The Secrets of Ethan Falls

by J. W. Lucas

  “Was that why he was seeing Dr. Greene?” I asked.

  “I don’t know that. But Susan told me the staff found a lot of pain- killer pills in his room and some needles. When they questioned him, she said it was hard because he speaks broken English and is very withdrawn. All he said was he got them from Farhan’s friend.”

  I gave what I had just heard some thought. Another name for the cast of characters to be checked out.

  Mandy continued, explaining that the staff apparently pressed Yo-Yo as much as they could about Farhan’s friend, but he became catatonic. They ended up calling an ambulance, and he was in the hospital for about two weeks.

  “The Medical Center in Bellington?” I asked.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Do you know what he was treated for?”

  “No, I don’t. Daryl? Am I in any trouble for what Susan told me?”

  “No honey, you’re not in trouble, come here.” She leaned over and I gave her a hug, I felt her trembling.

  “Were you a patient of Dr. Greene, or do you know anything about this Farhan guy?” I didn’t want to pry about her cancer experience, but I had to know more.

  “No. When I got sick when I was young Dr. Greene examined me and said I was suffering from menstrual cramps. He wasn’t even close. I had early stage ovarian cancer. Thank God, my parents got a second opinion. I haven’t set foot in his office since that day twenty years ago. I don’t know this Farhan guy.”

  “Daryl, why did you say you wanted to talk to Susan’s father at his house?”

  “I told you that one of Judge Moran’s wounds was thought to have been from a rifle. I’ve heard that Susan’s dad was a combat veteran, obviously familiar with guns. I wanted to see if he had any high- powered rifles in the house, or anything to see if he has any leanings toward this militia group that I’ve heard about.”

  “If you’re thinking he shot the judge, you’re very wrong,” she said defiantly. “When they opened up the so-called survivalist camp they built a shooting range. Susan’s house was close to the camp and her father had complained about the traffic, the noise; that the shooting range was too close to neighboring properties. He said he knew from experience what damage those bullets could do. I think that he and some neighbors sued the owners of the property, and if I remember correctly, Judge Moran was involved, and he worked out a compromise between the owners and the neighbors. That was about a year ago I think.”

  “Thanks, Mandy, that’s very helpful.” I made a mental note to check the Court records to see who owned the camp property.

  “Daryl, if you want me to help you I will. I’ll stop by Susan’s parent’s house and I’ll call Linda Sturgis for you.”

  “Thanks, honey that would be a huge help.”

  We spent the next two hours sitting on the edge of the lake throwing rocks into the water, exploring the top of the waterfall, picking some wildflowers and genuinely just enjoying being with each other. My decision to bring Mandy into the work part of my life was proving to be the right thing to do. But I reminded myself that this was probably going to get nasty before it was over, and I couldn’t do anything to risk her getting hurt. I had plans in my life for Mandy Simmons.

  We got back to the house around four-thirty. Mandy took our picnic supplies into the house and I parked the Gator in the garage. We both agreed that we’d skip dinner and munched on the leftover hors- d’oeuvres.

  After we ate Mandy went into the Great Room and I enjoyed her playing the piano for the next hour. She is an amazing woman, and for the first time in years, I felt like I finally had a home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On Monday morning we both slept late. Suffice to say that our night had given the word togetherness a whole new meaning, Mandy cooked some bacon and scrambled eggs, and we had our breakfast on the deck.

  “Daryl, what time are we heading back to Vermont?”

  “About two I guess, why?”

  “Is it okay if I take your mail home with me? I want to sort out all the things that you need to respond to, and I want to set up a spreadsheet for your investments so that you’ll know what your holdings are. Is that alright or am I pressuring you?”

  “Mandy that’s great and thank you. I know that I need to get a better grip on my finances, and as soon as I finish up in Ethan Falls I promise we can talk about the Foundation or trust as you suggested. And no, you’re not pressuring me. In fact, I’ve been thinking about asking you to help me on the charitable end of things, you know, the legal considerations, and things like that. I thought I could ask Lindsey to talk with you to see what we need to do to set something up.”

  “You would trust me with that? I don’t know what to say. You’ve only known me for a week! And me and Lindsey? I really don’t know her.”

  “Yeah, but in that time, we’ve gotten to know each other very well, don’t you think?” I said in defense of my suggestion.

  “Daryl, being well acquainted in the bedroom doesn’t equate to setting up a Foundation!”

  “Well, maybe you can figure out a way to write off our nap times as a business expense.”

  “You know, sometimes I think you really are crazy! Don’t you take anything seriously?

  “Mandy,” I said as I took her hands in mine,” I’m afraid that you’re going to see the serious side of me sooner than I want you to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mark Savage didn’t kill Susan or shoot Judge Moran. I can feel it in my gut. Whoever did those things is a cold-blooded killer. Putting a stop to him, or them isn’t going to be pretty.”

  “Oh God Daryl, now I’m really scared for you. Please don’t do anything to get hurt. I love You!” she said as she got up and sat on my lap, and her tears started again. I held her for a long time and promised that everything would work out.

