Читать книгу Walking Shadows - Faye Kellerman, Faye Kellerman - Страница 11

BEFORE INTERVIEWING BRANDY Neil, Decker hoped to glean some background, looking over the numerous articles online on the Levine double murder case. Eventually, he was able to flush out a story.

Over two decades ago, at four in the morning, Gregg Levine had made a 911 call from Levine’s Luscious Gems. In a panicky and stunned voice, he explained that his parents—Lydia and Glen—had been robbed, tied up, beaten, and shot in the head. Police were immediately dispatched. Arriving at the bloody, gruesome scene, the officers took an initial statement from Gregg. He and his parents had been working through the night, taking annual inventory, when two men with ski masks charged into the store. Gregg had been in the back and peeked out, long enough to see his parents whacked over the head and kicked and beaten by the robbers. Fearing for his life, Gregg hid inside a utility closet behind the water heater as he heard the sound of screams and finally two gunshots. Those sounds were followed by the clang of broken glass and muffled voices. He did not open the door until two hours later, after he was fairly positive that the intruders had left the store.

What he saw was pure horror: his parents, bound, gagged, and dead, sitting in their own vomit, blood, and filth. Although Gregg had only a quick look at the killers, he was able to offer a vague description of one of the men. Apparently, one of them got hot and whipped off his mask. Gregg made a guesstimate as to the heights and weights of the men, and he was pretty certain that the man he saw was Caucasian. If asked if he could identify that man if he saw him again, Gregg said probably.

After investigating layers of known criminals, snitches, and fences, the police narrowed down their options. They found as persons of interest Brandon Gratz and Kyle Masterson. The two of them had been long gone from Hamilton since the robbery/murder, and a BOLO was sent out for the men and their missing vehicles. Warnings were issued: the men were “armed and dangerous” and “do not approach” without sufficient backup. After an exhaustive manhunt, the two men were found in Nashville with the stolen items on their persons. Based on the jewels in their possession and Gregg’s eyewitness testimony, they were charged, jailed, extradited, tried, and finally sent to prison. Most of the items were recovered, but a few very valuable stones and statement pieces remained missing at the time of their sentencing.

Victor Baccus had been the lead homicide investigator, but he had a team behind him. When interviewed by newspapers, Baccus was quick to pass around the credit. He was also spent time raising money for the Levines’ five orphaned children. At twenty years old, Gregg Levine, a party boy, was forced to leave his cushy college life and take over the business to support his siblings and himself.

There was nothing unusual in the reporting, and in his reading, Decker didn’t smell anything other than good, dogged police work. A crime was committed, there was an intensive and time-consuming investigation, and two very bad felons were apprehended. Everything made perfect sense.

Still, Decker wondered about an alarm. There was no mention of anything going off, which usually points to an inside job, and it didn’t seem plausible that the Levines would be working late without the alarm being set. He wrote down the word, ALARM?, in his notebook and would check on it if he ever looked at the original files.

McAdams walked into the station with Lennie Baccus. He said, “We got your bagel.”

Decker looked up from the screen. “Thanks. You guys have dinner?”

“A new café on Princeton Street. Indian-Thai fusion. That means everything they served kills your taste buds while causing excruciating pain in your gut.”

Lennie laughed. “I liked it. In Hamilton, we don’t have anything like it. It reminded me of Philly. The restaurants there are phenomenal.”

“You two went together?”

“By chance,” Lennie said. “Tyler was already seated. The place was tiny with a sizable line for tables. He was kind enough to offer me a chair.”

“I’ve done my good deed for the summer.” McAdams looked over Decker’s shoulder. “What are you reading?”

“Lennie, go call up Detective Butterfield and ask him if he needs help canvassing.”

“Of course.”

“And thanks for the bagel.” Decker unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. Cream cheese oozed out of the sandwich. His eyes went back to the computer.

McAdams made a face. “Why are you reading articles on a twenty-year-old case? I thought we decided that was a dead end.”

“No, you decided it was a dead end.” Decker turned to him. “If I’m going to talk to Brady Neil’s sister, it behooves me to find out all I can about the family.” He pointed to the computer. “Brandon Gratz is family.”

