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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 it on speaker,” Radar said.
Decker complied. “Go ahead, Tyler. Captain is listening.”
“Hi, sir.”
“Good morning, Tyler,” Radar said. “I know you found a wallet. Brady Neil. He’s twenty-six and lives in Hamilton.”
“Do you know him, boss?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do we know if the kid has a record?”
Decker said, “We do, and he doesn’t. But I still want to talk to those boys.”
“Are we getting cooperation with Hamilton?” McAdams asked.
“This is the deal,” Radar said. “Chief Baccus wants full cooperation between the two police departments. No one has any problem with that. But Baccus wants us working with his daughter, Lenora: Lennie Baccus. She’s twenty-seven and was with Philadelphia PD for five years, including two as a detective, where she broke a very sophisticated GTA ring.”
Decker said, “What GTA ring was that?”
“I don’t know,” Radar answered. “If you and McAdams take her on, it will definitely grease the skids. And you both know that the murder could have happened in Hamilton and the dump was here. If they find a crime scene, it isn’t going to be our case anyway.”
“Sounds reasonable,” McAdams said. “We have an address from his license.”
“I’ve already looked it up. It seems that Brady lives—or lived—with his mother,” Decker said. “I’ll do the death notification after I’m done talking to this person.”
“Officer Baccus, Decker.”
“Officer Baccus, excuse me.” Decker took the phone off speaker.
McAdams said, “What do you need from me?”
“You can stay at the scene and help Kevin direct. Unless you want to do the notification.”
“You’re much more adroit with these things, boss. As hard as I try, I just don’t have the soul sensitivity.”
“McAdams, only you could saddle me with an onerous chore and make it sound like a compliment.”
“That’s me in a nutshell. I’m terrible at feelings but good with words.”
SHE WAS A beautiful woman with short blond hair surrounding a serene face. Her features were strong—defined chin, full lips, and almond-shaped, bright blue eyes. She appeared to be around five ten but more lanky than muscular. Dressed in a black suit and white shirt, she looked more executive than cop. Decker found her to be self-effacing, but not shy. They were talking in one of Greenbury’s four interview rooms because the detectives’ squad area was a big room of open desks and everyone could hear everyone else’s business. It was a good layout insofar as information sharing, but not so good for privacy.
About ten minutes into the conversation, Decker said, “I heard that you broke a very sophisticated GTA ring in Philadelphia.”
“My dad told you that?” Her laugh was nervous. Lennie had long red nails. She clicked them against one another before she spoke. “He exaggerates. More to make himself feel good, I think. He always wanted boys.”
“Tell me about the operation.”
“First of all, I was one of four. But we were all women, including the sergeant who led the operation. We worked really well as a team. The sergeant was a tough taskmaster, but she was fair. We got results. It turned out well for all of us.”
“Why’d you leave Philly, then?”
“Philly?” She smiled. “Are you a native?”
“No, but I know a few people there. Why’d you leave?”
A pained look came across her face. Click, click went the nails. A nervous habit.
She said, “This is going to sound very bad, but the truth is, I was smart enough but not mentally strong enough. I couldn’t stand the harassment from the guys.”
“Did you file suit?”
“I thought about it. I talked to my sergeant, and she said she’d support me. But we all know the drill. Once you file, you’re finished. Word gets around that you’re not a team player and no one wants to work with you anymore.” She shook her head. “I should have powered through it. But then Dad offered me a position here—more money, less stress.” She shook her head again. “I suppose I took the easy way out.”
“It’s good to know your limits.” He regarded her face. “I was told that your mother is ill. Not that I’m getting personal, but was that also a factor in your returning to Hamilton?”
“Mom has multiple sclerosis. She’s been ill for a long time. And I suppose maybe I considered her illness when I came back. I’m certainly helping Dad out with the care.” A pause. “I would love to work on a real homicide. The cases I’ve been getting aren’t very challenging.”
“You want big-city cases, you have to work in a big city. Most of what I do is routine and not interesting. And that’s why I came here. You can’t have it both ways.”
“Of course, you’re right,” Lenora said. “When you’re part of a team, nothing is too little or too menial.” Decker was quiet. She smiled and looked down. “I’d be happy getting the coffee and doughnuts.”
“I don’t like doughnuts,” Decker answered. “Look, Officer Baccus, Homicide is nasty. We deal with the worst parts of humanity, and it stays with you for a long, long time. I have no idea if you’re up for the job, and nothing you’ve told me convinces me one way or the other.”
