“Maybe she’s a double agent. She’s feeding you some information while telling her dad what you said to her.”
“If she is a double agent, she’s doing a fine acting job. In my opinion, she’s a young woman who doesn’t fully have the trust of her dad, and she’s working hard to prove herself.”
“Don’t we all want Daddy’s approval?”
“Maybe.” Decker’s father had been a very nice but remote man. They didn’t talk much, but they built a lot of homemade projects together. Wood and tools had been their primary form of communication. He took a sip of coffee and said, “What CCTV tapes did you pull from Tollway?”
“We got about halfway before we were called here. Neither Kevin nor I had any chance to look at them.”
“That should be our next step. What about the house? Did you and Kev go through it thoroughly?”
“As much as we could without impeding Forensics. Probably the best thing to do is come back after they finish up.”
“I agree. Let’s start viewing the tapes. We’re dealing with a murder and a missing person and a bloodbath. I want as much information on that car as possible. Go get Kevin and we’ll go back to the station. I’m still waiting for a call from the hospital regarding Jaylene Boch. If she regains full consciousness, maybe she can tell us something—if she’s all there.”
“Why wouldn’t she be all there? She’s not that old.”
“No, she’s not that old, but she’s suffered a trauma and she’s had it hard since her accident. If she gives me anything useful at all, I’ll be a happy man.”
Once at Greenbury station, they divided up the tapes from the CCTV cameras on Tollway Boulevard. The three men sat looking at three monitors for a little under two hours, attempting to discern a license plate or, at least, get a bead on the route the car took.
It took a long time to get enough frames to get enough angles to get an entire license number, and that information turned out to be a bust. The plate was taken from a ’78 Caddie Seville—of Linda and Barry Mark, who lived two blocks down Canterbury Lane, about three blocks from the spot where Brady Neil had been found murdered.
Decker took his car keys and said, “You two keep with the tapes. I’m going to talk to the Marks. Call me if you get anything interesting.”
“I’ll come with you,” McAdams said. “My eyes are getting a little buggy.”
“It isn’t a two-person job, Harvard.”
“I’ll wait in the car in case it does become a two-person job.”
“Suit yourself.”
Ten minutes later, Decker was sitting in the Marks’ living room furnished with contemporary pieces—all sleek and monochrome—as well as paintings with abstract blotches done in oils. Weird because the outside of the house was still upstate bungalow. Light was coming in through the windows, hitting the walls and concrete floors at odd angles. The effect, combined with the interview, almost qualified as performance art.
Linda wasn’t home, but Barry was game to talk. “Does that mean we have to get a new license plate?” He was over seventy, maybe even closer to eighty, with thin, white hair and a jowly face. He wore dark blue sweats with a sizable gut hanging over the waistband.
“If I were you, I’d do that,” Decker said. “It will avoid confusion.”
“Damn inconvenience. It’s already after five o’clock.”
“There’s no immediate worry, Mr. Mark. We’ll inform other agencies so that anyone who calls it in will know that it’s a stolen plate. In the meantime, I’ll write you out a report regarding the stolen license plate that you can take to the DMV.”
“Damn inconvenience.” He paused and then coughed. “I suppose it’s better sooner than later. I don’t want to get arrested.”
“There’s lots to worry about in the world. Getting arrested isn’t one of them.”
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
“No. It’s just a statement of fact.”
“Okay. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow morning. Is the car stolen as well?”
“We’re checking that out. It’s hard to do without its proper plates.”
“Glad they didn’t steal my car.”
“Yes, that would have been very . . . inconvenient,” Decker said.
“It’s a classic, the Seville.”
“Nice set of wheels.”
“Alex Delaware drives a Seville.”
“Pardon?”
“You know, the psychologist in the books. He works with that policeman . . . what’s his name.” A pause. “Milo Sturgis. They work together solving crimes. You don’t read mysteries? You should. Damn good novels.”
“I’ll ask my wife about it. She reads a lot of mysteries.”
