Walking Shadows
Page 33
Even with his liberty granted, the guard still chained Gratz to the bolted-down table in the windowless interview room. It was a move that Decker appreciated. He loosened the tie around his neck. It was hot inside.
He said, “Congratulations.”
Gratz was relaxed. “I guess I have you to thank.”
“The Bible asks, ‘Does a leopard change its spots?’ If it were up to me, I’d keep you here. But it’s not up to me and there was a miscarriage of justice, and with that in mind, you’re certainly entitled to what you’re getting.”
Gratz glared at him. “If you’re pissed about my release, next time don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“You’re right about that.” Decker took in a breath and let it out. “Yves Guerlin Senior confessed to killing your son.”
“Not surprised,” Gratz said. “And I’m glad Guerlin was killed. You think I’m a bastard? He was a monster.”
“Not an honest man, that I’ll give you. But I don’t believe he murdered your son.”
“No?” Gratz leaned forward. “Then who did it?”
“You figure it out,” Decker said. “I’m not mentioning names. With you out of here, that’s a death sentence.”
Gratz grinned. “You’re not stupid. I’ll grant you that.”
“You know your son was murdered along with another man.”
“Yeah, Joe Boch’s son.”
“They were friends, although no one could figure it out. Joe Boch Junior—Boxer—was an idiot. Your son was a smart guy like his father. No telling taste, huh?”
Gratz was silent.
Decker said, “I keep thinking about why they were friends—ten years apart, different skill sets, different everything except they were both kind of smallish guys.” A pause. “As a matter of fact, they kind of looked alike.”
Gratz smiled. “Maybe.”
Decker said, “Did you tell your son that he and Joe were half brothers in one of his visits, or did he somehow figure it out?” No answer. “Jaylene’s dead, you know.”
Gratz shrugged. “Too bad for her.”
“I think Guerlin Senior had a soft spot for her. I think that’s why even though she was alive when he got to the house, he couldn’t kill her. Did they have a thing as well?”
“Could be. Jaylene had a lot of things with a lot of people.”
“Just like Margot Flint had lots of things with lots of people.”
“Not me,” Gratz said. “She went in for more . . . connected people. People who would do her good.”
“Anyone in mind?”
“Like you just told me. You figure it out.”
“Would this have anything to do with a certain detective with a chronically ill wife who was maybe after a little comfort himself?”
“You mean a certain up-and-coming detective who looked the other way when she and Mitch were about to be sentenced? I mean, someone fucked up with that, right?”
“Right,” Decker said. He suddenly felt very depressed. All the good work that Victor Baccus did with the Levine children probably arose from guilt. Because he had to have known that Margot Flint, the woman he let go, was behind the murders. “Those pictures I showed you of Margot Flint. They were sewn into Jaylene’s wheelchair. Looks to me like she kept them for insurance.”
“Maybe.”
“Insurance against Margot or insurance against Baccus?”
“Both probably.” Gratz grinned. “You never can have too much insurance.” He looked at the guard. “I’m done here.”
Decker stood. “Thanks for your time.”
“And thank you for getting me out of here.”
“Right.” Decker sighed.
A totally unsatisfactory case.
September came and Greenbury hummed with activity—students moving in for the next academic year. Tyler went back for his final year of law school and once again, Decker and Rina had the house to themselves. Although it took a few weeks for Decker to shake the blues, he soon became philosophical, which is the nature of survival in police work.
He never did hear from Lennie Baccus.
With the Jewish holidays approaching in a couple of weeks, Rina had begun to formulate her to-do lists. Lots of food and lots of cleaning, which meant lots of work. She was sitting at the dining room table, hair in her eyes because she wasn’t wearing a ponytail holder or a hat. She was chewing on the back of a pencil.
Decker looked over her shoulder. Then he sat down. “Isn’t there an easier way to do this?”
“Four married children and three grandchildren with another on the way, baruch hashem. And let’s not forget Gabe and Yasmine. You tell me how I’m supposed to relax.”
“Can we do a potluck? Everyone bring their own food?”
“No, we cannot do that,” Rina said. “Actually, it’ll be easier this year. None of the gang is coming out until Sukkoth. We’re free for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.”
“Except you’re hosting the Hillel lunches and the Yom Kippur break-the-fast dinner, if I’m not mistaken.”
Rina looked at her husband. With everything that had happened over the summer, she never realized how tired he looked. “You know, I haven’t agreed to anything. We can just keep it with the two of us.”
“That won’t work. You’ll see all the meal-less students and feel guilty.”
“You’re probably right.”
“But”—Decker lifted a finger—“if we were out of town, that wouldn’t be a problem, right?”
Rina looked up from her lists. “Right.” She paused. “What do you have in mind?”
He shrugged. “Anywhere but here. You choose.”
“Wow.” Rina put the pencil down. “Well, we can visit our mothers again. Better weather and a little more time?”
“You want us to spend Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in Florida? At a nursing home?”
“I guess that is a little impractical.” She thought for a second. “We can spend the holidays in Israel and then visit the mothers on the way back for a few days.”
Decker thought a moment. “Spending the holidays in a country where I don’t speak the language and don’t know a soul except my soulmate. That sounds perfect! Let’s do it.”
“You’re serious?” When he nodded, Rina grinned. “You’re so funny. I adore you.”
“Forever and ever?”
“Forever and ever.”
About the Author
FAYE KELLERMAN lives with her husband, New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Kellerman, in Los Angeles, California, and Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Also by Faye Kellerman
Bone Box
The Theory of Death
Murder 101
The Beast
Gun Games
Hangman
Blindman’s Bluff
The Mercedes Coffin
The Burnt House
The Ritual Bath
Sacred and Profane
The Quality of Mercy
Milk and Honey
Day of Atonement
False Prophet
Grievous Sin
Sanctuary
Justice
Prayers for the Dead
Serpent’s Tooth
Moon Music
Jupiter’s Bones
Stalker
The Forgotten
Stone Kiss
Street Dreams
Straight into Darkness
The Garden of Eden and Other Criminal Delights: A Book of Short Stories
With Jonathan Kellerman
Double Homicide
Capital Crimes
With Aliza Kellerman
Prism
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is ent
irely coincidental.
walking shadows. Copyright © 2018 by Plot Line, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
first edition
Cover design by Jae Song
Cover photographs: © Shimon Bar/Shutterstock (wall); © Ajay Bhaskar/Shutterstock (broken glass); © Olivier Le Queinec/Shutterstock (window)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
Digital Edition AUGUST 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-242531-7
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-242498-3
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