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Gone, But Not Forgotten Page 16


  “Thanks, I will.”

  The guard handcuffed Darius. Betsy glanced toward the back of the courtroom. Lisa Darius was standing near the door, talking to Nora Sloane. Lisa glanced toward Betsy. Betsy smiled. Lisa did not smile back, but she did nod toward her. Betsy raised a hand to let Lisa know she would be right with her. Lisa said something to Sloane. Sloane smiled and patted Lisa’s shoulder, then left the courtroom.

  “I’m going to talk to Lisa for a moment,” Betsy told Darius. Lisa was waiting just inside the door, looking nervously through the glass at the waiting reporters.

  “That woman said she’s working with you on an article for Pacific West,” Lisa said.

  “That’s right. She’s going to tag along while I try Martin’s case to see how I work.”

  “She said she’d like to talk to me. What should I do?”

  “Nora seems responsible, but you make up your own mind. How are you holding up?”

  “This is terrible. The reporters won’t leave me alone. When I moved to Daddy’s house I had to sneak out of the estate through the woods so they wouldn’t know where I was going.”

  “I’m sorry, Lisa. This isn’t going to get any easier for you.”

  Lisa hesitated, then she asked, “Will the judge let Martin out on bail?”

  “There’s a good chance he’ll have to. The State’s evidence has been pretty weak, so far.”

  Lisa looked worried.

  “Is something troubling you?”

  “No,” Lisa answered too quickly.

  “If you know anything about this case, please tell me. I don’t want any surprises.”

  “It’s the reporters, they’ve really gotten to me,” Lisa said, but Betsy knew she was lying.

  “We’re ready,” the guard told Betsy.

  “I’ve got to talk to Martin. He wants you to visit him.”

  Lisa nodded, but her thoughts seemed far away.

  “Who is Nancy Gordon?” Betsy asked Darius. They were sitting next to each other in the narrow confines of the courthouse jail visiting room.

  “One of the detectives on the task force. I met her the night Sandy and Melody died. She interviewed me at the house. Gordon was engaged to another cop, but he was killed a few weeks before the wedding. She was still grieving when I joined the task force and she tried to help me deal with my grief.

  “Nancy and I were thrown together on several occasions. I didn’t realize it, but she took my friendliness as something else and, well …” Darius looked into Betsy’s eyes. Their knees were almost touching. His head bent toward her. “I was vulnerable. We both were. You can’t understand what it feels like to lose someone you love like that, until it happens to you.

  “I became convinced Waters was the rose killer and I did a stupid thing. Without telling anyoone, I started following him. I even staked out his house, hoping I’d catch him in the act.” Darius smiled sheepishly. “I made a mess of things and almost blew the investigation. I was so obvious, a neighbor called the police to complain about this strange man who was camped outside their house. The police came. I felt like an idiot. Nancy bailed me out. We met at a restaurant near the police station and she let me have it.

  “By the time we’d finished eating, it was late. I offered to drive her home because her car was in for repairs. We’d both had a few beers. I don’t even remember who started it. The bottom line is, we ended up in bed.”

  Darius looked down at his hands, as if he was ashamed. Then he shook his head.

  “It was a stupid thing to do. I should have known she would take it too seriously. I mean, it was good for us to have someone to spend the night with. We were both so lonely. But she thought I loved her, and I didn’t. It was too soon after Sandy. When I didn’t want to continue the relationship, she grew bitter. Fortunately Waters was caught soon after that and my involvement with the task force ended, so there was no reason for us to see each other. Only, Nancy couldn’t let go. She called me at home and at the office. She wanted to meet and talk about us. I told her there was no ‘us,’ but it was hard for her to accept.”

  “Did she accept it?”

  Darius nodded. “She stopped calling, but I knew she was bitter. What I can’t understand is how she could possibly think I killed Sandy and Melody.”

  “If the judge lets Page testify,” Betsy said, “we’ll soon find out.”

  CHAPTER 12

  “Let me tell you how I see it, Mrs. Tannenbaum,” Judge Norwood said. “I know what the Constitution says about confronting the witnesses and I’m not saying you don’t have a point, but this is a bail hearing and the issues are different at trial. What Mr. Page is trying to do is convince me he’s got so much evidence a guilty verdict at the trial is almost a sure thing. He thinks some of this trial evidence is going to come from this missing detective or from someone else in New York. I’m going to let him tell me what the evidence is, but I’m also going to take into account that he doesn’t have his witness and may not be able to produce her, or these other detectives, at trial. So, I’ll decide what weight to give to this testimony, but I’m going to let it in. If you don’t like my ruling, I don’t blame you. I might be wrong. That’s why we have appeals courts. But, right now, Mr. Page can testify.”

  Betsy had already made her objections for the record, so she said nothing more when Alan Page was sworn in.

  “Mr. Page,” Randy Highsmith asked, “the evening before the bodies of Victoria Miller, Wendy Reiser, Laura Farrar and an unknown male were unearthed at a construction site owned by the defendant, did a woman visit you at your residence?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who was this woman?”

