Decker said, “How about if I go down in the basement and Detective McAdams and you search the attic?”
“No offense, but we stick together. I don’t want you poking around into my things.” Wanda crossed her arms over her chest. “Those are the rules.”
“Lucky for you, we’re good at following rules.” Decker smiled and stood up. “One more thing. Did Max own a gun?”
“A gun?” A look of horror. “No! Was Zeke shot?”
“We don’t know. But as I told you, he had some shattered bones.”
“Oh Lord!” She shook her head. “All I can tell you is that Maxwell never owned a gun! He hated guns.”
“Could Bennett have talked him into buying one?” Decker asked.
“No.” Her lip quivered. “Shall we get on with it?”
Decker nodded. “You lead and we’ll follow.”
“He did not own a gun!” Wanda muttered.
“I believe you,” Decker said.
He thought: The question is, Wanda, do you believe you?
TWO HOURS OF searching produced a very thin file with a cover letter and a two-page synopsis report. Decker looked the papers over while sitting on the living room couch. McAdams was reading along with him, looking over his arm. Wanda was sitting across from them, stoic and silent.
The synopsis said the following:
Oliver Mandella had contacted the police and questioned them about the case.
He had contacted the school and had spoken to some of Max’s professors.
He had spoken to the parents of the two other missing boys.
He had talked to search crews.
There was nothing in his conclusion that would further this case. But without his field notes, Decker didn’t know exactly what he did or didn’t do. He said, “Would you mind if I contacted him? This file is sparse.”
Wanda hesitated. “I think Mandella is dead.” A beat. “Actually, I know he’s dead.”
“Okay,” Decker said. “Do you know if someone took over his business?”
“No, I don’t.”
“If we could locate his files and notes, do we have your permission to look at them? Sometimes details that don’t seem important might become very important.”
“Sure, but don’t hold your breath. We expected a lot. We got nothing.” Wanda looked at the ceiling. “The truth is, about five years ago my husband got fed up and threw out everything that Mandella had sent us during the course of his investigation. Henry wanted to move on, and this was the best way he could do it. Not a thought about how I felt. I managed to save what I’ve given you. My husband is a surgeon and has a surgeon’s practicality—if it’s bad news, cut it out.” Again, her eyes grew moist. “Don’t think poorly of him. It’s just his way of dealing with this horrible situation.”
“We’re not here to judge,” McAdams said.
“Henry would not approve of your digging around.”
“Even if it helped us find out what happened to your son?” Decker said.
“Maxwell is gone, Detective. No amount of knowledge will bring him back. Henry has washed his hands of it.”
“And you?”
“I’d love to give my son a proper burial. So please … go ahead and search. Just talk to me if you call, okay?”
“Fair enough.”
“Are you going to talk to the McCraes?”
“Yes.”
“Send them our best.” A few seconds passed. “I didn’t like Bennett. But he seemed to be the only friend that Maxwell had. For that, I’m grateful to him.”
CHAPTER 17
THEY WALKED TO the car. Once behind the wheel, Decker hesitated before turning on the ignition. Instead, he made a call to what once was Oliver Mandella’s office. He hung up after a five-minute conversation. “The man is indeed dead.”
McAdams was playing a game on his phone. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What?”
“The private eye that Wanda Velasquez hired. He’s dead.”
“Too bad.” McAdams logged out of the game. “What happened to his old files and field notes?”
“All files five years or older were destroyed by the PI who took over the practice.”
“Then we have nothing except the synopsis, which is useless.”
“At least we know the Velasquezes hired a private detective. That says to me that they were trying to find him at some point. Then Dad wants everything thrown away. He wants to move on. I’m not judging but parents never move on.” Decker started the motor. “What do you make of Wanda’s statement that if something bad happened, it was Bennett’s fault?”
“Yeah, I caught that. Her blaming Bennett for whatever happened.” McAdams paused. “Could be she knows more than she’s letting on.”
