by Douglas Hall
When the Proctor interview was over, King asked, “Do you want anything replayed, sheriff?”
Culpepper shook his head and pressed the intercom button, “Chester, get in here!”
Bain appeared in the doorway as Culpepper reached for his hat and put it on, “Tell the duty officer that you and I will be out of the office for a short while and, if an emergency arises, Deputies West and King will assist. They will be waiting in my office until you and I return.”
“May I ask what we will be doing?”
“Spreading a bit of panic,” Culpepper replied with a touch of anticipation as he left the office, with Bain bringing up the rear.
Not having any idea of what was going on, West and King decided to make the most of whatever time they might have by catching up on business that had piled up over the past few hectic days.
West called Mandy and brought her up to date. He was pleased to hear that Thelma Jean was settling in at both Mandy’s apartment and the office. Mandy made a point of saying she was a fast learner and had no problem crossing the border, thanks to documents Culpepper and the chief of police supplied.
West’s main concern was Victor Madison unexpectedly arriving at the office and seeing Thelma Jean which would trigger questions. Mandy said that she would move her into his office to work and keep the door closed. West’s final instructions were for her to book an open ticket for him and King out of Chattanooga as they would hopefully be turning in their deputy badges within the next couple of days.
King had a long conversation with his chief, which went remarkably well. It ended with orders to report to the staff sergeant the day after his return and immediately resume duties in homicide.
It was less than hour since Culpepper and Bain left, and when they returned, West and King watched the scout car pulling up at the front entrance and Culpepper opening the rear door. He held it as Bain helped a man in handcuffs out of the car. They recognised him immediately. It was Jayden Mayfield.
Before he returned to his office, Culpepper followed Bain, and the prisoner, to the holding cell door where they had a brief conversation. Without a word of explanation, Culpepper entered his office, removed his hat, sat down at his desk and reached for the phone.
“Gaylord, Virgil here. You might want to drop what you are doing and come to my office. I just arrested Jayden Mayfield, and he is in the holding cell. He asked me to call you.”
Culpepper listened for a moment then said, “I’ll tell you all about it when you arrive.”
Both West and King were eaten by curiosity until Culpepper told them that there was one question which had been gnawing at his innards. It had to be ‘someone’, other than Proctor or Brockhurst, who set the money laundering wheels in motion. There was no way they could do it by themselves let alone have the know-how. It would take a skilled individual with accounting skills to set up the mechanics which allowed monthly deposits to smoothly move from the Liechtenstein numbered account to the Moody Brook bank, and into the accounts of Sammy Pines and Proctor undetected.
It wasn’t until he listened to their interviews that it hit him. That ‘someone’ had to be a bank insider who had the power to control and manipulate the record and reporting system and that someone was in the holding cell waiting for his lawyer.
West countered with the question that was at the top of their unanswered list…who committed the actual murder of Cindy Madison? All they had was the finger pointing between Proctor and Brockhurst, but no hard evidence to tie either one to the body parts in the flowerpots.
"That’s precisely why I asked you two to stay over and see if you can get me answers to those two questions. I called the DA on my way to Mayfield’s house and apprised him about what I had heard when I listened your interviews. I told him I was going to make an arrest. He cautioned me that I was walking on thin ice because there was no proven evidence to support my conclusions.
“All he has at the moment is what Brockhurst’s said on record after he signed the deal for her to become a witness for the prosecution. I put the question to you two. Do you believe that Proctor murdered your missing girl?”
King was first to reply, “We’ve been asking each other the same question but haven’t got a definitive answer for you. Everything points to him. He certainly had means, motive and opportunity.”
West added, “All we have is Brockhurst’s word for what happened, and how the body parts ended up in the bottom of the flower pots. Both responded firmly in the negative when asked if they murdered the girl, but that was not surprising nor unexpected, but it begs the question. A murder took place…Which one is lying and which one did it?”
Culpepper was quick to add, “I am sure when you return home, the first question you will be asked by the girl’s father will be who murdered my daughter. I know it would me mine. While I do battle with the town’s only lawyer, who will be here shortly to raise holy hell on behalf of his client, will you take on one more assignment before you turn in your badges?”
“Just what do you have in mind?” West asked. He had a sneaking suspicion of what was coming, so did King.
“I want you to conduct one more interview with our Miss Brockhurst. Unlike Proctor, I think she will see you without Gaylord Brunson attending. You can say that he is presently engaged but will be given a complete transcript, something I am not planning to do.”
“Horrors!” King exploded. “Are you ordering us to lie?”
Culpepper broke into a wide grin, “Dare say it won’t be the first time.”
West thought for a moment then said, “With luck, since she has a deal with the DA and will be a witness for the prosecution, she will not want to jeopardise anything by refusing to talk to us again.”
"You have a great grasp of the obvious, and I am pleased to see you two have no scruples when it comes to playing fast and loose with the truth to achieve a desired result. Start off by asking her one more time if she murdered the girl and see where that leads you.