  After a while, she stood up and wiped her eyes with a napkin. “I think I’ve done more crying in the week I’ve known you than I have in my whole life! I’m so embarrassed. How long do you think your work in Ethan Falls will take?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I want to outline a plan this morning and get it on paper. When will you be able to set up my meetings with the Petersons and the re-settlement woman?”

  “I’ll call Linda Sturgis this evening and drop in on the Petersons tomorrow morning.”

  I spent the morning writing the upcoming week’s itinerary in my notebook. I would need to call Damien first thing in the morning to run by him the idea of the Vermont US Attorney convening a Grand Jury to investigate the Abbot County Sheriff’s Office. I needed subpoena powers to get access to arrest and investigation reports, evidence inventories, and asset forfeiture and disposition documents. If the Sheriffs were seizing the quantities of narcotics that they claimed, what happened to the drugs?

  I expected to get pushback from Sheriff Porky Hunter and was laying out in my mind what I would need to obtain search warrants if he didn’t honor the subpoenas.

  What I needed more than anything was some help. I thought that a Joint Federal / State investigation wouldn’t ruffle any jurisdiction feathers other than the County’s, and I needed buy-in at the highest levels to pull that off. That was Damien’s strength, and I needed his muscle right out of the gate to get some manpower to help me.

  I spent some time on Google trying to get information on Dr. Greene’s assistant Farhan. Working with only one name I used several search modifiers all relating to healthcare but drew a blank. Maybe that wasn’t his name, or I was spelling it wrong. Google doesn’t miss very often.

  I also made a note to ask Damien if I could borrow the electronic experts he has assigned to his office. I had heard that they were a little off the wall with their personalities but were brilliant in their work. I was troubled about how the County Exec knew what Dan Petrone and I talked about in Dan’s office. I would have to figure out how to get the techs into the building to do a sweep for eavesdropping equipment without attracting attention, and I had hopes that Dan would buy
into that.

  I learned from Google that Vermont has a prescription monitoring system for practitioners. I needed to know if we needed to, how we could access the database to see what Dr. Greene had been prescribing.

  I needed Damien’s interns to do a thorough background on Captain Carpa to see if they would have more luck than I did through Google. If Carpa was Carpanara, as I suspected, what was the disposition of the internal affairs probe? And could they verify that Carpa was, in fact, Porky Hunter’s cousin?

  Det. Roger Manning was the wildcard in the deck. Who was he? If he was from a Jersey PD, how did he end up in Vermont? Perhaps the FBI Newark office could get access to his Jersey PD file.

  I made a note to ask Dan Petrone about any bail bond forfeitures that Freedom Bail Services had suffered. What was the money flow? Was collection managed by the Court clerks?

  I thought Dan would know what grace period a bondsman would have to locate the non-appearing suspect before they would have to pay up.

  I also made a note to ask Damian if he could help me get a Vermont Federal prosecutor assigned to me as a liaison. A priority is to get a search warrant for the bullets that were removed from Judge Moran.

  I Googled the State of Vermont Forensics Lab and learned that they had a firearms examination unit. I needed to know if the bullets could help identify the types of weapons used.

  I needed to interview Dr. Horace Greene to see what his autopsy of Susan Peterson had found. My gut instinct was telling me that he hadn’t done an autopsy, but only a cursory post-mortem exam, if that.

  I would like to have a search warrant in hand when I did the interview, but I was a missing a lot of information to justify a Judge approving a warrant.

  I needed to know more about Farhan. I had a hunch that he was going to be a key player in all of this.

  My most important interview I felt was going to be Susan’s refugee friend, Yo-Yo. That was going to be the hardest task.

  I leaned back in my desk chair and heard what sounded like a vacuum running. “What the heck is she up to?” I asked out loud. I found her in the master bedroom vacuuming the carpet. “You don’t have to do that Hon, Bernie has a cleaning service that comes in and does that for me.”

  “I don’t mind, you looked so busy and I wanted something to do. Are you finished with your homework?”

  “Yeah, I have a lot to do this week and I need to sort out the tasks a little better, but I think I have a plan.”

  “Can I see it?”

  I looked at her for a long minute and I don’t know what possessed me, but I said, “Sure,” and handed her my notebook.

  “Ah! Daryl Richardson’s famous little black book!” she said with a wicked laugh.

  “My notes are on the last pages.” I said, reaching over to turn pages for her. She waved me off.

  She sat on the edge of the bed reading and didn’t say a word. When she finished, she handed it back. “I would never have thought of all of these things. You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you? And I think that I’ve been a distraction to you this weekend. I’m sorry”.

  “Mandy, you can distract me anytime you want” I answered easing her down onto the bed.

  “Mr. Richardson, you’re being naughty again.”

  “Yes, Ms. Simmons, I am.”

  We started packing up around one-thirty. Mandy caught a glimpse of me in my closet opening the gun safe and asked, “What’s that?”

  “It’s a firearms storage locker,” I answered as I removed my Sig-Sauer P226, tactical holster, and two extra loaded magazines.