“Her son is still alive and he told her everything?”
“It’s a theory,” McAdams said.
“It’s a theory based on nothing,” Decker said. “But the thought did cross my mind.”
McAdams said, “Both families moved from Queens at roughly the same time. Here’s another theory based on nothing, but maybe both boys are still alive and the families have relocated to get away from prying eyes.”
“Sure, that’s possible. After all, we know that someone buried Zeke.” Decker shrugged. “Hopefully, we’ll get a better feel after we visit Bennett’s parents.”
McAdams said, “Max may not have liked Zeke. But why would Bennett kill him?”
“No idea.” Decker paused. “We can hint at the boys being alive to the McCraes and see how they react.”
McAdams said nothing.
After a few seconds, Decker said, “Okay, Harvard. What gives? You looked bothered.”
“It’s a little perverse to hint to grieving parents that their son might still be alive.”
“We’re not telling them that. We’re just saying that we haven’t found Bennett’s body. So without further evidence, there’s a slim possibility that he’s still alive.”
“It might give them false hope. Especially coming from the police. If you think he’s really alive, then go for it. If you’re not sure, I wouldn’t hint at anything.”
“You’re right,” Decker said.
“Are my ears actually hearing correctly?”
“Harvard, I’m actually saying that you are right. We’ll do the interview straightforward. We found Zeke, we haven’t yet found Bennett or Max. We’re looking for whatever information the parents can provide.”
“I think it’s more sensitive,” McAdams said.
Decker let out a small laugh. “What happened to you? You’re suddenly Mr. Humanitarian?”
“And that’s bad? What’s wrong with realizing how vulnerable survivors of crime are?”
“Nothing. Take it easy.” Decker put the car in park and drove off. “I was just wondering what brought about all the change?”
“I’m not a total boor.”
“Never said you were.”
“Although I’ve had my boorish moments,” McAdams admitted. “People do change. In my case, it’s been a slow evolution.”
“Maybe it’s realizing you’re not invincible?” When McAdams didn’t answer, Decker said, “Sorry. That was out of line.”
“No, it’s fine. The truth is, Peter, it’s more like realizing that Peter Decker is not invincible. That was really scary.”
The car went silent.
“More for you than for me,” Decker said. “I barely knew what was happening. Just that all of a sudden, I was knocked down. You’re the one who got shot.”
McAdams said, “Better me than you, boss.”
Decker jerked the steering wheel to the right and pulled the car over to the curb. “Listen, Harvard, and listen up good. If it’s ever a choice between you or me, you choose you. I’ve lived most of my life. And it’s been a great one. You’re almost young enough to be my grandson. Besides, I’m not living with survivor’s guilt, okay?”
“I don’t know, Peter. I don’t think I could take the survivor’s guilt, either. Wha
t would I tell your wife?”
“Since we’re both among the breathing, how about we both don’t go there,” Decker said.
“You brought it up.”
“Yes, I did. I needed you to hear me. Now let’s change the subject.”
“Whatever you want, Old Man.”
“Very funny. FYI, you little punk, I’m not ready for the glue factory.”
“I concur.” McAdams smiled. “You still have many more years to make my life miserable.”
THEY ATE SANDWICHES in their room at an airport motel. Depressing atmosphere that befitted a depressing morning. Decker thought about the case, how there were so many victims in a single crime. He was deep in thought, his brain barely registering McAdams’s voice as he spoke to Kevin Butterfield over the phone. Finally, Tyler hung up.
“Kev just returned from SID in Hamilton. He met up with a tech and they had a look at Elsie Schulung’s car. The problem isn’t going to be collecting evidence, it’s sorting the wheat from the chaff.”
“Did they find anything meaningful?”
“Everything’s meaningful. It’s filled with hair, fibers, a couple of blankets, food wrappers, papers, receipts, dirt, blood—”
“Blood?” Decker looked up from his papers. “How much blood?”
