McAdams wagged a finger. “You think Bennett might still be alive.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Am I right?”
“Despite what Ferdinand said, I don’t see a lunatic burying three bodies miles apart.”
“And I don’t see someone like Bennett returning to a scene of carnage to bury bodies. Besides, why would he go into hiding? He didn’t do anything wrong if it was a mercy killing.”
“That’s a very gray area, Harvard. Even if it was a mercy killing, Bennett could have thought that he’d be arrested for first-degree murder. Maybe he was so traumatized by everything that he dropped out. You don’t go through something like that and resume your normal life.”
“I can believe the drop-out part. But I’m skeptical that Bennett would have had the presence of mind to go back and bury the others all the while knowing that there was a maniac on the loose.”
“Maybe he didn’t go back right away. Or maybe I’m totally wrong.” Decker shrugged. “My main concern is finding out what happened to Bennett. I just want to talk to Harriet McCrae. Once she finds out about Velasquez, she’ll want to know the details anyway.”
“It can be done by phone.”
“It can. But I always found interviews in person more productive.”
“You’re on thin ice, boss. You don’t want to imply her boy may still be alive and then get a call from Kev that they found his remains.”
“You are absolutely right about that.” Decker exhaled. “Let’s go back to the station house. It’s possible that Radar won’t fund the trips.”
“I can pay for them.”
“I can pay, too, but I don’t want to.”
“You want company? You haven’t asked.”
“Sure, I’d love company.” Decker smiled. “Someone has to carry the luggage.”
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND why this can’t be done with a phone call.” Radar was looking at Decker from across his desk.
Decker said, “I can’t tease out information over the phone.”
“Then you’re going on a fishing expedition.”
“Sometimes you get a bite.”
“And sometimes you get bitten in the ass. I don’t want a distraught mother calling me up and complaining about you.”
“I can be subtle.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Economy round trip: two hundred sixty-five dollars if I book with an online service.”
“There goes the bake-sale money.”
“I promise Rina will make more cookies next year.”
“It was the rugelach that sold out. Man, that was good stuff.”
“It’s the cream cheese in the recipe,” Decker said. “Yes or no?”
“Go.”
“Can I take McAdams with me?”
“Why?”
“I took him with me the first time. I like consistency.”
“It’s not worth two hundred sixty-five dollars for consistency.”
“He’ll pay his own way.”
“That’s not the point.”
“He wants to come. I want him to come. If you wouldn’t have given me the cash, I was going to pay my own way. If you won’t give him the cash, I’ll split the fare with him.”
“Making me look like a cheap son of a bitch. Especially since the kid took a bullet in the line of service.”
“Two bullets actually.”
“The second was just a graze wound.” Radar scowled. “Yes, I’ll give you both the airfare and car rentals. You use your own cash for meals and incidentals … oh the hell with it. I’ll give you an extra fifty for meals. You go over that amount, you pay yourself.”
“That’ll go a long way in the Midwest. Thank you.”
“You’ve done a good job with this case.”
“Thanks, Mike, but we haven’t done anything other than discovering remains, and that was by accident.”
“Yeah, you really have done squat.” The captain smiled. “Where are you at with Bertram Lanz?”
“Not very far with that one either.”
“What about the parents? Have they contacted you?”
“No, and it’s been almost two weeks. I don’t believe they’re out of phone contact. They obviously don’t want to contact us or speak to us.”
“Any idea why?”
“The only thing I can think of is that maybe they’re paying off a ransom that specifies no police involvement. Other than that, I don’t have a clue.”
“This might help.” Radar handed Decker a thick padded mailing envelope. “It’s from Germany. It’s regarding Bertram Lanz.”
Decker took it and pulled out the papers. His eyes scanned the first few pages. “Not surprisingly, it’s in German. It looks like a police file.” He regarded Radar. “Does Lanz have a record?”
“Appears that way.”
“What for?”
“Don’t know.”
“Then where’d you get this?”
“From the BKA, which stands for Bundeskriminal-something. It’s a federal clearinghouse for criminal records. I just went from agency to agency until I got to the BKA, and they sent me a copy of whatever they had. Doesn’t your wife read German?”
“Not at a high-proficiency level.”
“Then take it to the university and get it properly translated.”
“Was Lanz’s crime a federal offense?”
“No idea. But if it was a serious crime, it may explain all the blood at Schulung’s house. See if you can get it translated before you go to Cleveland. Lanz’s case is less than two weeks old. The other is ten years old. Let’s get our priorities straight.”
“I HAVE PACKED two shirts already,” Decker said. “This is my extra in case I get one dirty.” He held them both up. “Which one?”
Rina was sitting on the bed going through Bertram Lanz’s file. It was ten o’clock on Saturday night. The weekend had been a sweet reprieve, but come the end of Shabbos, Peter once again turned into Detective Decker. Absently, she said, “The one on the left.”
“I like it but the material is a little hot.”
Still not looking up. “Then take the one on the right.”
“The other one is softer.”
“Then I have no answer for you.” She finally allowed her eyes to look at her husband’s face. “Do you want me to read this or not?”