  “Nancy Gordon, a detective with the Hunter’s Point Police Department in New York.”

  “At the time of Detective Gordon’s visit were the details surrounding the disappearances of the three Portland women widely known?”

  “To the contrary, Mr. Highsmith. The police and the district attorney’s office weren’t certain of the status of the missing women, so we were treating them as missing persons cases. No one in the press knew of the links between the cases and the husbands were cooperating with us by not divulging details of the disappearances.”

  “What were the links you spoke of?”

  “The black roses and the notes that said ‘Gone, But Not Forgotten.’ ”

  “What did Detective Gordon say that led you to believe she had information that could be useful in solving the mystery surrounding these disappearances?”

  “She knew about the notes and the roses.”

  “Where did she say she had acquired this knowledge?”

  “Ten years ago in Hunter’s Point, when an almost identical series of disappearances occurred.”

  “What was her connection with the Hunter’s Point case?”

  “She was a member of a task force assigned to that case.”

  “How did Detective Gordon learn about our disappearances and the similarities between the cases?”

  “She told me she received an anonymous note that led her to believe that the person who was responsible for the Hunter’s Point murders was living in Portland.”

  “Who was this person?”

  “She knew him as Peter Lake.”

  “Did she give some background information on Peter Lake?”

  “She did. He was a successful lawyer in Hunter’s Point. He was married to Sandra Lake and they had a six-year-old daughter, Melody. The wife and child were murdered and a ‘Gone, But Not Forgotten’ note and black rose were found on the floor near the mother’s body. Lake had a lot of political clout and the mayor of Hunter’s Point ordered the police chief to put him on the task force. Lake soon became the primary suspect, though he was not aware of that fact.”

  “Have the prints of Peter Lake been compared to the fingerprints of Martin Darius?”

  “Yes.”

  “With what results?”

  “Martin Darius and Peter Lake are the same person.”

  Highsmi
th handed the clerk two fingerprint cards and a report from a fingerprint expert and introduced them into evidence.

  “Mr. Page, did Detective Gordon tell you why she believed the defendant murdered the Hunter’s Point women?”

  “She did.”

  “Tell the court what she told you.”

  “Peter Lake had a connection to each of the women who disappeared in Hunter’s Point. Gloria Escalante sat on one of Lake’s juries. Samantha Reardon belonged to the same country club as the Lakes. Anne Hazelton’s husband was an attorney and the Lakes and Hazeltons had been to some of the same Bar Association functions. Patricia Cross and Sandra Lake, Peter’s wife, were both in the Junior League.

  “Detective Gordon met Lake the evening Sandra and Melody Lake were murdered. This was the first time a body was discovered. In all the other cases, when the women disappeared, the note and rose were found on the woman’s pillow in her bedroom. None of these notes had fingerprints on them. The note found at Lake’s house had Sandra Lake’s prints on it. The detectives believed that Sandra Lake discovered the note and was killed by her husband so she would not connect him to the disappearances when the notes were made public. They also believed Melody saw her mother killed and was murdered because she was a witness.”

  “Was there a problem with the time that Peter Lake reported the murders to the police?”

  “Yes. Peter Lake told the police that he discovered the bodies right after he entered the house, that he sat down on the steps for a while, in shock, then called 911. The 911 call came in at eight-fifteen, but a neighbor, who lived near the Lakes, saw Peter Lake arrive home shortly after seven-twenty. The task force members believed it took Lake fifty-five minutes to report the murders because the victims were alive when Lake got home.”

  “Was there anything else that implicated Lake?”

  “A man named Henry Waters worked for a florist. His truck was seen near the Escalante house on the day she disappeared. Waters had a sex offender record as a Peeping Tom. The body of Patricia Cross was found in the basement of Waters’s house. She was disemboweled, just like the three Portland women.

  “Waters was never really a suspect, but Lake didn’t know that. Waters was borderline retarded and had no history of violence. There wasn’t any connection between him and any other victim. Without telling anyone, Lake staked out Waters’s house and followed him for days before the body of Patricia Cross was discovered.”

  “What led the police to Waters’s house?”

  “An anonymous male caller, who was never identified. The task force members believed Lake brought Cross to Waters’s house, murdered her in the basement, then made the phone call to the police.”

  “Why wasn’t Lake prosecuted in Hunter’s Point?”

  “Waters was killed during his arrest. The police chief and the mayor made a public statement labeling Waters as the rose killer. There were no more murders and the cases were closed.”

  “Why did Detective Gordon come to Portland?”

  “When she learned about the Portland notes and roses, she knew the same person had to be responsible for the Hunter’s Point and Portland crimes, because the color of the rose and the contents of the notes were never made public in Hunter’s Point.”

  “Where did Detective Gordon go after she left your residence?”

  “The Lakeview Motel. The manager said she checked in about twenty minutes after leaving my place.”

  “Have you seen or talked to Detective Gordon since she left your residence?”

  “No. She’s disappeared.”

  “Have you searched her room at the motel?”

