Cheryl sat motionless in her chair. She did not respond. At this time, Moffat signaled the policewoman behind Haugen, with an almost imperceptible tilt of his head. She leaned away and whispered into a radio microphone. Immediately, at the entrance of the tent, April Slater walked in and crossed the grass to a four-person table in a direct line with Cheryl Haugen’s view over Moffat’s right shoulder. Three steps behind April, Brandon Fat walked carrying with his left arm, four year old Ethan, the boy’s arms and legs outstretched as he pretended to fly. A SpongeBob backpack hung from Fat’s right hand.
“Let me continue, now, Mrs. Haugen. You had a lifelong rivalry with the victim. As I said, you had the angry confrontation in the café. I believe you were at the scene of the murder. You had access to the murder weapon. And, you have demonstrated a pattern of deception in this investigation. I believe the District Attorney will find these to be sufficient grounds to bring an indictment. Once more, will you tell me what you did after phoning Mrs. Gillis’ office and learning she was at the church just two miles from your home?”
Cheryl had been looking more and more fearful throughout Moffat’s speech. She sighed.
“I have been lying. But I didn’t kill Ronnie. I did drive over there. I parked around the corner because I didn’t want my mother to see my car from Major Franke’s house. I walked to the church grounds. Yes, I passed that cute little kid. He saw me. I waved. Then I heard the shot. I kept going--I don’t know why--and there she was. She was lying there on the ground. I stopped and turned back.”
“How did you know she was dead?”
“I could tell she wasn’t breathing. I could see the bullet wound.” Haugen voice cracked. She sobbed.
“How close did you get to her?”
Cheryl looked scared again. “I never got close. I stayed on the path.”
“You didn’t think to call an ambulance.”
“No.” Cheryl was crying, softly, with weak moans.
Moffat signaled Fat. He picked up the child in his arms and left with the mother.
“You’re story is hard to believe, Mrs. Haugen,” Moffat said. “Unless you are covering for someone else.” He turned now to Catherine Martius. “Are you prepared to see your daughter charged with murder?”
Catherine shook her head softly. “No,” she said in a low voice. “I am not.”
From behind the counter nearest them, Donna Ferguson gasped.
“Mother! What are you saying?” Cheryl said, her voice cracking.
Catherine looked at Cheryl, confused. “Didn’t you see me?”
“No,” Cheryl said plaintively.
Catherine sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. What would you like to know, Captain?”
“Mrs. Martius, how did you come to have the murder weapon?”
“I saw it in her purse on the table when she opened it at the house. She had the nerve to snoop, taking photographs of Lewis’ home like she was going to sell it out from under him.”
“So you followed her to the church, found an opportunity to take the weapon from her purse, and then shot her?”
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“I threw the gun up into the middle of a bush and went back to Lewis’ house.”
“Mrs. Martius, you’ve never done anything like this in your life, have you?”
She laughed half-heartedly. “No. I surprised myself. I didn’t think I would be able to. But she was so horrid to my daughter at the restaurant and then to Martha at Lewis’ house, I knew I could. It was what I needed.”
“You had wanted to kill Ronnie Gillis before that day, is that correct?”
“Yes. After all these years…” She put her face in her hands.
Moffat turned to still another person at the table.
“Mr. Pane?”
Pane grimaced at Moffat’s failure, for the second time today, to use his title.
“Mr. Moffat?”
“Would you be willing to tell your part of the truth at this time?”
“I have nothing to say,” Pane said, firmly, gruffly.
“Let me ask some questions that cannot fall under the clergyman’s privilege. In 1969, when you came back to this country from Vietnam, you experienced a kind of nervous disorder, isn’t that true?”
“It was a difficult transition.”
“Did you meet Mr. Rees at that time?”
“No.”
“Did you meet Mr. Franke at that time?”
“No.”
“Who is Albert Pane?”
Arthur Pane clenched his teeth. His wife looked completely puzzled.
“He was my brother.”
“Did he serve in the military?”
“No.”
“And yet he was twenty years old on May 15, 1970. His number in the draft lottery placed him at position number twenty for that year. Why didn’t he serve?”