“You should read it. Maybe it’d give you a tip or two. You know. WWAD.”
“Excuse me?”
“What would Alex do.” He laughed and wheezed at the same time.
Decker said, “Thank you for talking to me, and I’m sorry for the hassle. You can come into the Greenbury police station anytime and pick up the report for your stolen plate.”
“Sure. I’ll bring you a couple of novels if you want. They’re paperback, might have some coffee stains, but hey, it’s for free.”
“Your donation to the Police Department is much appreciated. Thank you, sir.”
“Might entertain you on all those stakeouts.”
“I’m sure they would, but unfortunately when you do a stakeout, you have to pay attention to what you’re looking at.”
A long pause. “You want audio instead?”
“Mr. Mark, whatever you want to donate to the police is appreciated. Thank you for your time.” Decker left before he started laughing to himself. McAdams was waiting in the car.
“What?” he said.
Decker slid into the driver’s seat, still chuckling. “I love people.”
“Since when?”
“Since always. You’re the curmudgeon.” He put the key in the ignition. “Okay. We need to pull the rest of the CCTV along Tollway and see where the car was headed, especially since we now know the plates were stolen.” Before Decker could turn on the motor, his cell rang with Butterfield on the other end. He put his phone on speaker.
“The hospital called, Deck. Jaylene Boch is conscious and is asking for her son. They don’t know if they should say something or . . .”
“They should tell her that he’s missing because that’s all we know right now.”
“They don’t want to upset her.”
“It’s going to upset her. What do they want us to do about that?” Decker paused. “They want me to tell her?”
McAdams said, “You wanted to talk to her anyway.”
“Jeez, so now I have to be the therapist?”
“I guess they figure you do death calls.”
“And hate every one of them.” Decker sighed. “Fine. Tell the hospital I’ll be right over, Kev. And can you finish picking up whatever CCTV tapes you can at this late hour? We’ll go through those tomorrow.”
“Sure. If you don’t mind, I’ll go home afterward. Unless you want me with you at the hospital.”
“Not necessary.” Decker looked at McAdams. “You want to come with me?”
“Oh sure, now that your new best bud, Lennie, has been dismissed, you’ll take me as your leavings.” When Decker laughed, McAdams said, “I’m serious.”
“Aw, c’mon, Harvard! You can’t be that pissy.”
“I can and I am.”
“Lennie’s gone?” Butterfield asked.
“Her father took her off the case,” Decker said.
“Why? I thought Baccus was adamant to have her on the case.”
“I know. And she was doing fine. Weird, huh?”
“How’d she take it?” Butterfield asked.
“Not happy.”
“Did he give you a reason?”
“He told me he didn’t want her on a ‘messy’ homicide. Maybe he’s worried about her safety. Anyway, see what you can do about the
CCTV.”
“I’m on it.” Butterfield cut the line.
McAdams said, “I still think that she’s working undercover—like a spy-counterspy thing.”
Decker said, “Why would she want to spy on me?”
“You told me to be careful around her, that you didn’t trust her.”
“I didn’t trust her, but that doesn’t mean I think she’s spying on us. Fact is she’s gone now so it doesn’t matter what either of us think.”
“I’m just saying that maybe, as you’re getting close to the truth, her dad wants her for other things.”
“What other things?”
“Poking around your office when you’re not in.”
“McAdams, what tabloids have you been reading? No one is poking around in my office. And what truths are you talking about? Who killed Neil? I hope I’m getting closer, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.” Decker rolled his eyes. “Are you coming with me to the hospital or not?”
“Can I come to dinner at your house afterward? I’m a little tired of canned chili.”
“You’re welcome anytime for dinner. Let’s go.”
“By the way, have you checked this car for bugs? She could have planted something and now knows everything we’ve just said.”
“What is with you?” Decker was stunned.
“Her dad just pulling her off like that. Something’s wrong.”
“Maybe, but I can’t worry about that. And I guarantee you this, Harvard.” Decker started the car. “The only bugs in my car are the splotches on my windshield.”