  Page nodded. “It looked like she was in the midst of unpacking when something happened. When she was at my place, she had an attaché case with a lot of material relating to the case. It was missing. We also found the address of the construction site where the bodies were found on a pad next to the phone.”

  “What conclusion do you draw from that?”

  “Someone called her with the address.”

  “What do you believe happened then?”

  “Well, she had no car. We’ve checked all of the taxi companies. None of them picked her up from the Lakeview. I believe the person who called her picked her up.”

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  Betsy smiled at Page, but he did not smile back. He looked grim and sat stiffly, back straight, with his hands folded in his lap.

  “Mr. Page, there was a lengthy investigation in Hunter’s Point, wasn’t there?”

  “That’s what Detective Gordon said.”

  “I assume you’ve read the police reports from that investigation.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Page answered, shifting uncomfortably on his seat.

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t have them.”

  “Have you ordered them from Hunter’s Point?”

  “No.”

  Betsy’s brow furrowed. “If you’re planning on having Detective Gordon testify, you’ll have to produce her reports.”

  “I know that.”

  “Is there a reason you haven’t ordered them?”

  Page colored. “They’ve been misplaced.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The Hunter’s Point police are looking for them. The reports were supposed to be in a storage area, but they aren’t. We think Detective Gordon may know where they are, because she gave me some items—including Peter Lake’s fingerprint card—we assume came from the file.”

  Betsy decided to switch to another topic.

  “On direct examination, you repeatedly said, ‘The task force members believed …’ Have you talked to these task force members?”

  “No, other than Detective Gordon.”

  “Do you even know where they are?”

  “I just learned that Frank Grimsbo is the head of security at Marlin Steel.”

  “Where is his office located?”

  “Albany, New York.”

  Betsy made a note.

  “You haven’t talked to Grimsbo?”

  “No.”

  “What are the names of the other detectives?”

  “Besides Gordon and Grimsbo, there was a criminalist named Glen Michaels and another detective named Wayne Turner.”

  Betsy wrote down the names. When she looked up Page was stone-faced.

  “Mr. Page, isn’t it true that you have no support for the story your mysterious visitor told you?”

  “Other than what the detective said, no.”

  “What detective?”

  “Nancy Gordon.”

  “This was the first time you saw this woman, correct?”

  Page nodded.

  “Have you ever seen a photograph of Nancy Gordon?”

  “No.”

  “So you can’t say that the person who introduced herself as Detective Nancy Gordon is really Nancy Gordon, can you?”

  “A Nancy Gordon works for the Hunter’s Point Police Department.”

  “I don’t doubt that. But we don’t know that she is the person who visited you, do we?”

  “No.”

  “There’s also no proof that this woman is dead or even a victim of foul play, is there?”

  “She’s missing.”

  “Was there blood found in her room?”

  “No.”

  “Or signs of a struggle?”

  “No,” Page answered grudgingly.

  “Were there any witnesses to the murders of Melody and Sandra Lake?”

  “Your client may have witnessed the killings,” Page answered defiantly.

  “You have nothing but theories propounded by your mystery woman to support that position.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Isn’t it also true that the chief of police and the mayor of Hunter’s Point officially declared Henry Waters to be the murderer of all the women?”

  “Yes.”

  “That would include Sandra and Melody Lake?”

  “Yes.”

  “
Which would make Mr. Lake—Mr. Darius—a victim, wouldn’t it?”

  Page did not answer and Betsy did not force him to.

  “Mr. Page, there were six victims in Hunter’s Point, including a six-year-old girl. Can you think of any reason why a responsible public official would close a case like that and publicly declare an individual to be the killer, if there was any possibility that the murderer was still at large?”

  “Maybe the officials wanted to allay the fears of the community.”

  “You mean the public announcement might be part of a ruse to make the killer lower his guard while the investigation continued?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But the investigation didn’t continue, did it?”

  “Not according to Detective Gordon.”

  “And the murders stopped after Mr. Waters was killed, didn’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  Betsy paused and looked directly at Judge Norwood.

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Highsmith?” Judge Norwood asked.

  “I have nothing further of Mr. Page.”

  “You can step down, Mr. Page.”

  Page stood slowly. Betsy thought he looked tired and defeated. She took satisfaction in this. Betsy did not enjoy humiliating Page—he seemed a decent sort—but Page deserved any pain she inflicted. It was clear he had arrested Martin Darius on the flimsiest evidence, made him spend several days in jail and slandered him. A public defeat was a small price to pay for that kind of callous disregard of his public duty.

  “Any other witnesses?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, Your Honor. Two, both brief,” Highsmith answered.

  “Proceed.”

  “The State calls Ira White.”

  A chubby man in an ill-fitting brown suit hurried forward from the back of the courtroom. He smiled nervously as he was sworn. Betsy guessed he was in his early thirties.

  “Mr. White, what do you do for a living?” Randy Highsmith asked.

  “I’m a salesman for Finletter Tools.”

  “Where is your home office?”

  “Phoenix, Arizona, but my territory is Oregon, Montana, Washington, Idaho and parts of Northern California, near the Oregon border.”