“More like from a cut than a stab wound—Kevin’s words, not mine. One thing he did say is that the car wasn’t a crime scene. SID will analyze the samples tomorrow. Kev also said he’d coordinate with Sergeant Quay at Baniff PD to see if the blood in the car is a match for the blood found at Schulung’s house. There are also a ton of prints that need to be looked at.”
Decker said, “Both Kathrine and Bertram have print cards on file with their residential homes. Elsie’s prints were taken when she got the job at Loving Care. Let’s run hers through AFIS, see if she ever went by another name and did something criminal.”
“That’s a good idea,” McAdams said. “Want me to have Kev do it now?”
Decker said, “Sure, he can run it through what we have on file, but the data is limited. We might need a bigger base. We should also ask Butterfield to look for blond hairs.”
“You’re thinking that Kathrine Taylor has been in the car?”
“Maybe.”
“Boss, if the car was dropped off at the same time that Bertram went missing, how would Kathrine’s hair be in the car? She was picked up at her residential home after Bertram went missing.”
“Right,” Decker admitted. “You know, it could be that Kathrine had been in Schulung’s car before she went missing. Remember, Elsie had a photograph of the two of them. Did they check the trunk?”
“It was as dirty as the rest of the car, but no obvious signs of something bad.”
Decker nodded, deep in thought. “Maybe that’s why Kathrine went with Elsie willingly. She knew the nurse from before.”
McAdams agreed. “Is Quay investigating Elsie’s private life?”
Decker said, “He wouldn’t be much of a detective if he didn’t.”
“Has he contacted you at all?”
“Nope. Could be he hasn’t found much. Or he’s not a good sharer.”
McAdams didn’t speak for a moment. “I’m still trying to figure out how two disabled adults might figure into this mess at Schulung’s house.”
“Maybe Bertram was there when it happened,” Decker said. “Bertram saw Elsie arguing with someone and was scared for her. He came to her rescue and went overboard.”
McAdams said, “Or maybe Elsie called him up for help after the fact. She picked him up at Loving Care and brought him to the house. Together, they cleaned up the mess.”
Decker said, “Except that we figured that the mess at Schulung’s place preceded Bertram’s disappearance from the diner.”
“Yes, of course.” McAdams shrugged. “Then we’re back to our other theory. Elsie picked Bertram up from Loving Care in the middle of the night, took him to her place, and together they cleaned up the mess. For helping her out, Elsie offered Bertram a reward.”
“Kathrine.”
“Exactly. But Elsie knew they couldn’t take off together that night. Too many fingers pointing in her direction. Besides, vanishing would take careful planning. So, Elsie brought him back to Loving Care and told him to go on the field trip. They planned to rendezvous when the group stopped at the diner.”
Decker furrowed his brow. “This is what I’m having trouble with. Why would Elsie leave her car so close to the diner, knowing that there was a good chance we’d find it? It would immediately throw suspicion on her.”
“Good question,” McAdams said. “And if she wanted to exchange vehicles, there are many easier spots to have a rendezvous. Leaving her car in the woods just doesn’t make sense. Unless you had to bury a body in the woods before you took off.”
“Whose body?”
“The body that left all that blood in Elsie’s house—Bertram or Kathrine or maybe both. Or someone else altogether.”
“Didn’t Kevin just say that the car wasn’t a crime scene?”
“Maybe it wasn’t the primary crime scene, but if the body was wrapped well enough, there wouldn’t be evidence immediately discernible to the naked eye. The car hasn’t been fully processed yet.”
Decker paused. “I have no evidence for this, but my intuition tells me that Bertram and Kathrine are with Elsie and they’re alive. So if there is a body buried in the woods, it doesn’t belong to either one of them.”
“You think that because …”
“Right, I think that because …” Decker said.
