McAdams said, “What’s the plan now?”
Decker was reading a text on his phone. He looked at the time: six minutes to six. “Uh, it looks like Brady Neil’s sister has decided I’m legit. She wants me to come to her apartment at seven-thirty instead of her coming here.” He looked up at Tyler. “As long as you’re getting a salary, you might as well come with me.”
“Want me to check up on the canvassing?” Butterfield said.
“They didn’t hear the mailboxes being whacked right in front of their houses, so I’m not too hopeful on that regard,” Decker said. “On the other hand, the elderly have insomnia. Maybe someone peeked through their shades and saw a car drive off.”
“I’m gonna grab a sandwich and then I’ll go back to Canterbury,” Butterfield said.
“Fine.” To McAdams, Decker said. “You should grab some dinner also.”
“You’re not eating?”
“Pick me up a toasted bagel and cream cheese at Bagelmania. And a cup of coffee. The station’s stuff is swill.”
“I can do that,” Lennie said.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Anything else?”
“Have you ever interviewed before?”
“A few times.”
“Prepare some questions, then.”
“I’ll do it as soon as I come back with your bagel.”
“Get yourself one on me.”
“I brown-bagged it.” A half smile. “Working in Homicide for the first time, I guess I figured it would be a long night.”
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!”
