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CHAPTER 3

SO NOW I have to babysit a spoiled brat!”

“Ahem. Pot … kettle.”

“Spoiled I will agree to, but you can’t be a brat if you’ve been shot in the line of duty. That is just not right.”

“She worked five years with Philadelphia PD. She was in GTA as a detective.”

“GTA Philadelphia? As in your daughter?”

“The very same city. Cindy was her detective sergeant.”

“Wow. Did you tell her?”

“Baccus? Of course not. But I will call up Cindy after I get the death notification done. I just wanted to give you a heads-up about Baccus. She should be with you shortly.”

“Did she tell you why she quit Philadelphia PD?”

“Sexual harassment.”

“Ah, c’mon! You can’t be serious!”

“She’s beautiful, Harvard. I can completely believe it, but I’ll ask Cindy about it. At least, in Hamilton, no one is going to mess with the chief’s daughter.”

“But it does show a certain lack of resilience.”

“Yes, it does. She’s on her way. Be nice, Harvard. We need her on the team to get into Hamilton’s files.”

“If I’m too nice, then she’ll think I’m coming on to her.”

“Hmm, a valid point,” Decker admitted. “You’re right. Don’t be nice. Just be your usual obnoxious self.”

JENNIFER NEIL IDENTIFIED her son, Brady, from one of the photographs taken by the police photographer, saving her the agony of coming down and seeing the body in person. She was five foot two and thin as a reed. A little thing with a weathered face, making her look older than her forty-nine years. Her thin lips could have passed for another crease in her wrinkled face. Blue wet eyes were rimmed in red. She wore baggy jeans and a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt with a concert tour dated twenty years ago.

The woman looked utterly lost.

“Do you have someone I can call to be with you?” When she didn’t answer, Decker said, “A relative or friend?”

Slowly she shook her head. “When can I see him?”

“You don’t have to see him, Mrs. Neil. It’s best to remember him as he was.” She didn’t speak. “Are you sure there’s no one I can call?”

“No husband, if that’s what you mean.”

“Do you have other children?”

Her lip quivered. “A daughter. We don’t talk.” A pause. “I suppose I should call her.”

“I can do that for you if you want me to.”

She nodded.

“What’s her name?”

“Brandy.”

Decker thought, Brandy and Brady. Or maybe it was Brady and Brandy. “How old is she?”

“Thirty.”

Brandy and Brady. Jennifer had been just nineteen when she had her first child. “Do you have a phone number?”

“Gotta look it up. I don’t know if it’s current or not.” She left the living room. It was a small house, neat and clean but unadorned. The faux-leather furniture matched, the end tables were dusted, and the brown carpet was vacuumed though thin in some parts and stained in others. A moment later, Jennifer came back with a slip of paper and a number. Decker pocketed the paper and took out his notebook. “I know this is a horrible time to ask you questions, but it would be helpful if I knew a little bit about Brady.”

She said nothing. Just wiped her eyes.

“Brady was twenty-six?”

“Yes.”

“Did he live with you?”

“Yes.”

“Did Brady work or go to school?”

“Both.”

“Where is work and where is school?”

“He worked at Bigstore in the electronics department.”

“He’s good with computers?”

“No idea.”

Her apathy took Decker aback. “No idea?”

“No. He was secretive about his life.”

“Okay. Secretive as in …”

“We just didn’t talk about anything personal. Truth be told, we hardly talked at all. He’s a single male in his twenties. We don’t have anything in common.”

“Got it. Do you know how long he worked at Bigstore?”

“About a couple of years. He must have gotten a promotion because Brady always had money.”

“He had money?”

“Always.”

“What kind of money are we talking about?”

“He had a car and all the gadgets—y’know, the Xbox and the iPhones and that kind of stuff. It kinda pissed me off that he had money for that shit and never offered to help out with the food and rent until I asked him for it.”

Store managers didn’t make that kind of expendable money. The kid was probably dealing, and something stronger than weed. Opiates were an issue upstate. He said, “Did he give you money when you asked?”

“Couple of hundred here and there.”

“And he lived with you even though he had money?”

“Maybe that’s why he had money. Anyway, I never bothered him and he never bothered me. He lived in the basement. It’s a big basement with two rooms and a bathroom. If he ever got his own place, I was gonna rent it out.” She bit her lip and wiped her eyes. “Guess that’s not a problem now.”