McAdams made a face. “If they’re not dead, Elsie would have to feed them, clothe them, house them, make sure they don’t talk to anyone. My brother would usually get stares from people. But they usually address their questions to me. Most of the time, adults averted their eyes. Keeping them quiet wouldn’t be a challenge.”
“Where the hell is Elsie? She changed cars. Her phone is off, so there’s no way to track her.”
“What about credit cards?”
“Quay told me that no charges have been made on Elsie’s cards since Bertram disappeared. People usually surface when they need money.”
McAdams said, “If Bertram has enough cash on him, that wouldn’t happen for a while. Do we know if Bertram or Kathrine has a credit card?”
“Bertram has one,” Decker said. “His records haven’t come in so I don’t know if it’s been used.”
McAdams said, “Kev said he’d coordinate with several police departments near Mangrove to see if they can get a sighting of them.”
“It’s worth a try but the odds are slim.” Decker said, “I’m not usually an optimistic person in kidnapping cases. Within the first six hours, the victim is dead. For some reason, I feel they’re still alive.”
“I agree. Having those photographs … Elsie has to be emotionally attached.” McAdams looked out the window. “What’s our next step?”
“We keep doing what we always do,” Decker said. “Plug away and hope for a break.”
THE CELL CHIMED and Rina looked at the window while rocking the stroller. The baby was taking a long nap, God bless. She tapped the green button. “Hi, Gabe. What’s up?”
“It’s official. I checked with their hotel. She’s gone. They’re all gone.”
“Why are you surprised? Your mom said she was leaving for California. She’ll probably call you when she gets there.”
“She didn’t even bother to say good-bye.”
Poor kid. Abandonment all over again. Rina said, “If Devek really does owe that much money, it’s certainly possible that she went into hiding again.”
“That could be. Her phone is dead.” A pause. “Rina, I can barely hear you. Are you outside?”
“Yes, I am,” Rina said. “Where are you?”
“Home. Why?”
“I’m in New York. Do you want me to come over?”
“Sure.” A pause. “What are you doing in New York?”
“Peter’s out of to
wn for a couple of days. I thought I’d come back and spend some time with the grandchildren.”
“Where are you?” Gabe asked.
“In Brooklyn. At the moment, I’m at a park.”
“I need to get out. I’ll come to you.”
“Are you sure?” Rina said. “I’ll be in Manhattan later on to visit Hannah.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Rina said, “It’s almost naptime. Let me drop the kids back off and we can meet somewhere in about an hour. I can use a little break as well. There’s a bakery about two blocks from Sammy’s apartment. I think it’s called Breadstuff. I’ll text it to you.”
“Perfect.”
Sixty minutes later they sat facing each other, Gabe nibbling on a croissant and Rina breaking apart an almond bear claw. She picked off the icing as she regarded her foster son. He looked despondent. He was even dressed for depression: gray T-shirt, gray linen pants, gray Vans. Rina understood his feelings, although Terry’s disappearance was not unexpected. She came and went by whim.
Gabe sighed. “I just wish she wouldn’t call me anymore. She only calls when she needs something.” He looked up. “I’m probably not being fair. But why should I be fair? She’s a pain in the ass. I should cut her loose, but I’d miss Juleen and Sanjay. Not that they’d miss me much. We don’t have much of a relationship.”
“Not true,” Rina said.
“I only see them over the computer.”
“How often?”
“Once a week maybe.”
“Often enough,” Rina said. “You know, when I was young, I had first cousins who lived out of state. Hardly ever saw them, but when I did, it was like we forgot about the passage of time. That’s the way it is with relatives.” Rina sipped coffee. “I’ve seen the way they look at you. You’re their big brother. They idolize you.”
“Well, now they’re gone. And my closest living blood relative is a hit man who runs his own little village of brothels. Actually, I own them. He can’t own them because he’s a felon. If that ever got out, I’d lose everything. No one wants to associate classical music with sex workers.”
“People are pretty tolerant.”
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