“He left the county. For Canada.”
“But he didn’t get to Canada, did he?”
“No. The police stopped him.”
“At the border in Oroville, Washington. How did they know where to find him?”
Pane glared at Moffat “I turned him in. It wasn’t right. I couldn’t ignore it. I told him he had to serve. He told me to fuck off.”
“So you never saw your brother again?”
“No. Nor my parents. They should have talked him out of it. What he did was unforgivable.”
“Unforgivable.” Moffat repeated the word, examining Pane’s stony expression.
“Thank you, Reverend.”
Moffat turned to Loraine Jamison. “Will you tell us about the events of 1970?”
“I have nothing to say, Captain,” she said, borrowing the preacher’s words.
“All right.” Moffat repeated his own words. “Mrs. Martius, will you tell us about your real motivation for killing Veronica Gillis?”
“It just was fair. A daughter for a daughter. But then it really didn’t make things equal. She had so many more years with hers.”
“When did Lewis Franke tell you about the circumstances of your daughter’s death?”
“It was the Sunday, a week before he died. He didn’t tell me. That is, he thought he was speaking to Martha. He was miserable in spirit. He had confessed to the preacher and instead of forgiveness and consolation, Pane wanted money. As sick as he was, Lewis could tell the difference between an act of contrition and payment of blackmail. Those were his words. He told me it felt like Reverend Pane was blackmailing him. I encouraged him to tell me the truth. He told me about how they killed my first-born child at the very start of her adult life. You were right about one thing, Reverend Pane. It was unforgivable. They were cheating. My daughter caught them. When Sandra refused to go along with it, she shot her.”
“Franke told you that Mrs. Jamison killed your daughter Sandra Smith?”
“Yes. He did.”
“And so in revenge, you killed Veronica Gillis?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t. It didn’t help. It made things worse. I acted completely on my own. Cheryl, I am so sorry.”
Cheryl sobbed. Her mother comforted her with an arm around her shoulder.
Moffat saw Aaron appear behind the counter with Michelle Tremblay, the two joining a girl their age who had been serving refreshments. They moved closer to the corner near Moffat’s group, close enough to hear. The police had created a barrier between this section and the rest of the tent, which was still busy with patrons and volunteers. Moffat called the younger of the two male officers to his side and whispered in his ear. That officer stepped back and spoke to another officer. The first joined Aaron and Michelle. The second left then returned almost immediately with Dr. Zielinski. He took the doctor back behind the counter with the others.
The only sound at the table for the past several minutes were Cheryl’s sobs muffled in her mother’s shoulder and the scratching of De la Peña’s pen across the pages of his notebook.
Moffat began again. “Mrs
. Jamison, I’d like you to tell us about how you made sure your eldest son would avoid the draft in 1970. You didn’t need to follow any of Mr. Rees’ suggestions, did you?”
“Captain, I am not going to say a word. James, would you phone John Neville in Sacramento? Have him come to Segovia. I expect he can meet me at the police station. Now, Captain, before I leave, let me point out that all you have against me is a wild story concocted by my elderly schoolmate here. Catherine, I don’t know why you have made up such a story, but I promise you…”
“I didn’t make it up, Lorraine.” She lifted her purse onto the table and patted the side with her left hand. “I have proof.”
“What do you have, Mrs. Martius?” Moffat asked.
“A cassette tape. I may not be able to operate a cell phone or VCR, but I can still use a cassette recorder.” She pulled a cassette from her purse and displayed it to the others. “Here you are, Captain. Lewis Franke confessing that he and Loraine killed my daughter. It is undeniable, Lorraine.”
De la Peña took the tape from the older woman. Moffat lowered his forehead into his left hand, staring at a point on the table before him.
Catherine leaned toward Lorraine. “Dear, we’re old, not very healthy, not very happy. Tell us the whole truth, like he says. Tell it and let’s be done with it.”
Loraine sighed.
Rees said “Lorraine. No.”
She patted him on the arm. “It’s all right, James. Catherine is right. Let’s have it out.” She turned directly to Moffat.
