Walking Shadows

by Faye Kellerman

  The guard pulled out a key. He uncuffed him from the back, cuffing his left arm to a metal ring on the desk while leaving the right arm free. Then he pocketed the key and stood by the door, hand on his holster.

  “Thanks.” Gratz sat very still in his chair and waited.

  Decker broke the ice. “I’m sorry about your son.”

  Gratz’s eyes scanned Decker’s face. He pursed his lips. “Are you in charge?”

  “Of your son’s murder investigation? Yes, I am.”

  “Then you’re with Hamilton PD?”

  “Greenbury PD.”

  “Greenbury?”

  “Your son was found in Greenbury’s jurisdiction, near the border of Hamilton. It’s officially my case.”

  “You worked a lot of murder cases?”

  “I have.” Decker waited for another question. When it didn’t come, he said, “I noticed Brady visited you a couple weeks before it happened.”

  “Yeah? Maybe.”

  “It’s a fact. I saw his name in the visitors’ log. How often did he visit you?”

  The man scratched his head. “Were you looking for his name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know if you two had a relationship.”

  “Is that relevant?”

  “It might be.”

  “You think I had something to do with the murder of my own son?”

  “Nothing I’ve heard would lead me in that direction. But in a murder investigation, you leave no stone unturned. How often did he visit you?”

  “What have you heard?”

  Decker sat back. “Brandon, I only have”—he looked at his watch—“another twenty-plus minutes with you. If you don’t mind, let me ask my questions and if there is leftover time, I’ll answer yours. How often did Brady visit you?”

  Gratz shrugged. “I don’t get many visitors.”

  “All the more reason why you should remember how often your only son visited you.”

  A smile perched on his lips. It quickly disappeared.

  Odd, Decker thought.

  Finally, Brandon said, “Maybe three or four times. It started about six months ago.”

  “Was it out of the blue?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did you two talk about?”

  “Catching up.”

  “Why do you think he suddenly contacted you?”

  “He said that he wanted to get to know me.”

  “Did he talk about himself, or did he want to hear about your life?”

  Another scratch, this time to his face. Gratz said, “Little bit of both.”

  Like smart inmates, the man didn’t volunteer any information. Decker said, “People I’ve talked to said that Brady was doing okay.”

  Gratz nodded.

  “How about you, Brandon? Are you doing okay?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t back down, but I don’t cause trouble.” A pause. “I’m up for parole. I probably won’t get it, but even in the worst case, I should be out in ten years. Less than ten for good behavior. If people leave me alone, I play nice.”

  “Smart.” Decker leaned forward. “Why do you think you’ll be out automatically in ten years?”

  “Lawyer told me they usually are more lenient with people over sixty.”

  “Good luck then.” Gratz was silent. Decker said, “Okay, sir, this is the deal. I’m going to just lay it open for you and you decide whether or not to talk to me.” Again, Gratz was quiet. “Brady seemed to have kept his nose relatively clean. He had a job, he had a car, and he was going to school part-time. I understand he dealt drugs in high school, but if he was still doing it, it wasn’t obvious to me or anyone who knew him. I’d say he had turned into a good citizen except he seemed to have expendable money and no one knew where that came from.

  “I don’t know who murdered your son. But once I find out the why, the who may be easier to find. I’m going to ask you this, and I hope you’ll be honest with me. Do you think his murder has anything to do with you and your past? Because if you do think your past is a factor, I’d really like to know about it.”

  Gratz didn’t talk for a moment. Then he said, “What do you know about my past?”

  “I know you never admitted to the Levine homicides. And I have a feeling that there’s a lot more to it than Hamilton PD is telling me.”

  “What’s Hamilton telling you?”

  “What I’ve been reading in the papers.”

  “Why do you think there’s more to it?”

  “Call it detective’s intuition.”

  Again, Gratz didn’t say anything. Then he said, “Time’s almost up.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I’ll say this: you shouldn’t believe anything, whether it’s in the papers or what people could have told you. People lie, you know.”

  “I know. What should I believe?”

  Gratz shrugged.

  “Okay,” Decker said. “Maybe you want to think about that one. What did you and Brady talk about? Specifically.”

  “Lots of things. I don’t have time to get into it. Specifically.”

  “I can come back.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “One thing before you go. It’s important.” When Gratz looked upward and remained silent, Decker pulled out the black-and-white photocopies and said, “Do you know who these people are?” He put the snapshot copies on the table.

  Gratz’s eyes moved downward. Slowly, his finger touched the corners of the copies until they were lined up in a row. “Where’d you get these?”

  “You answer my question, I’ll answer yours. Do you know these people?”

  A pause. “Do you know about Mitchell and Margot Flint?”

  “I do. They were scheduled to be sentenced for embezzlement and grand theft, but they fled underground. This happened about eighteen months before the Levine murders. When I read the murder files, I wondered if they were considered suspects before you were arrested.”

  Gratz was on the edge of his chair. “And?”

  “I didn’t see their names in print because the file has been heavily redacted—blacked out.” Decker pointed to the photocopies. “Is it them?”