“Of course I want you to read it. Why would I give it to you unless I wanted you to read it?”
“Then please let me read it. My German is marginal at best.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m getting it translated anyway.”
Rina plopped down the file. “Then why did you give it to me in the first place?”
“Because I couldn’t find a translator until tomorrow.”
“You won’t be here tomorrow.”
“Kevin will take it in. I thought you could give us a heads-up. Which shirt?”
“Peter, you’re a grown man.” She picked up the file and opened it to where she had left off. “You can pack without me.”
She was frustrated. Decker stifled a smile. “I am hassling you. I’m sorry.”
Rina didn’t answer. She was lost in translation. “Fahrlässige Tötung. Tod is ‘death.’ Tötung has something to do with death. Look up Tötung on your phone.”
Decker turned serious. “It was a murder charge?”
“‘Murder’ is Mord. Look up Tötung.” She spelled it for him.
“Just a minute.” A pause. “It means ‘killing.’” He looked up. “He killed someone.”
“Possibly. I wonder if this means ‘voluntary manslaughter’ or something like that.”
“That would be … hold on.” Decker tapped the words into his phone. “That would be freiwilliger …” He showed her the translation.
“Try the translation for ‘involuntary manslaughter.’”
“Okay …” Seconds passed. “Aha! You go, girl.”
“Did the charge stick?”
“It’s an arrest
record, honey, not a trial record.”
“Of course,” Rina said. “Let me see if I can wade through the circumstances.”
“Who’s the victim?”
“A man named Gerthard Perl. Sit down, please. You’re making me nervous standing over me.”
Decker sat on the bed next to her. He refrained from the temptation to look over her shoulder. Not that he could understand anything he’d see.
Rina furrowed her brow. “Krankenpfleger. Krankenschwester is a nurse. I think this must mean a male nurse. Krankenhaus is a hospital. Er arbeitete … er is ‘he’ and Arbeit means ‘work.’ Probably means he worked in a hospital. Und Er ging am Abend aus nach seine Schicht aus.” A pause. “Ging aus. Ging must be part of the verb gehen. I think this means he went out in the evening after Schicht, whatever that is.”
“Spell it,” Decker said. Rina complied and he said, “Shift.”
“Yes, that would make sense.” Rina mouthed the words as she bushwhacked through the German. “Schlagen … schlogen is ‘to hit’ in Yiddish. Okay, Bertram hit this guy. I don’t know if it was with a car?”
“Bertram can drive?”
“I can’t tell you that.” A pause. “I don’t see the word auto, which means ‘car.’” A pause. “Probably means he punched him.”
“He got into a fight?”
“Here we go. Faustkampf. Kamf is a ‘fight’ in Yiddish. I bet this is ‘fistfight.’”
“He got into a fistfight with the nurse?”
“Maybe.” She kept reading. “What’s the word for ‘voluntary manslaughter’ again?”
“Freiwilliger Totschlag.”
“Okay … he was arrested on charges of voluntary manslaughter in a fistfight. But later the charges were downgraded to involuntary manslaughter. I don’t know why. Maybe the nurse threw the first punch.” She put the file down. “You really need someone more fluent than I am.”
“You’ve been an enormous help, darlin’.” A pause. “It gives me a lot to think about. Where did this happen? I want to see if I can look this up on the internet.”
Rina told him the name of the town. “The date of the arrest was October … wait, it’s probably March tenth. They put the date before the month. It was six years ago. He was twenty-seven.”
“That corresponds almost to the time when Bertram Lanz came to America.”
“Fresh start?” Rina said.
“I’d say yes. It also could be why the parents are reluctant to contact me. They’ve already dealt with him before. Maybe they fear the worst.”
“Meaning?”
“There was blood in Elsie’s house, Rina.”
“You think Bertram killed someone?”
“I’d like to find him so I could ask him.”
Rina said, “Whatever he did in the past, they called it involuntary manslaughter.”
“That’s not the same as justifiable homicide.” Decker thought a moment. “We’re dealing with someone with diminished capacity. That’s for certain. But that doesn’t preclude a temper.”
“Why would he kill Elsie’s girlfriend? What was her name?”
“Pauline Corbett.” Decker stood up, packed the two shirts, and closed his suitcase. “There are thousands of reasons why people commit murder. All Bertram needed was one.”
CHAPTER 24
I KNEW YOU’D BE back.” Wanda Velasquez was standing in her parlor, facing a picture window that looked out over her lawn. Her back was turned so neither Decker nor McAdams could see her face. “As soon as I heard you found the Anderson boy, I figured Max couldn’t be far behind.” When she turned, her eyes were wet. “How did he die?”
Decker told her the minimum. “He was shot.” Until he had more answers, that was enough.
“Did he suffer?”
Probably. “He didn’t know what hit him, Wanda.”
“He didn’t beg for his life or anything.”
“I don’t think so, no.”
“And do you have any idea why he was shot?”
“Not yet. I’m so sorry, Wanda. The finality is always hard to process.”
She nodded, her eyes focused on the detectives. They were sitting on a sofa across from her. “I didn’t offer you anything to drink.”