“You know, I didn’t pay as much attention to that war as I should have. In my heart I knew it was a stupid thing being done by stupid men. I thought I could keep my boy out of it. But then they ended deferments and announced the lottery. And then more boys were killed and it was so horrible. I didn’t know what I would do, but the first thing I did was hire a private investigator. I thought I would need some bargaining chips with Lewis Franke. That was easy. The fool had been pretending he was a great hero. He had never left the States. When my son got the bad lottery number, I gave Franke $4,000 and promised to keep quiet about his lie. He changed the birth date on Gregory’s papers. It was easy. No one should have known. Somehow, she found out. She phoned me, acting like she was just checking up on a clerical error. I called Lewis. We met her at the office. We tried to get her to accept $1,000, then $2,000. She knew the war was wrong but she wouldn’t take the money. I couldn’t allow her to expose what we had done. It was more than the draft now. I would be charged with a crime, I knew. How could I ever have done business in the county once people learned I had cheated? I couldn’t let her leave. I pulled the gun from my purse and shot her. It was so quick. She never felt a thing.”
Mrs. Jamison turned to Mrs. Martius. “But you see, Catherine, when you killed Ronnie, I already did know what it was like to lose a child. Gregory was killed less than two years later. I’m not superstitious. I knew better but somehow in my heart I always felt it was the payback for Sandra. I’m sorry.”
Aaron called out. A single word, “No.” Moffat heard the pain in his voice and saw it on his face before he turned away leaning on Dr. Zielinski’s shoulder. Moffat’s expression hardened. He looked directly into Lorraine’s eyes.
“They shared the same birth date, Sandra and Gregory. That’s how she knew.”
Jamison dropped her head. “Oh.”
“Loraine Jamison, I am arresting you for the murder of Sandra Smith. Officer Lang, would you read Mrs. Jamison her rights?” Turning to Catherine, he said “Catherine Martius, I am arresting you for the murder of Veronica Gillis. Sergeant, please read Mrs. Martius her rights.” Finally he said “Cheryl Haugen, I am arresting you for obstruction of justice. Officer Duncan, please read Mrs. Haugen her rights.”
Moffat leaned back in his chair, watching the activity in the room. First, Zielinski walked a badly shaken Aaron out through the back exit of the tent. Two police officers took Cheryl out, followed by two others escorting her mother and another two holding each of Loraine’s arms as they walked her through the same path to the back exit.
Martha Pane dabbed tears from her eyes. Her husband glowered at the tabletop. Rees looked shell-shocked. De la Peña rejoined the people remaining at the table.
“Mister Pane,” Moffat said. “I wouldn’t plan to spend that inheritance just yet. I’m going to turn this over to the District Attorney. He may wish to charge you with obstruction as well. Either way, it will have a bearing if Mr. Franke’s niece files a civil suit.”
Moffat stood. De la Peña and Rees stood too, almost without thinking. Moffat patted Rees’ shoulder.
“It’s unbelievable,” the older man said.
“I’ll leave you to pick up the pieces here, Mr. Rees,” Moffat said. “You’ve got a refreshment tent to run and, on Monday, a company. It’s not my job to worry about all that, but I wish you luck.”
Moffat turned and now placed his arm on De la Peña’s shoulder. They walked across the tent, through nearly two dozen people, joining Jean and Allison still seated at their original table.
“Sergeant, shall we give ourselves the rest of the weekend off?”
De la Peña shook his head, looking mystified, then nodded. “Yes, boss, that sounds great.”
