay of the land was, so to speak.”

Decker glanced down at the tattoo. “When were you in the Navy?”

Leopold’s eyes flashed for just a second. “Who says I was?”

Decker pointed at the tat. “Two dolphins. Sailors often have those. You have it positioned so it won’t show from under your uniform sleeve, per regulations.”

Leopold looked down at the tat as though it had betrayed him.

“I’m not in the Navy.”

“So you got the lay of the land and then went there that night. Take me through it.”

Decker glanced over his shoulder at a sound. But it was only the jailer walking down the corridor. He rubbed another bead of sweat off his cheek.

“Take you through it?” parroted Leopold.

“From the moment you got there to the moment you left. Let’s start with how you got there.”

“Walked.”

“House address?”

Leopold hesitated. “It was a two-story, yellow siding, carport on the side.”

“How’d you get in?”

“Side screen door into the kitchen.”

“Remember any details of the room?”

“It was a damn kitchen, man. Stove, dishwasher, table, and chairs.”

“Remember the color of the walls?”

“No.”

Decker glanced at his watch again. He had to speed this up, and his anxiety at being here was growing by the second.

“Who’d you kill first?”

“The dude. Thought it was the guy that dissed me. But I guess it wasn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Pictures in the paper. After.”

“Go on.”

“He was at the kitchen table. Been drinking.”

“How do you know that?”

Leopold looked up, obviously irritated. “Why you keep me asking me that?”

“Because the cops will. The court will. The jury will want to know these things.”

“Hell, I confessed.”

“They can still try you.”

Leopold looked shocked by this. “Why?”

“To make themselves look good. How do you know he’d been drinking?”

“Beer bottles on the table.”

“How’d you kill him? He was a lot bigger than you.”

“He was drunk. I took my knife and cut him, right here.” He pointed at his neck.

“He was found in the adjoining room.”