Читать книгу Walking Shadows - Faye Kellerman, Faye Kellerman - Страница 8

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.”