Decker nodded absently and surveyed the room once more, imprinting every detail onto his memory cloud, as he liked to refer to it now. When he’d first learned he had perfect recall he’d named it his “hard drive,” but times changed and he had to change with them.
His hyperthymesia was an amazing tool for a detective, but it was also overwhelming at times. He had been told that there were fewer than a hundred people in the world who had been diagnosed with the condition, and Decker would have preferred not to have been one of them.
Most people with hyperthymesia concentrated their recall on personal events, memories from the past, mostly autobiographical in nature. Because of that, Decker had learned that they often tended to live in the past as well because the stream of recollections was unrelenting. While Decker certainly had some of that, too, his memory recall was different. Pretty much everything he heard or saw or read in the present was permanently encoded in his mind and could be pulled out at will.
He turned to Jacobs. “TOD on the judge?”
“Approximately the same range as Draymont. Midnight to two a.m. I might be able to get a little tighter on the parameters, but that time box is looking pretty solid.”
He handed her his business card. “Let me know about Draymont’s gun and the possible sexual assault.”
“All right.”
He looked at Andrews. “We told the guard at the entrance gate to get us the list of people who came through over the last twenty-four hours. He was going to bring it here.”
“I had planned to do that,” said Andrews.
“Good, we’re operating on the same wavelength. While we’re waiting for him, let’s go talk to Mrs. Kline.”
He walked out of the room.
Andrews whirled on White. “How long have you and Decker been partners?”
White checked her watch. “Oh, about six hours.”
Chapter 8
Doris Kline ushered them into her home after they knocked, and led them to the rear lanai. She was in her late fifties with permed hair and too much makeup, at least to Decker’s mind.
But what the hell do I know?
Kline had on a pair of white slacks and an orange shirt with the sleeves half rolled up, revealing taut, tanned forearms, mottled over with coppery sunspots. She was skinny for her five-foot-eight height, and the woman was a smoker, which might have been a factor in her thinness. A pack of Camels and a purple Zippo lighter sat on the table on the screened-in lanai, which overlooked the backyard. Beyond that were some slender palm trees and compact shrubbery. A pool was situated in front of them. From the smell it was apparently filled with saltwater. Through the screens enclosing the space, Decker noted a well-trod path down to the beach, with the dull gray stretch of the Gulf just beyond that. Seagulls swooped and dove across the clear sky looking for things no human could see.
The house was smaller than Julia Cummins’s place and hadn’t been kept up as well. The stucco was damaged in several areas, and the outdoor heat pumps heavily rusted from the heavy salt air had drawn Decker’s notice. The lawn and landscaping hadn’t seen much attention, either. He didn’t know if that was simply the result of indifference or a lighter wallet than the judge had had.
“Were you the only one in your house last night?” asked Decker.
Kline blew smoke from her nose and nodded as she reached for a glass of what looked like orange juice, but Decker smelled the alcohol in it.
“I was. I’m divorced, my kids grown and off. I don’t go out much because my ex left me with lots of bills and not enough alimony. He had the better lawyer, unfortunately.”
“Can you take us through this morning?” asked White, her eyes widening, apparently at the woman so casually revealing this personal info.
“I came out here around nine, saw the rear door was open, and that seemed strange. At that hour of the morning Julia had usually long since left for court, and she really never used that door. She just went right from the house to the garage.”
“Did you know her well?” asked Decker.
“We were neighbors and good friends for years.”
“I’m sure you’re upset about what happened,” interjected White.
Kline tapped ash into a crystal bowl, her lips firmly set. “I’m not a crier. But I’m very distraught that Julia is dead. I cared for her. A lot. We were good friends. We would vent to each other. But I’ve seen a ton of shit in my life. The best defense is just to keep it at arm’s length, at least that’s my take.”
“So, you investigated and found the body of the man in the study?” said Decker.
“Scared the crap out of me. I ran right out and called the police. They were here in maybe three minutes. There’s a station not that far from here.”
“You knew the dead man?” said White.
“I’d seen him at Julia’s. I never spoke with him.”
“Did the judge discuss with you why she needed security?”
“Not really, no. I guess all judges get threats and stuff. Hell, these days, who doesn’t? Look at social media. I could post something about saving orphans and I’d be attacked as a sex-trafficking pedophile. People are such animals online.”
“But did she actually say it was because she had received threats that she had the bodyguard?” asked Decker.
“No, I don’t believe she did. I guess I just assumed.”
“Last night, did you hear or see anything?” asked White. “Say between midnight and two, or even before or after that? Flash of headlights turning into the drive next door? Gunshot? Screams or raised voices? Sounds of a fight?”
She shook her head and sharply cleared her throat. “I use a CPAP machine at night, and I take an Ambien. I wasn’t going to hear anything.”
“Do you have an alarm system?” asked Decker.
“Oh sure. But I don’t usually turn it on.”
“Why not?” asked White curiously.
“Well, we have a gate and twenty-four-hour security.”
Decker said, “So did the judge. Plus her own private bodyguard. Clearly wasn’t enough.”
Kline looked less sure of herself and tapped ash into the bowl. “I guess I see your point.”
“How about the neighbor on the other side of the judge?” asked Decker.
“The Perlmans? They’re in New York. They left last week and will be back tomorrow.”
“They knew Cummins?” asked Andrews.
“Sure, we were all friends. Maya, that’s Mrs. Perlman, was a retired lawyer, so she and Julia had that connection. Trevor is her husband; it’s her second marriage. Oh and I think they were the ones who told Julia about the protection service she ended up using.”
“Why was that?” asked White.
“I’m not entirely sure, but I think the Perlmans had used them in the past. I don’t know why. You’d have to ask them.”
Decker and White exchanged a glance.
“Do you know the judge’s ex and their son, Tyler?” asked Decker.
“Yes. Barry and Tyler Davidson. Cummins was Julia’s maiden name. She kept it after they were married. Saved her some paperwork after the divorce since she didn’t have to change it back. They all lived next door until the breakup. Barry still lives nearby. When I was married, we would all go out together. After our divorces Julia and I would still go out, or else have a girls night in. We’d either cook, or do takeout with white wine and Hallmark movies. Although lately she seemed a bit different.”