~ ~ ~
CHAPTER 74
Loose Ends
Through Saturday night and into Sunday repercussions flowed from the resolution of Moffat’s two cases, affecting the investigators, the guilty and the innocent. Of all the innocents, Aaron was the most impacted. His life, which improved so rapidly when his grandmother suddenly took an active role after he brought a loaded gun to school, now was shattered once again. With his mother out of the country, Zielinski took him home and guided him through the first hours of shock and grief. With his knowledge of the boy acquired in twelve days of treatment, this time Zielinski chose not to administer a drug - no sedative or sleeping pill. During the remaining daylight hours Saturday, he left him to himself for a while then pulled him out in the late afternoon for a long walk, mostly in silence. They spent the evening listening to music. After a difficult night, Aaron ate a light breakfast. He asked to have his grandmother’s dog brought to him. Zielinski and Aaron spent an hour in the doctor’s home office engaged in a heartfelt discussion. Afterwards, Aaron seemed even sadder. They went for another long walk. Then Aaron was left alone with his music and the dog. Zielinski was satisfied with Aaron’s progress in the short amount of time but his future was unknown and worrisome.
Independently and with different motivation, Loraine Jamison and Catherine Martius declined to request that bail be set. Mrs. Jamison spent much of her time Sunday working with her attorney on arrangements for Aaron’s future. She did not wish to see her assets drained by bail bond cost and legal fees and said to her attorney that she would like to plead guilty in whatever deal he could work out for her. Mrs. Martius did not have the financial means to post a bond or, she thought, hire an attorney. She requested a public defender but a friend of Cheryl’s came to the police station volunteering to represent both of them. On her own, Catherine had come to the conclusion that she would receive whatever punishment Lorraine would and so she convinced him that she would like to plea bargain. What resources she did have she wished to use in her daughter’s defense.
Knowing her mother was nearby Saturday night gave Cheryl some consolation. She remained dumfounded by her mother’s confession and strangely satisfied knowing that Lorraine had been charged with Sandra’s murder. Cheryl was charged and released without bail on Sunday morning. Her thirty-year-old daughter spent the day with her and was perturbed before noon when Cheryl donned a gray exercise outfit and set out on a jog. After a shower, change of clothes and a light lunch, Cheryl insisted on helping her daughter pack for the family’s move to Colorado.
Early Saturday evening, through a phone call from James Rees, Wade Gillis was informed of his mother-in-law’s arrest and Catherine Martius’ confession to his wife’s murder. Gillis asked no questions of Rees
. He returned to his pool house weight room for a ninety -minute session then remembered to feed the dog. He wondered briefly where his nephew was but assumed the police were taking care of him. Sunday morning, at 7:30, Gillis phoned Rees and said he wanted to sell his share of the business and his home as soon as possible. He said he was going to move to southern California. He wanted to rent a condo on the beach.
Rees was up early Sunday. The employees of Gillis Realty Executives were committed to opening the refreshment pavilion at eleven and operating it through close of the festival at 5:00. With thirty-five years in sales, Rees’ knowledge of human nature led him to expect a huge crowd. To that end, he conscripted his life partner and their daughter to work the tent today. He promised them dinner out afterwards and the long-secret story of his Vietnam War experience and antiwar activities.
Also on Sunday morning, in her large kitchen, Martha Pane prepared oatmeal and toast for breakfast. She had said very little since yesterday afternoon. For the first time in their married life, she chose to make no effort to view a problem or controversy from her husband’s side. She was disgusted that he had tried to take advantage of her friend Lewis’ guilt for his own benefit. Like an irresistible flirtation, she found herself thinking of what Captain Moffat must think of Arthur’s behavior. Moffat was so decent and kind. He had had to be hard on her that day at the café. She understood now. Captain Moffat must see Arthur as a heartless, greedy, selfish man. Oh, and how must Lewis have felt when Arthur withheld the words of God’s forgiveness? Martha thought of their daughter and then of all the nameless others Arthur had condemned because they were gay, divorced, Catholic, Mormon, Moslem…the list didn’t end, she realized. Reverend Pane ate his meal in sullen silence. That is to say, he was his usual self. Later, the church service in the strip mall, in an indication of things to come, attendance fell significantly from the previous week.
Without planning, De la Peña found himself celebrating many things Saturday night. He met the gang from the singles complex at Whelan’s Pub downtown. Jason was quickly the center of attention as his friends, other patrons and, of course, Mr. Whelan himself demanded to know the details of the pursuit of Buck and the outcome of Moffat’s extraordinary convocation of the Gillis suspects at the festival.