“While you are at it, I’ll be having a go at my old poker playing friend and see what falls from the branches when I shake his tree.”
“You think of everything,” King said with a laugh.
“That’s why I keep getting re-elected to ongoing four-year terms. Before you go, here is a copy of the e-mail that was waiting for me when I came in this morning. You may find it helpful.”
BRUNSON ROARED UP to an empty parking place in front of the office and, for a large man out of shape, move quickly through the front door. Culpepper hadn’t exaggerated when he told his two deputies holy hell would break loose and it did. Without knocking, Brunson burst through his office door and bellowed, “Just what in tarnation is this all about, Virgil, and it had better be good?”
“Sit down, Gaylord, take a deep breath, and I’ll explain.”
Brunson listened with a deep scowl, and when Culpepper was finished, said, “All you have told me is circumstantial and not sufficient to subject a pillar of the community to the indignity of being handcuffed and dragged to a holding cell. The voters of this fair community will remember this moment when election rolls around. If not, I shall remind them.”
“Is that a threat, Gaylord?”
“Just a promise, Virgil, just a promise.” Brunson, suddenly, realised he had overstepped with the implied threat that he would never carry out and would come to regret it. He always prided himself on being a man who seldom regretted anything.
“Duly noted, Gaylord, and I might say, remembered. If that’s all, I have a busy day ahead of me. You can see your way out.”
“I demand to see my client and attend his arraignment.”
Culpepper walked to the door and opened it. “Chester!” he called out. “Take Mr Brunson to the holding cell so he can speak to Mr Mayfield, and, Chester, you can wait outside the door.”
Standing at the door wasn’t necessary, but it sent a message to Brunson.
Twenty-Five
WEST AND KING HAD A PRIVATE BET between themselves. West
thought Brockhurst would talk to them if for no other reason than she had nothing better to do to pass the time and bet ten dollars. King was not that optimistic and doubled it to twenty that she would not speak to them without her lawyer present.
West won when Brockhurst was brought to the interview room and, with a smile, said, “I thought I had seen the last of you two, but I must say you two look better than four walls. What can I do for you?”
“We need to talk to you one more time, and if you want your lawyer present, we will wait for him,” King offered.
Brockhurst shook her head, “I don’t need him to sit here and tell me to keep my mouth shut. I have my deal and if you tell me that anything I say to you won’t be held against me, or change the deal, I’m agreeable to speak to you without him.”
“You have our word,” West was quick to add.
“Will you be recording what I have to say?”
“From the moment you entered the room,” King pointed at his recorder on the table.
“Then you recorded your assurance that anything I may tell you won’t be used against me?”
“It’s all there on tape,” King replied, “shall we begin?”
“What do you want to know?”
“For starters, we want to know who murdered Cindy Madison, and how she was murdered.”
“There was a horrible accident. I had nothing to do with it. I was just a witness.”
King checked the recorder and glanced at West to take over.
“Tell us the whole story and start when Cindy Madison came to tell Proctor that her period was two weeks late, and she thought that he had impregnated her. We know she planned to go to the hospital for a pregnancy test then to the police to charge him with rape.”
Brockhurst moistened her lips and began, “It was a complete surprise when she barged in on us and said what she was going to do. It shook Paul to his very core, especially when she told him, ‘There is no way I will carry your bastard child.’”
“What was she like when she told him that?”
“Surprisingly calm. It was apparent she had carefully thought everything through and there was no turning back.”
“What about Proctor? How did he react?” King glanced at West.
"He was astonishingly calm and controlled and said they couldn’t talk about it any further in his office because someone might interrupt them. He suggested that the best place to assure complete privacy was the boathouse. He asked her if she would meet us there in half-an-hour. She agreed.
“Paul and I discussed the options before we left for the boathouse. He decided that she had to be bought off and said he would give her a hundred thousand. He realised that she was in no mood to be bought off but thought if the offer was large enough, she might go for it. As far as he was concerned, no amount was too much and instructed me to cut a cheque payable to cash, so no name would appear.”
“Did Sammy Pines have that kind of money in reserve?”
Brockhurst looked incredulous, “Are you serious? Sammy Pines was hanging on by its bootstraps. Even with the monthly influx of Liechtenstein funds, it was barely breaking even. Paul had no reserves. He lived high and spent every cent he took out of Sammy Pines, and his ministry on the boathouse which became his man cave, no luxury was spared.”
“How else did he spend it?” King asked.
“On his high-powered, double-engine boat. There is nothing like it on the lake.”
West looked at King. Next came another unanswered question, “We always wondered how she got all the way from Canada to Alabama without a trace. Do you know how she did it?”
“Yes, she attended one of Paul’s local crusades and was impressed. She met him and offered support for Child Waiting. He was taken with her and they started a computer friendship. Soon were talking or texting every day on their iPhones. Even though they were separated by nearly half a continent, they had a long-distance relationship, and as they say, it was getting hot.”
