Murder For Comfort

by John L. Work

  “I went along with all of it. I helped plan the whole thing. I did it without thinking about how his death would affect his daughters. It was all about Sammie and me. I was that hooked on her. I thought that after we were in the clear, some place where the police could never get to us, I could send the girls enough money that they’d be set up for life and that’d make it all okay. I know that probably doesn’t make sense to you, but I was just so focused on hanging on to her that I helped her put it all into motion.

  “We both started doing research on where we could go and not have to worry about being extradited back here when you all figured out who killed Jim. I knew that you can’t plan a perfect crime, but I thought that maybe we could pull it off, sort of like that movie director Roman Polanski did with his rape case. He went to France after his conviction. And they don’t do extraditions from there for crimes of passion. So we searched for countries that don’t have extradition treaties. Most of them aren’t friendly to the United States and their governments are too unstable – or they’re just communist governments. Those wouldn’t do. We needed to be able to hang onto the money.

  “Then, Sammie started looking into Samoa. It has all the tropical paradise amenities she’d talked about. And there’s a pretty easy way to become a permanent resident and a citizen. We studied all the guidelines and immigration policies. With their government made up of a bunch of tribal chiefs, we figured with our money we could pretty well buy our way into permanent residency status. Later, we could become citizens, if we wanted to. That’s where she is now. Sammie’s in Samoa.

  “She left for Chicago right after she quit her job on a Wednesday afternoon. She drove straight through and got a motel room near O’Hare airport. She’d already closed up her apartment and put her things into storage. She shut her landline off and canceled her cell phone service. Then she got another cell phone to take with her.

  “When Jim got to his room in Chicago, he called me to tell me he was going out to eat. On our way to the Denver airport I made him promise he’d call me when he was on his way back from dinner. As soon as he called and told me he was leaving the hotel, I called Sammie. And I called her again when he was on his way back. I’m sure you found the records of the calls. She knew which hotel he’d be staying at, because I made his reservations.

  “I didn’t hear from her again ‘til right before she got on her plane at O’Hare. She told me it was done and she was leaving. She flew to Los Angeles, then to Fiji and Samoa. I’m supposed to meet her in Auckland, New Zealand and we were going to fly together to Samoa. She’s already gotten some longer term housing there.

  “I didn’t have any communication with her for awhile, because of the funeral back in Altoona and all the arrangements that had to be made for that. I wasn’t going to stay for the estate division and the reading of Jim’s will. I’d already moved the bulk of our assets to Grand Cayman, then to an offshore bank in Samoa. Both of the accounts are in Sammie’s and my names.”

  Welch spoke next. “Why are you telling us about this now? You’re confessing to being a conspirator, a complicitor and an accessory to First Degree Murder. Why?”

  “I couldn’t bear it when I saw Kim and Adrienne at Jim’s funeral. They were crushed, heartbroken. That was the day that I realized that no matter what I felt for Sammie, I’d never be able to sleep peacefully, knowing what we’d done to his daughters. And his parents wouldn’t have anything to do with me. They wouldn’t let me sit near them at the funeral, even though I was next of kin. When they first told me they wanted to bury him in Altoona, I went along with it. I guess I just lost my bearings at his funeral and began to think about what Sammie and I had done to the kids. So, I was going to call the police and confess, but Detective Stanley called me first. That’s pretty much everything. I figure you’re going to arrest me now. That’s why I brought David along.”

  It was Welch’s turn again.

  “Does Sammie have any idea you’ve decided to confess and turn yourself in to the police?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I told her in an email that I’ve had second thoughts about all of it and that I’m having a hard time living with what we did to Jim’s kids. But, no, I hadn’t told her I was going to give myself up and confess.”

  “Marnie, we’ll be taking you into custody for Conspiracy to Commit First Degree Murder and First Degree Murder. I’m sure Mr. Talidge will want to speak with you in private. You’ll be coming with me to Roberts County for booking and processing after you and he have a chance to talk. Oh, I nearly forgot. When were you supposed to meet Sammie in Auckland?”

  “A week from next Thursday. I already booked a flight that leaves from Denver on Wednesday morning. Counting all the time changes, it’s a forty-three hour trip to Samoa, so there’s a plane change in Los Angeles and then another in Auckland, if you’re flying straight through. We were going to spend a night or two there in New Zealand before going on to Apia.”

  “Did Sammie make her reservations, yet?”

  “Yes. She emailed them to me.”

  “Are you willing to give us your flight information, so we can arrange for the New Zealand police to meet her there and take her into custody?”

  “Yes. I brought it all with me.”