Jaylene Boch stirred and moaned as she drifted in and out of sleep. She had a tube in her nose and needles in her veins with IVs dripping from hooked poles. A machine beeped out her heartbeat. Her blood pressure was high, and her oxygen level was low. Perfect conditions to be delivering bad news.
Gently, Decker shook her arm. The woman turned in his direction and managed to open her eyes. The orbs lobbed from one side to the other as they tried to focus. He got close and spoke soothingly. “Jaylene, can you hear me?”
Nothing, then a faint nod.
“I’m Detective Peter Decker from the police. This is Detective McAdams. We’re come to see how you’re doing.”
“Joe . . .” Her eyelids fluttered.
Decker gathered his thoughts. “Do you know where you are, Jaylene?” No answer. “You’re in the hospital.”
Jaylene was quiet.
“Someone broke into your home. Do you remember anything about that?”
The woman stared at Decker and then pointed her finger at him.
“Yes, I was there. I called the ambulance for you. Do you remember that?”
She was silent. Then she said, “Joe . . .”
“Do you mean Joseph, your son?” No answer. “I don’t know where your son is, Jaylene. We’ve been looking for him. Do you have any idea where he might be?”
No answer.
Decker said, “Do you remember anything from the last few days?”
Again, she pointed her finger at Decker.
“You remember me?”
She looked at Decker, then she looked at McAdams and pointed a finger at him.
“You remember Detective McAdams?”
“I wasn’t there,” Tyler said.
Decker held up a hand to silence him. “You remember Detective McAdams and you remember me?”
She let her hand drift to the side of the bed. She closed her eyes. “Joe . . .”
“Joe is missing,” Decker said. “We’re looking for him. Would you know anything about that?”
Tears ran down her face, but she kept her eyes closed. As she lay there and minutes passed, her breathing became more rhythmic.
“We’re done here.” Decker got up. “Let’s go.”
Once outside the room and in the corridor, McAdams said, “She’s confused.”
“She is.”
“I mean, I wasn’t even there.”
“It’s still early in her recovery. She obviously needs more time.”
“Do you think her memory will come back? Traumatizing events like this are often blocked out of consciousness.”
“I know that. She’s not that old, but she’s not young, either. And she’s sick. I don’t expect much, but when she gets better I’ll ask anyway.”
“Do you even think that she understood that her son’s missing?”
“Yes, I believe so.” Decker sighed. “Even worse, I fear she thinks he’s dead.”
Chapter 13
“Welcome back to Greenbury, Tyler.” Rina set a hot plate of chicken onto a trivet. “This is probably not the start you were looking forward to.”
“I’m surprised that our little town has racked up multiple homicides in the last couple of years.” McAdams put his napkin on his lap. “We’re nothing but a bunch of students, professors, and retirees.”
Decker said, “The murders took place in Hamilton.”
McAdams said, “Yet here we are on the scene again.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it.” Rina had tucked her hair into a kerchief. She was wearing a midcalf jersey dress that was a size too big on her. But it was comfortable, and that was all she cared about. She sat down, picked up Decker’s plate, and gave him some sliced white meat. Sides were coleslaw and coleslaw.
Decker said, “Do you want some wine, darlin’?”
“No, thanks.” She sat down. “Tell me what’s going on?” After McAdams filled her in, Rina said, “Poor woman. How awful.”
“Yeah, it’s probably worse for her son. Something very bad happened in there.”
“And you don’t know if Joseph Boch was a victim or a perpetrator?”
“Not yet,” Decker said. “Scientific Investigative Division is taking multiple samples. We’ll see if we have multiple blood types.”
“It sounds horrible,” Rina said. “Brady Neil was bashed on the head, right?”
“Yes.”
“Could his wound produce as much blood as you saw in the back room?”
“Not in my opinion.” Decker put down his fork and knife. “Too much blood and way too much splatter. That kind of damage is more consistent with a stab wound that severed a major artery.”