  “Can’t say. It was a long time ago.”

  “Give it your best shot.”

  “Why should I help you?”

  “Because right now, we have a common goal: finding out who murdered your son.”

  “It might be if I ever gave a shit about my kids.”

  Cold, Decker thought. “It’s a simple yes or no. Do you know who these people are?”

  A few moments passed. Then Gratz said, “I knew Mitch better than Margot. The guy doesn’t look anything like Mitch.”

  “And the woman?”

  Gratz smiled. “Who knows? Women can change their appearances—dye their hair, get a nose job, fiddle with their boobs. Margot was a hot number—a blonde with big boobs. This woman is a brunette with normal knockers. You decide. Where’d you get these?”

  “At another murder scene.”

  His face registered surprise. “Who got murdered?”

  “Joseph Boch Junior, known as Boxer. Does the name sound familiar?”

  For just a moment, Gratz seemed at a loss for words. He stammered, “I knew the old man—Joe Boch Senior.”

  “Then you must know that he was a wife beater, a petty thief, and a real lowlife. About the time of your arrest, he moved to Kansas. He was from the Midwest, but his wife, Jaylene, was a local Hamiltonian. You know Jaylene. You went to high school with her.”

  Gratz shrugged. “She’s older than I am, but yeah, I knew her.”

  “She’s in a wheelchair from a car accident. The people who broke into her house and murdered her son left her tied to her chair to die a slow death.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Said without emotion.

  “She’ll probably make it. What do you know about Joe Senior?”

  “You already asked me
that.” Gratz stared at Decker. His lips formed a slow, joyless smile. “You know, not all criminals hang, especially if they’re stupid idiots who beat their wives.” He looked at the guard. “Take me back.”

  The guard cuffed Gratz behind his back and said to Decker, “Someone will be here in a moment to escort you out.”

  Decker said, “Solving your son’s murder may be beneficial to both of us, Brandon.”

  Gratz turned his head. “It would help you, not me.”

  “What if I were to say that I believe that you may be innocent of the Levine murders.”

  “I’d say you were shitting me in hopes of getting something from me.”

  “Like what?”

  “You tell me, because I got nothing to say right now.”

  “Brady was your son,” Decker said. “Keep an open mind about the future. I’ll come back whenever you feel like talking.”

  “Don’t count on it.” Gratz sneered. “You’re a cop. You’re the enemy. End of story.”

  Chapter 22

  Decker knocked on the passenger window, startling his wife. When she unlocked the doors, he said, “Sorry I scared you.”

  “It’s fine. How’d it go?”

  “As expected—frustrating.” He recapped the conversation. “Gratz insists that he and Brady were just playing catch-up, but there was something deeper going on. Maybe whatever they discussed got Brady murdered.”

  “No wonder he wasn’t talkative,” Rina said. “He doesn’t want his son’s death on his conscience.”

  “I don’t think he has a conscience.”

  “Brady is still his son.”

  “He told me he didn’t give a shit about his kids. Could be bravado, but it could be he’s truly apathetic.”

  “Do you think he’ll see you again?”

  “Maybe, but I’m not positive what good it’ll do me unless he wants to talk. And he’ll only want to talk to me if I can do something for him—which I can’t.”

  “You never know, Peter. He might think about it afterward and give you a call.”

  “Sure. But it’s too far to be making trips out here for a fishing expedition.” He started the ignition and pulled out of the parking space. “Unless he has something genuine to offer, there’s no purpose for a second round. Thanks for coming with me. What have you been doing?”

  “Trying to locate Jack Newsome—the Hamilton detective on the Levine murder case.”

  “Yes. And?”

  “He lives in Florida. Looks about sixty-five or so.”

  “So that means he retired around fifty-five. Pretty typical for the force.”

  “Unlike someone else we know.”

  Decker smiled. “You’d hate it if I retired.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Rina, you don’t want me around all the time.”

  “Not all the time, but most of the time.”

  Decker laughed. He left the prison lot and headed toward the highway on his way back home. “If Newsome is in his midsixties, he would have been around forty-five when the Levines were murdered.”

  “You can do math.”

  “Very funny. Where does he live in Florida?”

  “Not far from your mother. Hint, hint.”

  “Ah, I see where this is going.” They rode a few minutes in silence until Decker said, “It might be easier to just call him up, Rina.”

  “Don’t you always say it’s better to talk to someone face-to-face?” A pause. “Peter, she’s in her nineties. She’s still healthy, but you never know. Even if it’s hot and humid, we should see her before it’s too late. Then how would you feel?”

  “You’re right—as always.”

  “Don’t be too sentimental.”

  “The trouble with Ida Decker is she’s too sharp. She loves to needle me.”

  “So do I.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t really mean it.” Decker blew out air. “Okay, we’ll go—combine business with business. Did you get a phone number for Newsome?”

  “I did not. But I’m sure as an officer of the law, you’d have no trouble doing that. And I’ll be happy to entertain your mom while you interview Newsome.”

  “If he’ll talk to me.”

  “Why wouldn’t he talk to you?”