“How did he behave with you?” When Jennifer looked confused, Decker said, “Was he rude or apathetic or physical—”

“No, he never got physical with me even when he was out of control.”

“Out of control?”

“Typical teenage stuff—drinking, smoking marijuana, not going to school, not coming home at night. He still goes out at night on occasion, but in the morning, he’s sober enough to go to work.”

“And you said he’s also in school?”

“Night school. That’s what he told me. Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. The kid used to lie for the hell of it. Shades of his father.”

“Did Brady ever have problems with the law?”

“Not that I know of.” She looked at him. “Can’t you look that up?”

“I did. No record as an adult, but juvenile records are sealed.”

“He used to be truant. Couple of times, cops brought him back home. But then he dropped out of high school so truancy wasn’t a problem. He went through some low-paying jobs—fast-food counter, things like that—until he got a job at Bigstore. Like I said, it must pay well, because he has spare money.”

Decker thought about Brady, working in the electronics department. He could also have been involved in warehouse theft. Working for a bigger ring and it caught up with him? Both sidelines—dealing and theft—were dangerous enough to explain his corpse.

“And you don’t know where he went to college?”

She continued talking. “A year ago, he said he was taking some classes at community college. Like I said, don’t know if that was true or not.”

“Do you know if his money may have come from something other than a job?”

“Wouldn’t know that, either. You mean like drug dealing?”

“Do you think he was dealing drugs?”

“I don’t know, Detective. When are you going to release the body?”

“I’ll call you as soon as I know.” Decker waited a beat. “Do you know of anyone who’d want to hurt Brady or held a grudge against him?”

“No.” A quick response. “Is that all?”

“I’d like to take a look at his basement room, Mrs. Neil. Would that be okay?”

“I don’t have the key.”

“Can I bust open the lock?”

Her eyes started to water. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” She was quiet. Decker said, “Mrs. Neil, would you know the names of any of Brady’s friends?”

“No. The basement has a private entrance. He came and went as he pleased. I know that occasionally he had people down there. I could hear voices. But that’s all I know.”

“Male? Female?”

“Mostly male, but a woman now and then.”

Decker mentioned the names of the thugs who were probably responsible for the mailbox vandalism. “Any of those names ring a bell?”

Jennifer shook her head no.

“How about friends from when he was a teenager?”

She gave the question some consideration. “You might try Patrick Markham or maybe Brett Baderhoff. Those are the only two I can think of. You also can try his sister. I’m not on speaking terms with her. But that don’t mean that the two of them didn’t talk.”

HE NEEDED A pair of bolt cutters to break open the padlock. Once Decker was inside, he wondered why all the secrecy. It was an ordinary living area, only much neater than he had expected from a young adult living at home.

The space was divided into a small living room with a kitchenette. It had a two-burner cooktop and an apartment fridge. No oven. Brady had a sofa, a couple of big chairs, and a big-screen TV. Jennifer was right. He had a massive game console set. No photographs of himself or anyone else. Off the living area was a shower, toilet, and sink.

The bedroom was taken up by a queen bed. It had two doors, one from the living area and the other that emptied into a one-car garage that also held a washer/dryer. The sole vehicle inside was a maroon Ford Focus that was around five years old. Brady may have owned the car, and that may have put him a step ahead of his mother, but it wasn’t exactly a showpiece.

Decker went back inside and began his search in earnest. He checked drawers and cabinets. He looked inside the pillows’ cases and pockets. He peered under the mattress and did find a half-dozen photographs of a much younger Brady with a girl. He looked around fifteen, the girl a few years older. The boy had dark brown hair and intense dark brown eyes. The girl was a blonde with blue eyes. The boy’s stare pierced through even though the couple was mugging for the camera.

The inspection took about thirty minutes because Brady kept a spare apartment. He wasn’t much of a drinker—a couple of six-packs in the fridge. And not much of a doper except for a dime bag of weed. No hidden pills. No hidden powders and no drug paraphernalia. There were no closets brimming with electronics and no stash of phones. If he was involved in illegal activity, he was operating elsewhere.

Jennifer was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. She said, “Find anything?”

“A little marijuana.” Decker climbed the steps. “Nothing that makes me think he’s dealing.”

She nodded. “What does it look like down there?”