“Brandon Gratz?” Lennie hung up the phone. “Why are you looking up Brandon Gratz?”

“Good question,” McAdams said.

“He’s Brady Neil’s father. His mom changed the surnames of her children after Brandon Gratz was arrested and convicted.”

“Oh my God! I’m so stupid!” Lennie hit her head and clicked her long nails. “Wow! Of course!”

“Why of course?” McAdams asked.

“Because Brandon Gratz and Kyle Masterson dominated my childhood.”

Decker said, “What do you remember about the case?”

“I was seven when the news broke on the double murder. It scared the crap out of me and all my classmates. That something so terrible could happen. I remember I had this babysitter I adored. After the murders, she wasn’t allowed to watch me anymore. Her mom didn’t want her out alone at night. I was heartbroken, but I understood. To tell the truth, I wouldn’t let my parents go out at night for a long time.”

“Did you know the family?”

“No, I didn’t. Hamilton’s population at that time was maybe eighty thousand. Now it’s over a hundred. The town has three high schools. Brady and I are about the same age, but we didn’t live in the same school district so I never really knew him. He grew up in the Bitsby neighborhood—working class and welfare poor. Lots of the parents drank. Some were on drugs. Some were in jail. Lots of lost kids. It’s still that way. I grew up about six miles away in the Claremont area. Blue-collar working class but positively Beverly Hills compared to Bitsby.”

“Did you happen to know the family of the victims?”

“The Levines? They lived on the border between Claremont and Bellweather. Their house looked like a mansion to me when I was growing up, but in fact it’s just a two-story brick house probably not more than twenty-five hundred square feet. Which isn’t small, but it’s far from Lower Merion.”

“That’s the posh area in Philadelphia,” McAdams said.

“I’m aware,” Decker said. “And you didn’t know the Levines?”

“Actually, I knew the youngest daughter, Ella. She was a grade older than me, and after it happened, they pulled her out of Hamilton, and she went to live with relatives for about a year.”

“How many kids were there?” McAdams asked.

“Five. The oldest was Gregg, who I thought was really old. In fact, he was only twenty or twenty-one when he was a state’s witness against the accused. It must have been horrible for him.”

“Really horrible,” McAdams said. “Not more than a kid himself.”

“Yeah, but he pulled it together. He quit school and took over the family business. After a few years, he brought them all back under one roof. There were grandparents in the mix, but Gregg and the next oldest, his sister Yvonne, continued on with the business while looking after the remaining three kids. Ella was the youngest, but the other two were in high school, so they must have been teenagers. The community helped out as well. I remember my dad taking me to a special police dinner to benefit the family.”

Decker said, “Hell of a lot of responsibility for a twenty-year-old boy and his teenaged sister.”

“The store is still a going concern, twenty years later. The other three kids don’t live here anymore. I don’t know what happened to them. But Gregg and Yvonne are still in town. They both married locals and have kids of their own. They do lots of charity work with foster care and disaffected youth. Drawing from their own experiences, no doubt.”

Lennie sat down and shook her head. “I haven’t thought about Gratz and Masterson in ages. They should be up for parole soon.”

“Next year.”

“It won’t happen. Not if the family has their say-so.”

“Any idea why Brandon Gratz and Kyle Masterson didn’t get life without parole?”

“You’ll have to ask my father about that. He and the entire community thought it was the biggest miscarriage of justice ever to happen around here. The judge retired after the case and moved out of the area. I don’t remember her name. It was a she. I remember my father ranting about the bleeding-heart liberal justice system.”

“Your father was lead investigator on the case.”

“I know he was. He worked it night and day. I don’t think he slept a wink until Gratz and Masterson were apprehended, charged, and convicted.”

Decker nodded. “I was looking over the articles on him. He and his solid police work were credited for the convictions.”

“Like I said, he worked day and night.”

To Lennie, McAdams said, “Kinda strange he didn’t tell you that Brady Neil was Brandon Gratz’s son.”