  53

  Welch was satisfied with Marnie’s confession, and yet he was skeptical about it. He wondered if she’d really decided to betray her lover to the police and lead Sammie into the trap that would be set at Auckland. They had more than enough to charge both women in three First Degree Murders. He didn’t fully trust that she’d told the three detectives the complete truth. Yes, it was nice to see that she had a twinge of conscience, or at least she said she had one, but she’d shown no remorse at all for having been partly responsible for Sheila McCowell’s death. Jealousy is a terrible emotion. This one was definitely a head scratcher. Frank Stanley would fly back to Chicago to prepare his arrest warrant for Samantha Newsom in the murder of Jim McCowell. Steve Reilly had sufficient evidence to charge her for Jimmie Slaikovitch’s killing. And Welch would file a case immediately for her part in the death of Sheila McCowell. It was all very troubling to him. He’d seen people murdered both for love and for money, but this one had several perverse twists he’d not yet encountered.

  The three detectives sat and talked outside the interview room while Marnie and her lawyer, David Talidge, conferred in private. Welch was very sure that her attorney had tried to convince her not to confess anything to the police, so she must have been very insistent about her intention to do so. Talidge could have stopped the interview at any time, as could have Marnie, but she’d gone on uninterrupted until the entire story was told. Perhaps Talidge allowed the confession to continue because he figured that he’d be able to use her demonstration of remorse to broker some sort of deal with all of the different prosecutors who would be involved with the three different cases. And the prosecution teams would certainly use Marnie’s testimony to convict Samantha Newsom for her part in the crimes. Marnie wasn’t in custody while she confessed and Welch had told her, prior to her confession, that she was free to stop talking to the police and leave at any time. No promises had been made and they certainly didn’t coerce her narrative in any way. She’d freely given all of it to them, purportedly because her conscience forced her to come forward after Jim McCowell’s funeral.

  Then Welch began to worry that an appeals Court might throw out her confession, due to the coercion she felt from her own conscience. He recalled another Colorado case wherein the defendant confessed to a murder because he felt that God had compelled him to tell the truth and reveal the location of his little victim’s remains – so that her parents could give her a proper Christian burial. The cops used his confession to find the girl’s body and charge him with First Degree Murder. He was found guilty and later appealed his conviction. The Colorado Supreme Court, in a case for the annals of criminal justice history, threw out the confession. They also tossed out of evidence the little girl’s body that the poli
ce uncovered from a shallow grave, and then overturned the conviction – all because the defendant had felt coerced by God to tell his story to the cops. So, Welch knew that some very bizarre things can happen in appeals Courts. Nevertheless, he was reasonably confident that Marnie McCowell’s admissions would hold up, both in a suppression hearing and on appeal if she were to be convicted. He wasn’t a big proponent of soliciting confessions from defendants. However, in this case the defendant and her attorney had requested the opportunity for her to sit down with the cops and tell all.

  David Talidge emerged from the interview room and told Welch that Marnie was ready to be booked into custody. Welch called for a Colorado Springs officer to take her back to a temporary holding cell while the three detectives finished their conversation. They agreed that one of them should make the necessary connections with the police in New Zealand in order to have Samantha Newsom arrested there. The next question was which of them should go to Auckland to make sure that things were taken care of. Since Welch’s case in the murder of Sheila McCowell had occurred first and ignited this conflagration of destruction, they selected him for the expedition to the other side of the world.

  Stanley’s case load made him reluctant to do anything further than preparing his arrest warrant in Jim McCowell’s killing. That left Steve Reilly to research whatever would be necessary to put an arrest and extradition proceeding into motion in Auckland. He agreed to forward the information to Welch. With that much planning done they decided to adjourn the meeting. Reilly left for the drive up to Park County. Stanley still needed a ride back to the Denver airport. Welch was his transportation. They’d be accompanied by Marnie, who would ride handcuffed in the forward passenger seat, directly in front of the Chicago cop. While neither detective expected any trouble from their prisoner, it was always a good idea to have an officer sit behind a suspect in transit. That way, if any violence should occur, by means of picking the handcuff lock with a hidden key, slipping her hands from behind her back under her feet, thus being able to grab things in front of her, or any number of other events that sometimes transpire during prisoner transports, the officer sitting behind would have the advantage in a fight to regain control.

  Officer Tom Caldwell brought her back up to the squad room and Welch did the handcuffing. Caldwell provided a waist belt, enabling the detective to use a steel ring through which to loop the restraints. That way, her range of motion was limited by the cuffs being attached to the front of the belt. Yet, it would provide much more comfort during the ride back to Denver and Roberts County than if her hands were cuffed behind her back. Welch couldn’t help noticing her beautiful round eyes and the strength in Marnie’s arms as he applied the cuffs, then double locked them, so they couldn’t tighten. Her firm musculature became even more apparent to him as he lightly placed his left hand around her right upper arm as they escorted her from the squad room to the back parking lot. She didn’t tense the arm as he took her in hand. She didn’t need to do that for him to feel its solidity and shape. This lady had definitely pumped some iron for a few years.