“It’s pretty tidy. If he was having wild parties, he cleaned up after himself.”

“I don’t think I can go down there just yet.” Her eyes watered up. “I suppose I’ll have to do it eventually … especially if I’m gonna …”

Her words drifted off. Decker filled in the blanks: if I’m gonna rent it out. Jennifer was a little short on maternal feelings, but there didn’t seem to be open hostility between mother and son as far as he could tell. He took out a photograph. “Mrs. Neil, could you tell me who’s in the picture with Brady?”

“That’s my daughter.”

“Brandy?”

“Yes.” A pause. “I remember this picture. It was during the summer, and we were visiting a corn maze. I took the photo on Brandy’s phone.”

“How old were they?”

“Sixteen and twelve. Shortly after that, Brandy ran away after a blowout fight. I didn’t even try to stop her.”

“Where’d she go?”

“No idea.”

“What about her dad?”

“Not likely. He’s been in jail for the last twenty years. He’s up for parole soon, but he probably won’t get it. The family still lives in town.”

“The family of the victim?”

She nodded.

“What’s he in for?”

“Murder.” A pause. “Double murder. A man and his wife who owned a jewelry store. They weren’t supposed to be there when he did the job. I mean, robbery is wrong no matter what, but he didn’t go in with the idea of murdering the old folks.”

“I understand. Do you know if either Brandy or Brady have visited their dad in jail?”

“No idea.”

“Okay.” A pause. “And you don’t know where Brandy lives?”

“No. Out of the blue, she called me about five years ago just to tell me she was okay. She gave me her phone number. Told me not to call unless it was an emergency. I don’t know if this is an emergency, but I think she’d want to know. I’d want to know.”

“I’ll call Brandy.”

“Thank you again.”

Decker paused. “Do you remember the names of the victims your ex murdered?”

“Lydia and Glen Levine. Levine’s jewelry store. The business was taken over by the son. He was there during the robbery, hiding in the closet, and was the key witness against Brandon and his partner.” A pause. “I know this is going to sound stupid, but I’m going to tell you anyway. My ex and his partner, Kyle, swore up and down that all they did was tie up the couple, that they both were alive when they left. They swore up and down that someone else must have fired the shots after they left. It’s probably bullshit, but I don’t know … Brandon was a lot of things. I never pictured him a killer.”

“What did the witness say? The son?”

“That he was there and he saw my ex and Kyle shoot his parents.”

“But you don’t believe him?”

“He could have shot them after Brandon and Kyle left. And, on the stand, it came out that the son was a party kid, that he spent a lot of money, and there was even talk about his parents cutting him off. But since Brandon and Kyle were caught with the stolen goods, it was pretty much open and shut for conviction.”

“What was the son’s name?”

“Gregg Levine. Like I said, he still runs the place.”

“Okay. Were you married to Brandon Neil at the time of the robbery?”

“My last name is Neil. He’s Brandon Gratz. Yes, we were married. That’s why I couldn’t be made to testify against him.”

Decker nodded. “Twenty years is a long time in jail. But it’s a light sentence for a double murder. Was that the recommendation of the jury?”

“Jury recommended life without parole, but the judge gave them twenty each with a possibility of parole. But like I said, they probably won’t get out.” She caught his eye. “You think there’s something to what Brandon was saying, about him being set up?”

“I have no idea.” Decker smiled. “I might want to come back and search Brady’s room again. Would that be okay?”

“Yeah, but not forever, you know. I got plans.” She looked down. “I need the money.”

“I understand, Ms. Neil. Thank you for your time and help.”

“Detective, I may seem a little hard, but please find out who hurt my boy. We weren’t close. Still, no one should get away with murder.” She looked down. “I didn’t rat out my ex-husband. It was my constitutional right not to say anything against him and I didn’t. But once he was convicted, I was secretly glad he didn’t get away with it.”

CHAPTER 4

HOW ARE YOU and Officer Baccus working out?”

McAdams said, “Let me call you right back.”

Decker hung up. He bought an espresso at an independent coffeehouse, and as he was walking back to the car from the café, his phone rang. “You okay, Harvard?”

“Just wanted privacy.”

“How’s the new kid doing?”

“She’s quiet. I appreciate that.”

“Anything else?”

“The coroner just left.”

“Anything else about Baccus?”