“And you have no idea where Joseph Boch is?”
“No. I don’t know anything about him, but I’m going to find out.”
“You’re going back to Bigstore?” McAdams said.
“At some point, yes.” Decker paused. “Joe Boch didn’t seem to make much of a mark at his workplace, so I don’t think that will tell me a lot. I’ll have to do a little research—find out as much as I can about him.” He looked at Rina. “How was your day?”
“Much less eventful than yours.”
“What’s today? Wednesday?”
“It is,” McAdams said. “Can I come for dinner on Friday?”
“Yes,” Rina answered.
“Can I sleep over?”
“No,” Decker answered.
Rina laughed. “You have your own apartment, Tyler.”
“I get lonely. You know me, Rina. I hate people, but I like your company.”
“Aww,” Rina said.
“The answer is still no,” Decker said. “Friday nights are for my relaxation. I don’t want anything that reminds me of work.” Again, he turned to his wife. “Can you do me a favor, Rina? Whenever you have a free moment, could you scour the internet and look up everything out there on the Levine’s Luscious Gems jewelry store robbery and murder case? I found some old newspaper coverage, but I couldn’t go into depth because I had other work to do.”
“I can do that,” McAdams said.
“No, you coordinate with the Hamilton detectives on the Boch case. We can’t devote that kind of time to reading when we have an active homicide to look into,” Decker said. “Especially now that Lennie’s off the case, we’re short a person.”
“Lennie’s off the case?” Rina asked. “Why?”
“Her dad pulled her off.”
&nbs
p; “I’m thinking she was a spy for her father,” McAdams said. “Victor Baccus was the lead investigator on the double murder. Then Brady Neil was murdered. I think the elder Baccus wanted to know why and see what we were up to.”
“Then why pull her off the case?”
“I’m still working that part out.”
Rina said, “Is there any indication that the chief didn’t handle the double murder well?”
“I haven’t read anything that indicates misconduct, but I also haven’t seen the original files, either. They’re archived, no doubt, but I’d love to look at them at some point.” Decker shook his head and hooked a thumb toward McAdams. “First, he tells me that Brady Neil has nothing to do with the double murders, and now he’s on to conspiracy theories.”
“He is here in the room,” McAdams said. “So why do you think Baccus pulled her off the case?”
“I don’t know, Harvard. I can just repeat what Baccus said, that he didn’t want her involved in a messy homicide.” He turned to Rina. “There’s some rationale for that. He wants more experienced people now that the homicide has spilled over to his area.”
“And you’re okay with that explanation?”
“No, I’m not. Especially since I told him she was doing fine.”
“That’s why I changed my mind,” McAdams said. “Flexibility is a trait of the thinking man.”
Decker was deep in thought. “He’s an interesting guy, Baccus. He pulls her off the case but more or less gives me free rein to do what I need to do. I hope he’s as forthcoming when I ask for the files. Or maybe I’ll ask Tran to get them for me. I think I trust him more than Baccus.”
“Go with your gut,” Rina said. “I’m free tomorrow. I’ll go down to the Hamilton library and look up every old newspaper that had articles on the case. Even if the papers haven’t been computerized, I can comb through the microfiche.”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea. Computerization wasn’t quite as common twenty years ago, especially in the smaller towns. I bet you will find out a lot more on microfiche.”
“And you think the police did a righteous investigation?”
“So far, nothing tells me otherwise.”
Rina said, “Then why are you looking into it?”
“I’m looking for a motive for Neil’s murder. When I don’t have a reason, I look into the victim’s background. And that means I look into his father’s background. Also, this is really sticking in my craw: when Glen and Lydia were doing inventory the night they were murdered, there was no mention in any of the papers about an alarm going off. That’s odd.” He paused, then turned to his wife. “While you’re at the library—if you have time—could you also look up Glen and Lydia Levine and find out what you can about them? I hope that’s not asking too much.”
Walking Shadows Page 10
