Walking Shadows. Faye Kellerman

I bust open the lock?”

      Her eyes started to water. “Sure.”

      “Thank you.” She was quiet. Decker said, “Mrs. Neil, would you know the names of any of Brady’s friends?”

      “No. The basement has a private entrance. He came and went as he pleased. I know that occasionally he had people down there. I could hear voices. But that’s all I know.”

      “Male? Female?”

      “Mostly male, but a woman now and then.”

      Decker mentioned the names of the thugs who were probably responsible for the mailbox vandalism. “Any of those names ring a bell?”

      Jennifer shook her head no.

      “How about friends from when he was a teenager?”

      She gave the question some consideration. “You might try Patrick Markham or maybe Brett Baderhoff. Those are the only two I can think of. You also can try his sister. I’m not on speaking terms with her. But that don’t mean that the two of them didn’t talk.”

      HE NEEDED A pair of bolt cutters to break open the padlock. Once Decker was inside, he wondered why all the secrecy. It was an ordinary living area, only much neater than he had expected from a young adult living at home.

      The space was divided into a small living room with a kitchenette. It had a two-burner cooktop and an apartment fridge. No oven. Brady had a sofa, a couple of big chairs, and a big-screen TV. Jennifer was right. He had a massive game console set. No photographs of himself or anyone else. Off the living area was a shower, toilet, and sink.

      The bedroom was taken up by a queen bed. It had two doors, one from the living area and the other that emptied into a one-car garage that also held a washer/dryer. The sole vehicle inside was a maroon Ford Focus that was around five years old. Brady may have owned the car, and that may have put him a step ahead of his mother, but it wasn’t exactly a showpiece.

      Decker went back inside and began his search in earnest. He checked drawers and cabinets. He looked inside the pillows’ cases and pockets. He peered under the mattress and did find a half-dozen photographs of a much younger Brady with a girl. He looked around fifteen, the girl a few years older. The boy had dark brown hair and intense dark brown eyes. The girl was a blonde with blue eyes. The boy’s stare pierced through even though the couple was mugging for the camera.

      The inspection took about thirty minutes because Brady kept a spare apartment. He wasn’t much of a drinker—a couple of six-packs in the fridge. And not much of a doper except for a dime bag of weed. No hidden pills. No hidden powders and no drug paraphernalia. There were no closets brimming with electronics and no stash of phones. If he was involved in illegal activity, he was operating elsewhere.

      Jennifer was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. She said, “Find anything?”

      “A little marijuana.” Decker climbed the steps. “Nothing that makes me think he’s dealing.”

      She nodded. “What does it look like down there?”

      “It’s pretty tidy. If he was having wild parties, he cleaned up after himself.”

      “I don’t think I can go down there just yet.” Her eyes watered up. “I suppose I’ll have to do it eventually … especially if I’m gonna …”

      Her words drifted off. Decker filled in the blanks: if I’m gonna rent it out. Jennifer was a little short on maternal feelings, but there didn’t seem to be open hostility between mother and son as far as he could tell. He took out a photograph. “Mrs. Neil, could you tell me who’s in the picture with Brady?”

      “That’s my daughter.”

      “Brandy?”

      “Yes.” A pause. “I remember this picture. It was during the summer, and we were visiting a corn maze. I took the photo on Brandy’s phone.”

      “How old were they?”

      “Sixteen and twelve. Shortly after that, Brandy ran away after a blowout fight. I didn’t even try to stop her.”

      “Where’d she go?”

      “No idea.”

      “What about her dad?”

      “Not likely. He’s been in jail for the last twenty years. He’s up for parole soon, but he probably won’t get it. The family still lives in town.”

      “The family of the victim?”

      She nodded.

      “What’s he in for?”

      “Murder.” A pause. “Double murder. A man and his wife who owned a jewelry store. They weren’t supposed to be there when he did the job. I mean, robbery is wrong no matter what, but he didn’t go in with the idea of murdering the old folks.”

      “I understand. Do you know if either Brandy or Brady have visited their dad in jail?”

      “No idea.”

      “Okay.” A pause. “And you don’t know where Brandy lives?”

      “No. Out of the blue, she called me about five years ago just to tell me she was okay. She gave me her phone number. Told me not to call unless it was an emergency. I don’t know if this is an emergency, but I think she’d want to know. I’d want to know.”

      “I’ll call Brandy.”

      “Thank you again.”

      Decker paused. “Do you remember the names of the victims your ex murdered?”

      “Lydia and Glen Levine. Levine’s jewelry store. The business was taken over by the son. He was there during the robbery, hiding in the closet, and was the key witness against Brandon and his partner.” A pause. “I know this is going to sound stupid, but I’m going to tell you anyway. My ex and his partner, Kyle, swore up and down that all they did was tie up the couple, that they both were alive when they left. They swore up and down that someone else must have fired the shots after they left. It’s probably bullshit, but I don’t know … Brandon was a lot of things. I never pictured him a killer.”

      “What did the witness say? The son?”

      “That he was there and he saw my ex and Kyle shoot his parents.”

      “But you don’t believe him?”

      “He could have shot them after Brandon and Kyle left. And, on the stand, it came out that the son was a party kid, that he spent a lot of money, and there was even talk about his parents cutting him off. But since Brandon and Kyle were caught with the stolen goods, it was pretty much open and shut for conviction.”

      “What was the son’s name?”

      “Gregg Levine. Like I said, he still runs the place.”

      “Okay. Were you married to Brandon Neil at the time of the robbery?”

      “My last name is Neil. He’s Brandon Gratz. Yes, we were married. That’s why I couldn’t be made to testify against him.”

      Decker nodded. “Twenty years is a long time in jail. But it’s a light sentence for a double murder. Was that the recommendation of the jury?”

      “Jury recommended life without parole, but the judge gave them twenty each with a possibility of parole. But like I said, they probably won’t get out.” She caught his eye. “You think there’s something to what Brandon was saying, about him being set up?”

      “I have no idea.” Decker smiled. “I might want to come back and search Brady’s room again. Would that be okay?”

      “Yeah, but not forever, you know. I got plans.” She looked down. “I need the money.”

      “I understand, Ms. Neil. Thank you for your time and help.”

      “Detective,