“She takes copious notes. She was probably a good student. Have you called your daughter yet to find out who we’re working with?”

“Haven’t had time. The coroner didn’t say anything else other than blunt force trauma?”

“Two blows. Either one would have knocked him cold, so the second one was for good measure. She didn’t find any obvious bullet or stab wounds. She’ll know more once she gets him on the slab. How’d the death notification go?”

“Jennifer Neil wasn’t close to her son even though they lived together. She’s also estranged from her daughter, but she told me that Brady and Brandy might be in communication.”

“Brandy and Brady?”

“You heard me correctly. I’m going to set up a date to meet with her. See if she might be more useful to rounding out her brother. Their father, Brandon Gratz—Jennifer’s ex—is serving a sentence for double homicide.”

“Now we have Brandon, Brandy, and Brady.”

“Just be sure to write the names properly when we’re identifying the cast of characters. Brandon’s sentence is twenty years, so he will be up for parole soon. Jury recommended life without parole, but the judge overruled them. It’s odd.”

“Uh-oh, you’ve got that tone in your voice.”

“What tone?”

“The tone that says, ‘Even though this isn’t my case, I’m curious about it.’”

“I am.”

“It’s not only not your case, it’s not even in your jurisdiction, plus it’s been adjudicated.”

“I realize that. I’m just wondering if Brady’s death might have anything to do with the sins of the father.”

“It was twenty years ago.”

“Twenty years ago, you were eight. Twenty years ago, I was a very good homicide detective. It was a long time ago for you, but not for me. It’s worth checking out.”

“But not in the immediate.”

“I agree with you there. It sounds like Brady Neil may have done some dealing in the past. Also, he works in the electronics department. Theft and drugs could also be motives for murder. Anyway, I have a phone number for Brandy Neil. I’m going to call her up and break the news—hopefully in person.”

“Now?”

“Sometime today. He and his sister were close at one time. I found pictures of them together when they were younger.”

“Where’d you find the pictures?”

“In Brady’s basement room. There was nothing there to indicate that he was involved in something illegal, but his mom claims that he always had money. She has no idea where he got it from. I’ll tell you all the details when I see you.” A pause. “When will I see you?”

“Two of the punks you asked me about this morning are coming to the station house—four in the afternoon.”

“Which ones?”

“Uh, hold on. Here we go. Dash Harden and Chris Gingold. Riley Summers will come in tomorrow morning at ten. I haven’t heard from Noah Grand or Erik Menetti. When I’m done over here at the scene, I can drop by their houses and see if the lads are home—ask for their cooperation.” A pause. “Do I have to take the girl?”

“Officer Baccus. Yes, take her with you.”

“Decker, I’m an only child. I don’t share well.”

“Then here’s a chance for some on-the-job training. Go find the lads, but be back at the station house when the punks come in. You and Kevin can take one, and Baccus and I will take the other.”

“She’s not going to be any help to you, boss.”

“I don’t need help, Harvard. I could use a little luck. And if I don’t get luck, I’ll just have to rely on my backup plan.”

“Which is?”

“Lots and lots of hard work.”

ON THE STATION house computer, Decker plugged in “Homicide Lydia and Glen Levine.” As expected, there were hundreds of references in the general media as well as in-house police information. The original files were probably now archived. Plus, it was going to take time to go through all of it, and since he had a genuine homicide to deal with, Decker knew where his obligations lay.

He picked up the phone and called Brandy Neil. A few rings, and then it went to her message line. He left his name, his rank, and his phone number—cell and station house—and then hung up. He was about to phone his daughter when something on his computer screen caught his eyes.

One of the papers—the Hamilton Courier—had offered up a quote from the lead investigator of the Levine double murder case.

Victor Baccus.

Decker stared at the twenty-year-old article. Nabbing two murderers responsible for a double homicide could make a career in a town the size of Hamilton.

It’s not only not your case, it’s not even in your jurisdiction, plus it’s been adjudicated.

He realized he was still holding the phone. He put in a call to Cindy’s cell. When she answered, he said, “Do you have a moment?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Decker waited a beat. “Do I sound worried?”

“You don’t usually start out a call with ‘Do you have a moment?’”

“You’re right. Hi, princess, I love you. Do you have a moment?”

Cindy laughed over the line. “Around five minutes. What’s up?”