“Call up my former sergeant. She’ll tell you that I really am very good at my job. Her name is Sergeant Cynthia Kutiel. If you give me your cell number, I’ll text you her number right now.”
“Do that.” When he heard the text beep on his phone, Decker said, “I’ll give her a call. I’ll also want you to talk to Detective McAdams and Detective Kevin Butterfield. They’ll be working with me. We all have to get along for this to be successful.”
“Of course.”
“Anything you’d like to ask me?”
“Nothing right now. I’m sure I’ll ask you lots of questions when we work together.” She made a face. “I mean if we work together.”
Decker regarded her again. “You know, it’s good to show confidence even if you don’t feel it. Nobody likes people who feel sorry for themselves.”
Instead of wilting, she said, “Point taken. I really want to learn, and I’m a workhorse. I’ll be a good asset to you.”
“Good. Detectives McAdams and Butterfield are with SID at the crime scene.” Decker gave her the address. “Go out there and have a look-see. I’ll tell McAdams that you’re coming.”
“Absolutely.” She stood and offered a hand. “Thank you very much.”
“This is a trial period, you know.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” Decker paused. “McAdams is studying to be a lawyer—at Harvard. He’s a good detective, but he’s young and brash. He doesn’t choose his words carefully. He can be very rude, but he thinks on his feet, and that’s important. You’ve got to be able to deal with that. The good news is he won’t come on to you, Lenora. That’s not him.”
“Then we’ll absolutely have no problem. And you can call me Lennie, by the way.”
“Fine, Lennie. And you can call me boss.”
CHAPTER 3 (#u821569d5-299d-5eb0-b818-90f997b5f7d2)
SO NOW I have to babysit a spoiled brat!”
“Ahem. Pot … kettle.”
“Spoiled I will agree to, but you can’t be a brat if you’ve been shot in the line of duty. That is just not right.”
“She worked five years with Philadelphia PD. She was in GTA as a detective.”
“GTA Philadelphia? As in your daughter?”
“The very same city. Cindy was her detective sergeant.”
“Wow. Did you tell her?”
“Baccus? Of course not. But I will call up Cindy after I get the death notification done. I just wanted to give you a heads-up about Baccus. She should be with you shortly.”
“Did she tell you why she quit Philadelphia PD?”
“Sexual harassment.”
“Ah, c’mon! You can’t be serious!”
“She’s beautiful, Harvard. I can completely believe it, but I’ll ask Cindy about it. At least, in Hamilton, no one is going to mess with the chief’s daughter.”
“But it does show a certain lack of resilience.”
“Yes, it does. She’s on her way. Be nice, Harvard. We need her on the team to get into Hamilton’s files.”
“If I’m too nice, then she’ll think I’m coming on to her.”
“Hmm, a valid point,” Decker admitted. “You’re right. Don’t be nice. Just be your usual obnoxious self.”
JENNIFER NEIL IDENTIFIED her son, Brady, from one of the photographs taken by the police photographer, saving her the agony of coming down and seeing the body in person. She was five foot two and thin as a reed. A little thing with a weathered face, making her look older than her forty-nine years. Her thin lips could have passed for another crease in her wrinkled face. Blue wet eyes were rimmed in red. She wore baggy jeans and a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt with a concert tour dated twenty years ago.
The woman looked utterly lost.
“Do you have someone I can call to be with you?” When she didn’t answer, Decker said, “A relative or friend?”
Slowly she shook her head. “When can I see him?”
“You don’t have to see him, Mrs. Neil. It’s best to remember him as he was.” She didn’t speak. “Are you sure there’s no one I can call?”
“No husband, if that’s what you mean.”
“Do you have other children?”
Her lip quivered. “A daughter. We don’t talk.” A pause. “I suppose I should call her.”
“I can do that for you if you want me to.”
She nodded.
“What’s her name?”
“Brandy.”
Decker thought, Brandy and Brady. Or maybe it was Brady and Brandy. “How old is she?”
“Thirty.”
Brandy and Brady. Jennifer had been just nineteen when she had her first child. “Do you have a phone number?”
“Gotta look it up. I don’t know if it’s current or not.” She left the living room. It was a small house, neat and clean but unadorned. The faux-leather furniture matched, the end tables were dusted, and the brown carpet was vacuumed though thin in some parts and stained in others. A moment later, Jennifer came back with a slip of paper and a number. Decker pocketed the paper and took out his notebook. “I know this is a horrible time to ask you questions, but it would be helpful if I knew a little bit about Brady.”
She said nothing. Just wiped her eyes.
“Brady was twenty-six?”
