Walking Shadows. Faye Kellerman
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they saw who did. The smartest thing would be to call them in as witnesses and see what they have to say.”
Radar agreed. “I’ll make a couple of phone calls. But without proof of what and who was involved, it gets sticky.”
“Like you said, the body may not have anything to do with the teens.”
“And we don’t know who it is?”
“The body? No idea. I’m waiting for McAdams or Butterfield to call me.”
“Maybe we should wait for an identity before I made the calls.”
“Tell Hamilton I just want to find out if the boys saw anything. Keep it simple.”
“And when it gets more complicated?”
“Not a problem.” Decker grinned. “I do complicated very well.”
GREENBURY IN JUNE was a month of seesaw weather from cool to warm and muggy and back to cool again. The Five Colleges of Upstate had just started summer sessions, and there was life on the streets. Graduation had been a couple of weeks ago and every inn and B and B had been booked, meaning that lots of seniors on Social Security had rented out a room for a little extra cash. Neither Decker nor his wife, Rina, wanted strangers paddling around the house in a bathrobe and slippers. Paddling was strictly his domain.
He had dashed out of the house earlier than usual. When he did that, he often came home for a morning coffee break, especially if Rina wasn’t working. Today he went home and found her out in the garden planting pots of mums, delphiniums, sunflowers, and gladioli bulbs that would make up her cutting garden. Next week would be the vegetables.
She looked up and then got up, brushing dirt off her denim skirt. Rina was five five and slim. She was now in her fifties. Life had softened her once angular face and features. She had small wavy lines on her forehead and laugh lines around her radiant jewel-blue eyes. Her hair was still thick and, for the most part, it was still dark. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Decker answered. “Time for a cup of coffee?”
“Sure. Everything okay?”
“Fine. Why do you ask?”
“You look like something unexpected happened and you’re waiting for the right moment to tell me.”
“Found a body. Male. Young. Don’t know who it is.”
“Ugh! The handiwork of the boys from Hamilton?”
“Don’t know. Am I interrupting you?”
“I’ve got all day. Let’s go inside. You can make the coffee while I wash up.”
Once seated with a caffeine fix a sip away, Decker described the scene in detail.
Rina said, “If the victim caught the boys vandalizing the mailboxes, don’t you think that murder would be an extreme reaction?”
“I’ve seen odder things.”
“Yes, but more likely, they’d just take off. And if they murdered the victim first, why bother knocking down the mailboxes afterward?”
“I don’t know who the victim is. I’m just wondering if it’s one of the boys, in which case I’d need to talk to the others anyway—” His cell rang. He glanced at it as he extracted it from his pocket. “It’s Tyler.”
“Go take it.”
“Thanks.” He walked into the living room and depressed the button. “Yo.”
“We’ve got a wallet and a driver’s license. Brady Neil. Twenty-six, five eight, one hundred fifty-five pounds.”
“A little guy.”
“Everyone to you is a little guy.”
“Address?”
“It’s in Hamilton.” McAdams gave him the street and the numbers.
“Okay. Does the face look like the picture on the license?”
“Do you ever look like your picture on your driver’s license?”
“McAdams—”
“His face was distorted by the blow, but it’s him. I’ll take a picture of his face and of the license and text them both to you.”
“Good. If there are parents in the picture, they can ID him from pictures. Save them a trip to the morgue. What did the coroner say about the time and cause of death?”
“Last night around blah to blah.”
“That specific, huh. What about the cause? Anything other than what I saw with the naked eye?”
“His skull was bashed in, but she wouldn’t commit to a cause until she’s done an autopsy.”
“Who is she?”
“Fiona Baldwin. Do you know her?”
“No.”
“That makes two of us. Let me text you those pictures. I can’t do it and talk at the same time.”
McAdams hung up. A moment later, Radar had buzzed in.
“Where are you?”
“Home having a cup of coffee before I head out to the scene.”
“Come to the station house. We need to talk.”
“This doesn’t sound good.”
“See you in five.” Radar hung up.
Decker sighed, came back into the kitchen. “The captain wants to talk.”
“About what?”
“Probably about me not getting what I asked for.”
“Permission to round up the boys and look at their files?”
“On the money.”
“Well, there are plenty of cats in trees and little old ladies and gents crossing streets to keep you busy.” When Decker bit his lip, Rina stood up and kissed him. “Radar is a good guy. If he doesn’t want to confront Hamilton, I’m sure he has a good reason. Go. I’ll see you tonight. Or maybe I won’t if you get what you want for this case. Either way, it’s a win-win for you.”
“VICTOR BACCUS IS a reasonable guy,” Radar told Decker. “I think he’s more than happy to have an experienced homicide detective take over.”
Decker paused. “Obviously you could have told me that over the phone. What’s the catch?”
“He has a daughter on the force—”
“No way. I’m not babysitting someone until I know what’s going on.”
“She was with Philadelphia PD for five years, two of them as a detective.”
Decker made a face. “She goes from a major city to Hamilton? She screwed up something.”
“Well, she’s coming over, so you can ask her yourself.”
“Mike!”
“Look, Baccus is a good man, Pete. His wife has been sick for a while, so maybe that’s why the daughter came back. Don’t prejudge until you know what’s going on.”
“It sounds like I don’t have any choice.”
“You don’t if you want the case.”
Decker’s phone rang. “It’s McAdams.”
“Take it.”
Decker said, “What’s going on?”
“Put