“We found a body here in Greenbury, but it’s possible that the murder took place in Hamilton—”

“You want to know if you should cede jurisdiction?”

“Does that sound like me?”

Another laugh. “Go on.”

“Of course, I’d like full access to Hamilton’s files. The police chief was willing, but he had an arm-twisting request.”

“Which is?”

“Introduce his officer daughter into the wonderful world of Homicide—”

“Oh, wait. I know where this is heading. Hamilton Police. Lenora Baccus.”

“Yes. Apparently, she worked with you.”

“She did. Did she tell you why she left the department?”

“Sexual harassment. I’m not calling to debate the validity of the charge, but I would like your opinion of her. She told me she was on your team that took down a major GTA ring.”

“That is true.”

“What did you think of her?”

“Hard worker, very diligent, willing to learn, good firearm skills, good skills with people, and a great team player.”

“That’s an endorsement. Anything to add?”

“Like is there anything negative?”

“Whatever you want to add.”

“As an original thinker? Not so much. And, truthfully, not the most robust personality on the force. No woman should have to take any kind of sexual harassment, including rude comments, but there are realities of life. She’s very good-looking. I would have thought she might have been a bit more prepared. The constant comments were obnoxious, but they seemed to blindside her. Like she’s never had unwanted male attention.”

“Maybe she was sheltered.”

“Could be, but c’mon. Like I said, we women shouldn’t have to put up with this crap, but it helps if you’re the type of person who can ignore the shit and just get on with the job. Life is not one big safe space.”

“I’m surprised about that, especially since Baccus came from a police family.”

“I don’t think her father was Mr. Supportive about her career choice.”

“Sounds like someone else we know,” Decker said.

“Daddy, once you were reconciled to my stubbornness, you were not only supportive, you were a wonderful source of information and knowledge. You were tough on me at times, but I always knew where the criticism came from. Whenever these jerks get to me, I hear your voice in my head. Just do the friggin’ job.”

“You’re still having to deal with jerks?”

“All the time, Dad. But the good news is, I’m starting to outrank all of them.”

Decker beamed. “What do you think my approach with Baccus should be?”

“Give her specific assignments—look up this, call that person, check out this alibi.”

“Questioning a suspect?”

“Never seen her do it. My intuition is it’s not her natural forte. But you’re a great teacher. She’s lucky to have you as a mentor.” A pause. “I’ve got to go.”

“Thank you, princess. I love you to death.”

“Right back at you, Daddy.”

DECKER DECIDED TO try Brandy’s number again. This time, the line clicked in with a human voice. He said, “Brandy Neil?”

“Who is this?”

“Detective Peter Decker, Greenbury Police. Is it possible that we could meet in person?”

“Why? What’s this about? How’d you get my number?”

“From your mother.”

“Why?”

“It’s about your brother, Brady.” A long pause over the line. Then a longer pause. “Ms. Neil?”

“It has to be bad news.”

“Could we meet?”

“Is he dead?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

“Murdered?”

“It looks that way.”

“Ah, Jesus!” Swearing over the line. “How?”

“I’ll tell you everything I know. But it would be helpful to meet in person.”

“Where? Hamilton police station?”

“Uh, if you could, I’d rather meet at the Greenbury station. Your brother died in our jurisdiction, so we’re running the investigation. I don’t want to intrude on Hamilton’s space. If it’s too far for you to travel, I’ll come to you.”

“I almost never go to Greenbury. It would take me like a half hour to get there.”

“Like I said, I can come to you.”

“No, I’d rather meet at a police station, no offense. I don’t know who you are.”

“I think that’s prudent of you. When can you come down?”

“Not now. It’s two o’clock. I’m still at work. I suppose I can make it around seven.”

“That would be fine.” He gave her the address of the station house and his cell number. “I’ll see you around seven. Please call if there’s any change of plans. And thank you very much.”

She spoke before he could hang up. “Where is my brother now?”

“He’s still at the morgue.”

“And if you got my number from my mother, she must know, right?”

“She does.”

“Ah, Jesus! This is just horrible … just terrible.”

“It is terrible. I’m very sorry.”

“Did he suffer?”

“No,” Decker told her.

Not a lie, not the truth. He didn’t know one way or the other, and since he didn’t know, there was no reason to cause her any further misery.