“I’m sure my father just assumed that I knew.” She looked at Decker. “Did my dad tell you about Brady’s father?”

“Not when Radar spoke to him, but at that time, we didn’t know who the victim was. If I ask him about it, I’m sure he’ll tell me what he knows. Whether the double murder had something to do with Brady Neil’s death?” Decker shrugged. “Right now, we’re in the beginning stages and everything should be kept under wraps. Like McAdams keeps saying, it’s best not to get distracted by twenty-year-old cases that may not be relevant.”

The room was quiet. Lennie picked up her backpack. “I’m going to help Butterfield out in the field until it gets dark. Should I come back here?”

“It’ll be after nine. Nothing is urgent. Just go home.”

“Thanks. I want to prepare my questions for tomorrow morning’s interview.”

“Absolutely.” Decker paused. “Lennie, do you live far from here?”

“No. I’m just across the border. Why?”

“If I need help as the case progresses, I’m more likely to ask you to come in if you’re close by.”

“Fifteen minutes. I live in a studio apartment where I can touch the walls if I spread my arms wide enough. So anytime you want help, just call.”

“Thank you. Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Decker waited for her to leave, then shut down the computer. “We should leave if we want to get to Brandy Neil’s place on time.”

“That was an odd question,” McAdams said. “How far she lives from the station house. You never asked me that.”

“You were in the district.”

“No, that’s not it.” McAdams waited.

Decker said, “Tyler, what’s the normal way you ask a question if you want to know where a person lives?”

“Where do you live?”

“And what would she have thought if I asked ‘Where do you live?’”

“She would have thought that you were asking where she lives.”

“Maybe also with whom she lives.”

McAdams thought a moment. “Aha! You want to know if she lives with her parents. You don’t want her yakking about the case to her dad around the dinner table.”

“Victor Baccus is her father, and he’s bound to be interested in anything that has to do with the case that made his career. And until we find Brady Neil’s killer, Chief Baccus is going to be curious if there’s a link. He may ask his daughter a question or two.” Decker stood up and wiped his mouth. “Hopefully she’ll be so busy, she won’t have time for dinner with the folks and a lot of extraneous yakking. Let’s go.”

“Why don’t you just tell her to keep the case confidential?”

“I already told her to keep the case under wraps. She was a detective. She’s a trained police officer. She knows about confidentiality, and so does the chief. If I make a big deal about it, it’ll seem like: (a) I don’t trust her—which I don’t—and (b) I’m suspicious of her dad—which I’m not. If there’s tension between father and daughter, it’ll make my life harder. Let’s go.”

They walked out of the station together toward Decker’s car. McAdams said, “Do you think Chief Baccus put his daughter on the team to keep an eye on the investigation? It was an odd request.”

“Yes, it was. I don’t know what his motivations were. So far, I’ll just take him at his word and concentrate on the case in front of us.”

McAdams climbed into the passenger seat. “I still think it’s weird.”

“Harvard, you’re a cautious guy. I’m a cautious guy. Until we know what’s going on, we’ll keep the conversation between us. Just think about what I said the next time you go out with Lennie for lunch.”

“I didn’t go out with her,” McAdams insisted. “I just offered her a seat at my table.” He paused. “Do you think she was trying to pump me for information?”

Decker turned on the ignition. “What’d you talk about?”

“Just shooting the shit. I talked about Harvard Law, she talked about her time with Philadelphia PD. I didn’t tell her about Cindy, by the way.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Decker edged out of the police lot and onto the street. “It would have been bonehead stupid if you did, and you’re not bonehead stupid. If you talk to her outside of work, keep it neutral. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You don’t trust her?”

“She’s new. I don’t trust anyone new. In reality, I don’t trust anyone unless I’ve worked with them for a very long time.”

“So cynical.”

“No, you’re cynical. I’m just wary.”

“How long before you trusted me?”

“About a year. After you got shot.”

McAdams was shocked. “I needed a hit with a lethal weapon before you trusted me?”

“I would have trusted you eventually, Harvard.” Decker smiled. “Taking a bullet for me just sped things up.”