“We’re fine,” Decker said.
“No, it’s not right.” She started to get up but then began to reel.
McAdams got to her first. He looked around. “I’ll get some water—”
“I’ll get it—”
“No, you sit. I’ll get it.”
“There’s a pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator.”
“I’ll be right back.” McAdams left the room.
Wanda took in a deep breath and let it out. She mumbled, “He’ll probably bring in the everyday glasses.”
Decker waited a moment. “Still light-headed?”
“I’ll survive.” She gave him a weak smile. “I suppose I should call Henry and leave a message. He’s in surgery.”
“On Sunday?” Decker asked.
“There was an emergency. Sick people don’t look at a calendar.”
“The man works hard,” Decker said.
“Very hard.” Wanda paused. “Do you have any idea who shot him?”
“Not yet.”
“Ten years ago. It could have been anyone. You haven’t found Bennett?”
“No.”
“Do you think he did it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think you’ll find his body?”
“We’re looking for it.”
“Then you’re assuming that someone else murdered all three boys?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“And it’s also possible that Bennett shot the other two?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think is more likely?” Wanda asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Was my boy buried?”
“Yes.” After McAdams came in with iced tea in three everyday glasses, Decker said, “Wanda was just asking if Max was buried.”
McAdams put the glasses on the table. He picked up a tumbler and offered it to Wanda. “Here you go. And yes, your son was buried.”
“So at least someone did the decent thing.” Wanda sipped her drink. It seemed to bring color back to her face. “Or he buried the boys because he didn’t want anyone to find them.” A pause. “How were the boys buried? Did they bring a shovel to the camping trip?”
“We’re looking into that,” McAdams said.
“Why would you take a shovel on a camping trip?”
“Seems odd to us as well.”
“But if it was a stranger, why would he take the time to bury them?”
“We don’t know,” Decker said.
Her eyes leaked tears. “My poor baby.”
“Is there anyone we could call, Wanda?”
“To be with me, you mean? No … no, thank you. I’m fine. I’ll wait for Henry.”
“Are you sure? Perhaps your daughter?”
“No, she’s working. I don’t want to disturb her until I’ve told Henry. When can I bring back my baby?”
“I’ll call you as soon as I know.” With that Decker stood up; McAdams followed suit. “I’ll keep you up to date, Wanda. And, of course, you can call us anytime. Do you still have our cards?”
“I threw them away.”
Decker held back a smile. “Then we’ll give you new ones.”
After she received the detectives’ cards, she said, “I didn’t think I’d need them. I didn’t think there was anything left to say. But I suppose until the case is solved, there’s a lot left to say. You will try to find out what happened, right?”
“We’ll work as hard as humanly possible,” McAdams said.
“We’ll work until there’s nowhere else to go,” Decker said.
She nodded. “I hope so.”
Decker knew she didn’t quite believe them. But he’d try his best to make her an acolyte.
ON THE WAY to the airport, McA
dams’s cell jingled. He looked at his phone window. “That’s Kevin.” He slid right. “Hey, I’m going to put you on speaker. Hold on … okay, say hello to the boss.”
“Hey, Deck.”
“What’s up?”
“The translator had to cancel. Some kind of emergency with his family. We’re going to try for tomorrow about eight.”
“We may even be back by then.”
“Then we’ll all go together.”
“Did you find the case on the internet?”
“No, I didn’t. I put in several calls to the police but haven’t gotten any callbacks. In the meantime, I’ve been trying to make sense of the report based on a computer translation and the information that Rina told you. As far as I can tell, lots of punches were thrown. I have a feeling that Bertram Lanz wasn’t the only one to be arrested. The file makes it sound like a drunken brawl.”
“Was Gerthard Perl drunk? From what we’ve read, he had just gotten off shift as a hospital nurse.”
“I don’t know if he was drunk or not. He was certainly in the bar. He might have said something to Bertram that set him off. I don’t want to say anything more because I’m using a translation that could be giving me misinformation. How did it go with Wanda and Henry Velasquez?”
“It was just Wanda,” McAdams said. “She expected news like this a long time ago.”
“Never easy though.”
“Never easy at all. We’re off to the airport to see Harriet McCrae.”
“Can I ask why? We have nothing to tell her.”
“I know.” Decker paused. “Just making contact.”
“That can be done by phone.”
“I’m in the area.”
“Not really. Saint Louis is out of the way. What are you hoping to find out?” A pause. “Deck, if you think we’re spinning our wheels by looking for McCrae’s remains, I’d be grateful if you’d let me know.”
“If I discover something, I’ll tell you. In the meantime, keep digging.”
THEY LANDED AT eight in the evening after an hour delay. After arriving at the hotel, they ate a quick room service dinner, and then went straight to bed. Twelve hours later they were driving to Barney and Harriet McCrae’s house near the university. It was deeper into the summer, and that meant soaring temperatures and near 100 percent humidity, even at ten in the morning. As hard as the car’s AC tried, it couldn’t take the moisture out of the air. The car windows dripped water. Behind the collar, Decker was hot and itchy.
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