  The three of them walked out the back door to the loading dock, then down a short stairway to where Welch had parked his car. He assisted his prisoner into the front seat and leaned across her to fasten the seat belt. She was wearing a hint of sweetly scented cologne. Then he caught himself. As the part that this beautiful woman had played in what happened to Sheila, to Slaikovitch and to her own husband flashed through his mind, he forced his involuntary male response to her femaleness to quickly exit his thoughts. But it did take a little mental effort.

  There was little conversation among them on the way to Denver. Marnie sat in silence while Welch worked his way through the metropolitan traffic and into the airport access. As they turned onto Federico Pena Boulevard they could see the white tent shaped structures of the double terminals, pointing upward at a cloudless blue Colorado sky. Welch took the terminal east exit and stopped at curbside. Stanley got out at the passenger drop off point on the second level, grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and came round to the driver’s side of the unmarked car. He shook hands with his new colleague, stepped up onto the sidewalk to make his way into the terminal and began his journey back to Chicago.

  Welch lowered the passenger-side window and yelled, “Give me a call when you get back to your office.”

  He answered, “I will. And thanks for everything.”

  As Stanley walked through the sliding door into the terminal, Welch raised the window, drove the car to the exit gates and left without having to pay any parking fee. The ride to the Roberts County Jail took about forty-five minutes. He and Marnie didn’t converse during the trip. She sat alone in her thoughts and he was occupied with his own. He pulled into the long driveway that led to the back of the jail and buzzed the duty officer to open the rear gate. Deputy Tommy Gonzales met him and his prisoner at the rear door of the booking room. While Welch put his duty revolver and speed loaders into a gun locker, Gonzales took their prisoner into the receiving area to be patted down by a female deputy. The detective followed them inside the building.

  He sat down at a computer terminal and completed the bare bones sketch of an affidavit in support of a warrantless arrest that he’d begun writing a couple of days ago. He wouldn’t need a signed warrant to hold her, because she was already in custody. The document would contain just enough information about Sheila McCowell’s murder, and Marnie’s confession to her involvement, so that a judge would find probable cause to hold her and set a bond. Then the question as to whether she would be a flight risk and how high the bond should be set would become a key issue on the Court’s agenda.

  Welch could see it argued both ways. The prosecution could assert that Marnie was a flight risk and should be held without bond because she had already confessed that she and Samantha Newsom had already made plans to meet on the following week in Auckland, New Zealand. The other side of it, possibly to be credibly argued by David Talidge, was that a reasonable bond should be granted because, both by her cooperation with the police and the demonstration of remorse during her confession, she was no longer a flight risk. The Court would have to decide which side of the case to believe. It could be that the judge would order Marnie to surrender her passport. That would certainly make it difficult for her to leave the country, but of course not out of the realm of possibility. It would, however, render her lawful entry into a foreign country very much impossible.

  Welch spent about two hours completing his affidavit, a Court information sheet for inmate classifications, and the booking sheet. He handed it all to Tommy Gonzales, then watched as Deputy Donna Tuttle took mug photos and rolled Marnie’s fingerprints onto the glass plate that would enable the computerized Automated Fingerprint Identification System, or AFIS, to capture the images for permanent storage. Welch went back to the separate computer terminal, printed a copy and looked at her mug shot, staring at Marnie’s beautiful features – the short, thick dark brown hair, her round blue eyes, the dark eyebrows and long eyelashes, the slightly turned-up nose, well-shaped mouth, a flawless light complexion and the firm chin that was set on a squared jaw. If there were ever a photograph to prove the saying that one’s character and intentions can’t be judged by appearances, he was looking at it. She was knockout beautiful and Welch could fully understand what had happened to Jim McCowell as he came under her spell. The detective had seen it happen to so many men. Then he wryly thought that Mark Twain had been so very correct in his brief analysis of men, of human nature, and the consequences that can befall the man who is blinded to their existence by the merciless, unrelenting urges of his natural instinct to mate with a willing female. In this case, Jim’s yen to recapture the energy and sexual spontaneity of his youth had led to his death – and to two more orphaned teenagers in the world. Having seen so much misery as a cop, often brought on by the surrender of men to their primal drives, Welch often thought to himself that sex was the greatest and most cruel joke that God ever devised to pl
ay upon males. A few brief minutes or hours of ecstasy and pleasure might very well lead to a series of events that could result in a lifetime burdened with remorse, regret, or even prison and death. Yes, Mark Twain was right. In most cases, the heat of passion can temporarily obliterate from men’s minds any consideration of the terrible events that may inevitably follow the act. Sated lust leads to love and commitment, which can mean breaking prior promises to one’s original mate. Then there are the cases wherein lovers become enraged with the loss of their sexual partners’ affections for a third party and kill them. Quite often these men end up turning their guns on themselves after slaying their ex-wives or girlfriends. The newspapers sometimes print the stories as senseless acts of violence by crazed or deeply troubled men.