  “Some detectives might consider it disloyal to talk against their former colleagues.”

  “You’re not accusing anyone of wrongdoing. You’re just asking for information from someone who was there.”

  “He’ll be suspicious and rightly so. I don’t know if he’ll talk to me.”

  “Maybe that’s the reason he moved out of Hamilton—to get away from his former colleagues.”

  “Or maybe he’s tired of freezing cold winters.”

  “You won’t know until you call him up and sound him out. If he refuses an interview, well, that says something, doesn’t it?”

  “How about this?” Decker said. “If we’re going to take the trip to visit Mom, maybe I shouldn’t call him. It might be better just to show up at his doorstep. That way I could say I was in the area and I had a couple of questions. He might think it’s a little strange, but I doubt that he’ll slam the door in my face.”

  “Most likely he won’t. But you still might want to call him. People often don’t like surprises. Are we taking Tyler with us?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it.” He paused. “It might be better for him to stay . . . keep an eye on Lennie Baccus.”

  “You’re worried about her safety, or you don’t trust her?”

  “A little of both.” He thought a moment. “I’ll leave him here. Besides, I don’t think prime time’s ready for Tyler McAdams versus Ida Decker.”

  “You know, it just might be Ida Decker and Tyler McAdams versus you.”

  “Come to think of it, that probably is what will happen. Lucky for me that you’re on tag team, right?”

  “Of course, darling.” She patted his knee. “I always have your back.” A pause. “You know my mother is only a short plane ride away from your mother.”

  Decker exhaled. “Yes, I know, and yes, we’ll visit your mother as well. At least she doesn’t needle me.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you. You know what they say, Peter. One mitzvah leads to another.”

  “Do they say anything about one headache leading to another?”

  “No, there is no commentary on headaches.” Rina made a face. “It’s probably because the sages never met either one of our mothers.”

  They were almost at Greenbury when the Bluetooth kicked in. Wendell Tran’s voice cut through the line. “I went to check on the Levine murder files. It seems they’ve been checked out by Lennie Baccus. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

  Tran sounded pissed. How to handle this delicate situation? Decker looked at Rina and made a face. He said, “Can we meet somewhere, Tran?”

  “You don’t want to talk over the phone.”

  “Never said that,” Decker answered. “But I do like talking in person.”

  “I’m not calling from the station house. The conversation isn’t being recorded.”

  “Great. Where would you like to meet? I can come to you in about twenty minutes. The timing is perfect because I want to fill you in on the conversation I had with Brandon Gratz.”

  A long moment passed in silence. “You spoke to Gratz?”

  “Just getting back from visiting him in prison. I was wondering if Gratz was doing something that ultimately led to his son’s death.”

  “And?”

  Decker cleared his throat. “Where would you like to meet?”

  “Name a place.”

  “How about Jaylene Boch’s house? It’s still taped up. And we should go over it together . . . see if we can find something that might lead us to Boxer.”

  “You read the forensic report, Decker. You know that no human being could sustain that much blood loss and still be alive. We should be looking for a body. The area around the house is very wooded. We’r
e talking acres, if not miles.”

  “Has anyone searched beyond the immediate vicinity?”

  “Smitz and I poked around over the weekend. We didn’t get too far because we’ve both been tied up on this robbery case.”

  “I’d be happy to help you search . . . if you want help.”

  There was a long pause. “We’ve got about three hours of daylight left,” Tran said. “I’ll meet you at the house.”

  Rina gave him the thumbs-up.

  Decker said, “See you then.” He hung up the phone and pulled into the driveway. Then he shut the motor. “I should change into hiking boots.”

  “Be careful, Peter. You don’t know if he’s a good guy or a bad guy.”

  “Tran? He’s fine.”

  “Take your gun.”

  “Rina—”

  “I’m serious. You said yourself that the room was a slaughterhouse.”

  “I’ll take my gun, but nothing’s going to happen unless I get eaten by a bear.”

  “All the more reason to take a gun.”

  Decker opened the car door. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  Rina got out of the car. “You’re shining me on. Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”

  “No, I’m fine. Want me to pick up some takeout for dinner?”

  She opened the front door. “No, I’ll make something.”

  “You sure? It’s been a long day.”

  She turned to him. “If you find a body, your day will be even longer. This way, at least I’ll have something to eat.”

  The inside of Jaylene’s house was hot and sticky and smelled like spoiled meat. Wendell Tran was dressed in a short-sleeved blue shirt and blue cotton pants. Decker had changed from a suit and tie to a long-sleeved cotton shirt and jeans. Both of them were wearing boots. Tran said, “Want to tell me why Lennie Baccus checked the Levine murder files out of archives?”

  “I don’t know why, but I’m guessing that my probing made her curious.” Decker looked around the living room. The walls were dirty with fingerprint dust, and there were boards over the floor so footprints wouldn’t contaminate whatever was left on the wood laminate. “I didn’t ask her to do it. I asked you.” When Tran didn’t answer, Decker said, “For the record, it’s hard to tell what the original murder investigation team did because the papers were heavily redacted.”