As Davidson had intimated, Tyler’s room looked like a typical teenage boy’s space. Movie, music, and sports posters were on the walls. The place was sloppy and cluttered with piles of dirty clothes, athletic equipment, dumbbells, a football helmet and shoulder pads, books, and an iPad lying on the floor. There was an Xbox and a set of VR goggles. There was also a poster of someone named Kaia Gerber in a bikini. And another poster was of a woman called Olivia Rodrigo. Decker didn’t know who either of these beautiful young women were, but he was pretty sure most seventeen-year-old males would recognize them.
And his father was right — this place couldn’t be more different from his room at his mom’s.
He picked up a Black’s Law Dictionary from the desk, flicked through the pages, and found what he thought he might. Then he picked up a book on psychological disorders that had been checked out of the local library. Some pages were marked with Post-it notes. He read through them. He dropped the book and gazed out the window at the Gulf.
Normally, solving a case brought a rush of euphoria.
Not this time.
He left the bedroom and poked his head into the laundry room, where’d he spoken with Tyler previously and the young man had broken down in tears over the loss of his mother. He opened the washing machine and looked inside.
Last night his memory superpower had come back just in the nick of time. Decker had taken everything that he had seen and heard during the course of this investigation and laid it next to everything else. Layer after layer of conversations, seemingly innocent remarks, certain observations, and assorted other evidence had been plucked from his personal cloud and analyzed with one another. And the truth had come out of all that with startling clarity.
It really all was in the smallest details. The ones that seemingly had no importance, right up until the moment they became the only things of importance. People lie really well on the big stuff. But no one can lie well enough to take care of the small inconsistencies.
He rejoined White and Davidson in the kitchen, where she was pouring out more coffee and Davidson was making some eggs and toast. “Don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
“Knock yourself out,” said Decker.
They sat down and White watched Davidson eat while Decker stared down at his coffee cup.
Davidson said, “So, I heard something about Trevor Perlman being behind all this? What the hell is that all about? He was a good friend and he adored Julia.”
“He had some people killed, including the man and woman found at your ex-wife’s home, but he didn’t have Julia killed,” said Decker.
Davidson slowly put down his fork. “Wait a minute, how is that possible? Whoever killed them also killed Julia.”
“Decker has a theory that there were two different killers,” said White.
Davidson gazed at Decker in disbelief. “Two killers who killed two different people in the same place at the same time? What, are you on drugs?”
“It’s what happened,” said Decker.
“Was it Dennis Langley then? Did that son of a bitch do it?”
“Finish your meal and then we’ll talk.”
Shooting them curious glances, Davidson continued eating.
When he was done, Decker said, “Follow me.”
Chapter 94
Decker led them not to Tyler’s room but to Davidson’s office.
Decker closed the door behind them, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone.
“The cops forgot to give you this. Remember they took your phone and computer when they arrested you.”
“Yeah, I remember,” groused Davidson. “And I need it all back. I conduct my business on that computer.” He reached out for his phone but Decker didn’t hand it over.
“What gives?” said Davidson. He glanced at White. “What games are you two playing?”
She said, “We talked to your neighbor downstairs, the one who gave you the alibi when he got back into town.”
“Right. Lou Perry. I wish he hadn’t gone out of the country. I never would have been arrested.”
Decker pointed to the set of French doors leading outside. “He was out on his balcony watching some news from overseas on his iPad.”
“So I understand.”
“He said he told you earlier in the day he was going to be out there smoking a cigar, having some scotch. He invited you to join him and maybe play some cards. He’d been in Asia recently and his body clock was still in that time zone. And he knew you were usually up late. But you had meetings.”
“Right again. So?”
“So you knew he’d be out there that night.”
“Okay. So what?”
“He said he called up to you around ten thirty. Heard you outside.”
“I was out on my balcony getting ready for my first Zoom at midnight. I called back to him.”
“Perry also said he heard you off and on from around eleven thirty until he went inside and went to bed close to three. He remembered seeing the times on his iPad.”
“Which is why he knew I couldn’t have been at Julia’s during the time she was killed. Nobody can be in two places at the same time.”
“Yeah, they sort of can.”
“What?”
“A friend of Tyler’s said you record your practice sessions.”
“That’s right.”
Decker held up the phone. “You recorded your ‘Hong Kong practice session’ from that night on a voice memo on your phone.”
“So? I do that a lot.”
“We never had much reason to look at the memo until Lou Perry’s alibi came up, and a few possibilities occurred to me. We played the recording for Perry. He said it was pretty much verbatim what he heard from you that night between one and nearly two.”
“Of course it was. I was getting ready for my second Zoom with the client in Hong Kong then.”
“Not between one and two o’clock you weren’t.” Decker held up the phone again. “Voice memos are time stamped. You recorded your Hong Kong practice session starting at ten fifty, which is shortly after Tyler went to bed, and you finished it at five minutes before midnight.”
“Then how the hell did Perry hear it at one o’clock?”
In answer Decker opened the French doors, went out on the balcony, and set the phone on the top of the waist-high wall that encircled the balcony. “You put it here, turned the volume all the way up, hit play, and left. That made Perry think you were up here the whole time. You used Tyler’s electric bike parked in the foyer. You took it down the back stairs, most likely. On the bike using the motor you could cover the two miles in a few minutes. You went to Julia’s house. You killed her. And then you came back here in plenty of time to clean up and do your next meeting at two.”
“That is crazy.”
“You recorded the Zoom videos, Barry. We watched them. You had on a different shirt between the first and second ones. Why was that?”
“I... I spilled something on my shirt.”
“The geolocator on your phone shows it never left here that night.”
“Because I never left here that night. Look, this is all bullshit. A good lawyer would make mincemeat out of it. You think I murdered my wife and came back here and did a Zoom!”
“You used the word ‘butchered’ before. How did you know that? Because you were the one who did it.”
“You’re nuts!”
“Perry told us he also called up to you around one twenty. But you didn’t answer him.”
“I didn’t hear him, obviously. I was focused on practicing for my next Zoom.”
“No you weren’t. You were probably still at Julia’s. You finished with her, planted your evidence, and rode back here. At that time of night no one would be in the elevator or stairwell to see you coming back in with the bike and the bloody clothes. You cleaned up, changed your clothes, threw the bloody ones in the washing machine, and got ready for your next Zoom. Later, you showered to get the rest of the crap off you.”