Walking Shadows. Faye Kellerman

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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

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