  “Isn’t it illegal to carry a gun in Massachusetts?” she asked.

  “Mandy, I have a Federal firearms license to carry a concealed weapon, it’s sometimes part of my job.” I placed the gun and accessories in my suitcase. She didn’t say anything, but I could see that the reality of my life finally had caught up to her.

  She called Bernie just before we left and thanked her for helping her this weekend and gave her cell number to her. I locked up the house, and we headed out.

  We drove for almost an hour with little conversation. Finally, Mandy spoke her piece.

  “You seem different now Daryl.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We had so much fun together this weekend, and everything was perfect, but I realize now that’s something that can’t go on forever.”

  “Says who?”

  “Daryl, I can see that your life belongs to others, not me.”

  I took her hand and said, “Mandy, you have become my life, don’t doubt that or me for one second. I love you, and when this is all over I want nothing more. Just you.”

  Our drive to her house took a little over an hour and as we got closer to North Bellington she seemed to be back to herself. “Are we going to live together?”

  “Yes, I would like that a lot.”

  “It will be at your house, right?”

  “I would hope that you’d call it our house.”

  “I’d like that, but I don’t know what I would do with my condo. My parents bought it for me and I don’t want them to be hurt if I sell it.”

  “Then don’t. Let’s just take things a day at a time and you’ll know what the right thing is for you to do.”

  “This is going to sound absolutely crazy after only being together a week, but would you want to be married to me?”

  I knew that I couldn’t hesitate on this answer, and honestly, I didn’t want to. “Yes, that would make my life complete.”

  “I love you Daryl, but let’s not talk about marriage for at least a year.”

  I didn’t know what significance a year had, but I knew that was a road I didn’t want to go down with her. “Whatever makes you happy Mandy, we will do.”

  She turned the radio up and we pulled into her condo complex a little before five. We took our things from the car and went upstairs to unpack.

  “I’m sorry; the bed is a Queen size, not a King like at your house.”

  “You mean our house, don’t you?” I said as she pulled me onto her bed.

  “Yes, that’s what I meant. She said. The drive made me tired, we need a nap.”

  I got settled into Mandy’s condo and I was watching TV in the living room when she came in and said, “I just got off the phone with Linda Sturgis.”

  “And?”

  “She was very hesitant to speak with you at first, and I had to convince her that I think that the Sheriff’s Department is covering up Susan’s murder and that her immigrant families could be in real danger.”

  “How did she handle that?” I asked.

  She agreed to meet with you Wednesday afternoon but she’s very hesitant to let you speak with Yo-Yo, which by the way is his nickname, they think.”

  “They think?” I asked. What kind of staff do they have running this place I wondered to myself?

  “Yeah! They really don’t know much about him other than he’s an orphan and was taken in about a year ago by one of their immigrant families in Iraq before they arrived here. They’re the ones that call him Yo-Yo. By the way, she refers to all of them as her clients,” she explained.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Mandy continued. “Remember I told you that Yo-Yo is autistic? Well, he seems very frightened of men he doesn’t know. Linda doesn’t think he’ll respond to you, and she’s worried he may become hysterical and slip into a catatonic state again.”

  “You know, he sounds like some of the kids I met in my human trafficking investigation,” I answered, remembering how traumatized they were by their experiences.

  “Daryl, I think anyone who victimizes a child with mental illness is a repulsive human being who doesn’t deserve to live on this Earth.”

  “I agree. But you said that Susan seemed to be able to break through to him,” I challenged.

  “I did say that. But Susan was very beautiful and had a certain gentleness about her. I think that she was able to connect with him as a mother or sister surrogate
. You know, someone he felt safe with.”

  “I understand, but it’s critical that I get to meet with him. I have something in mind to help him communicate with us,” I said.

  “Us?”

  “Yeah. I would really like you there. I think that he could relate to you like he did with Susan.”

  “Daryl, I don’t know if I could do that. I mean, I want to help you but I’m afraid that I might do or say something that will hurt him. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something like that happened.”

  “You won’t hurt him. Just believe that we’re trying to make his life better by his helping us.”

  “How can he help us?” she asked.

  “Mandy, don’t you think it’s important to find out who was supplying him and maybe some of the other kids with drugs? Do you want him to spend the rest of his life being victimized like that?”

  “No of course not” she snapped back.

  “Well, just think about what I’m saying. You may be able to change his life forever, to a better one than he has today. You just must have some faith in yourself. I think that Yo-Yo needs to believe that he has people who care about him, and his incredible artistic talent can help us. I think he can tell us who gave him the drugs he had.”

  “I understand Daryl, but there’s a problem.”

  “What?”

  “Linda said that before he went to the hospital, he destroyed all of his art supplies. The paper, charcoal, paints, brushes, everything. They tried to sedate him to control his rage, but he went catatonic. She said the supplies weren’t all that good to start with, they were donated by some of the church families, but they were the only thing that he seemed to feel belonged to him. And he destroyed them.”

  “Does he know that Susan is dead?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. You would have to ask Linda.”

  “Mandy, I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I need a huge favor.”