“How did you handle it?” West asked.
“As long as it was long distance, I didn’t care or worry, but it changed when he talked me into driving to Canada and bringing her to Sammy Pines without anyone and, especially, her parents, knowing. It had to be done in the middle of the night, so we could be across the border before her parents knew she was missing and there would be no trace.”
King and West had perfected a seamless method of interrogation which saw them effortlessly switching back and forth. It was designed to intensify the questioning and kept up the pressure.
It was King’s turn, “What happened when you arrived at Sammy Pines?”
“They had to be careful and not arouse suspicion so Paul had me set her up as one of the staff. They would meet late at night in the boathouse whenever they wanted to get together.”
“Was the boathouse their love nest or whatever they call it these days?” King asked.
“That’s a good word for it.”
“And you knew what was going on?”
“Of course, I did. Why do you think Paul poured so much money into it? For girls who came from no running water, and an outhouse, it was beyond their wildest dreams.”
“Then you are saying, there were other girls?”
Brockhurst looked at West as though he was completely insane, “Of course, there were right from the start, one after another, but none was like Cindy.”
West shook his head, “If as you say there were other girls before Cindy, what happened to them?”
“Gone. Once Paul tired of them, they were fired, given a thousand dollars, and ordered to leave Sammy Pines immediately.”
“Didn’t they object?”
Brockhurst shrugged indifferently, “The thousand dollars was more than anyone of them had ever seen, and it was more than enough to see the last of them and seal their lips.”
“There is a word for people like you,” King suggested.
“I have a thick skin. All I was interested in was keeping Paul happy. Since I was never given the opportunity to fulfil his needs, I had to supply him those who would. He was mine during the day and theirs in the boathouse at night. He would never have gotten rid of me…I knew too much.”
“Getting back to the money Proctor was going to need to buy Cindy off and get her out of his life. If, as you say, he spent everything he made, where was he going to get a hundred thousand?”
“Through a reverse mortgage on Sammy Pines. It would be worth losing some of its equity to get him out of a tight corner. Sammy Pines also had a line of credit he could draw upon. He knew I could juggle the books if he needed it short term before the mortgage came through.”
“What happened the night Cindy died?”
“Do I have to paint you a picture, Deputy West?”
“As a matter of fact, you do.”
Brockhurst sighed deeply, “When we got to the boathouse, Cindy was waiting in the shadows for us. We entered and when Paul made sure everything was secured, so no one could barge in, he suggested we enjoy a glass of wine. She said ‘yes’ and he told me to get a bottle of the best out of the refrigerator. I thought for a moment, as we sipped our wine that the unpleasantness was thawing until Paul suggested that it would be for the best if she left Sammy Pines forever, forget him and have an abortion. That’s when he offered her the hundred thousand and she erupted.”
“What did she do?” King asked.
"Cindy threw her wine in his face and said nothing could erase the violent rape that she endured and accused him of being a sexual sadist. He just said he liked rough sex and thought she did. With that she headed for the door.
“Paul lunged to stop her and they fought. He finally overcame her and threw her on the chesterfield. She was screaming and he put one hand over her mouth and the other around her neck. I guess he held both too long because she, suddenly, went limp.”
“Where were you while all this was going on?” West asked.
“On the other side of the room watching.”
“Didn�
�t you try to help?”
“What could I do…I was no match for Paul, especially when he was enraged.”
“What then?” King asked.
“A sudden calmness, suddenly, came over him. I had never seen him like that before. He said his problem was solved, but we had to get rid of her. I didn’t want any part of it and told him so. I wanted to leave but he begged me to say.”
“What happened next?”
Brockhurst stared into West’s face, “Paul laid her out on the chesterfield and even put a pillow under her head.”
“Continue.”
“Perhaps I should have my lawyer here before I say anything more. I think I have said too much already.”
“That’s your right,” pointing to the phone on the table King said, “you can call him right now and tell him we will wait for him to arrive before we question you further.”
Brockhurst thought for a moment then replied, “I have my deal, right? You said that anything that I tell you won’t change it?”
“Your deal can’t be touched,” West replied assuredly. “On that matter you can trust us.”
West had no idea if what he said would stand up in court but Brockhurst accepted it.
Brockhurst shrugged, “I trust you.”
“What happened next?”
“Paul said she had to be gotten rid of, and we kicked around a couple of ideas. He could weigh her body down, take it to the middle of the lake and dump it, but decided that was too risky. The boat would be heard and the body could rise to the surface someday, so he dropped that idea. His other suggestion was that we take it into the woods and bury it. I told him that was stupid because the animals cold dig it up. That’s when he came up with the idea to cut the body up in pieces and put it in the canna lily pots. It would take time but nothing would be left to find.”
“Didn’t you make any suggestions?” West asked.
Brockhurst’s face contorted, “Don’t you listen to anything I have said? I told you I had nothing to do with what happened to Cindy Madison before or after she died.”