Players: A Detectives Seagate and Miner Mystery (Book 7)

by Mike Markel

  “Mostly from me. Some from other fans of the programs.”

  “How do these other fans get you money?”

  “In envelopes. At games, tailgate parties, diners.”

  “Everything in cash?”

  “That’s right. No banks. No records. No paperwork at all. Cash.”

  “So you’re saying that for seven or eight years you have done these activities without the knowledge of Carl Davis, A.D. Freeedlander, or Coach Baxter? Is that correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Let me turn to the Lake Williams murder. Did you buy the heroin from Cory McDermott—the highly concentrated heroin that killed Lake Williams?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know why someone wanted to kill Lake Williams?”

  “No.”

  “Did you deliver the heroin to Kendra Crimmons to give to Lake Williams?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  “No.”

  “Were you aware that someone had bought the heroin and given it to Kendra Crimmons to deliver to Lake Williams?”

  “No.”

  “This is ridiculous, Mr. Weber. You had no role in the death of Lake Williams, you don’t know who did it, and you don’t know why they did it.”

  Christopher Reid said, “Is that a question, Detective Seagate?”

  “Let me turn to the murder of Kendra Crimmons. Did you kill her?”

  “No.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know who killed her, or why she was killed?”

  “No.”

  “All right, you had no role in the deaths of Lake Williams or Kendra Crimmons, and no knowledge of any actions related to those murders? Is that your statement?”

  “That is my statement.”

  “Can you tell us where you were Sunday night?”

  “Sunday nights, my wife and I go over paperwork related to the company. She does the billing for me. We reconcile any problems.”

  “This was in your office or at home?”

  “We do this from home, Sunday nights.”

  “And Wednesday night?”

  “Around what time?”

  “Ten to midnight.”

  “My wife and I were home. I watched a little TV. We went to bed as we always do, around ten-thirty, quarter to eleven. I’m up at six. In my office by seven.”

  “I want to ask you about the your daughter’s rape allegation aganst Lake Williams. Did you believe, at the time, that Lake Williams raped your daughter?”

  “Excuse me, Detective,” Christopher Reid said. “Mr. Weber agreed to come in, voluntarily, to make a statement about the two cases you are investigating now. Why are you asking about something that happened seven years ago?”

  I nodded. “It relates to Mr. Weber’s motives. He said, in a hearing attended by about a dozen people, that he would kill Mr. Williams.”

  Ronald Weber turned to his attorney. “I don’t mind answering.” Then he turned to me. “Yes, I believed he had raped Alicia—and I still believe it.”

  “Would you describe your emotions at the hearing on campus about your daughter’s allegation?”

  “I was furious. I wanted to kill Lake Williams. For what he had done to Alicia.”

  “That’s certainly understandable. Now tell me this, Mr. Weber. Why did Alicia decide to withdraw the allegation against Lake Williams?”

  “I think she concluded that her allegations would cause more harm than good.”

  “Please explain.”

  “It was well known, within the football community and on campus generally, that Lake was her boyfriend. She decided that since there was no proof she had been raped—no physical evidence, no eyewitnesses—and therefore most people, including the faculty and administrators overseeing the hearing, would think that she was simply trying to punish Lake for the way he treated her.”

  “What are you referring to? How did he treat her?”

  “He was unfaithful to her. He didn’t try to hide it. And he abused her physically. On more than one occasion.”

  “But your daughter never pressed charges—about the physical abuse, I mean?”

  “That’s right. I’m not sure what she was thinking.” He shook his head. “Maybe she thought she could help him learn how to deal with his anger issues. I’m really not sure what her thinking was.”

  “Did anybody give you money to try to persuade your daughter to withdraw the rape allegation against Lake Williams?”

  “No, nobody gave me any money.”

  “Mr. Weber, here’s what I think happened. First, about your daughter. I think somebody paid you to get your daughter to back off. Second, about Lake Williams. I think he came to you or to someone in the football program—sometime in the last few weeks, maybe days—and threatened to tell his story. He was in real trouble. He couldn’t think coherently, couldn’t remember things, couldn’t control his anger. Somebody gave you money to buy the heroin and get it to Lake Williams, knowing that since he was a drug addict, he would shoot up and die. Third, about Kendra Crimmons. I think you killed her because she was the only one who could identify you. You found out that she had talked to us about being paid to deliver the drugs to Lake Williams. Therefore, she needed to be silenced. And fourth, about Cory McDermott, your favorite drug dealer. Two days ago, I think you and others beat him severely to send him a message: If he did not keep his mouth shut, he too would be killed. That’s what I think.”

  Christopher Reid spoke. “The wonderful thing about the Constitution, Detective, is that you have every right to say that. Well, not exactly every right. But here in this room, you have the right to say that. Unfortunately, you do not have proof. You do not even have any evidence to support those charges.” He stood up. “Therefore, we are going to leave now. My client was gracious enough to come here today to make a statement, which he has now done. The next move—if you can think of a next move—is up to you. My bet is that, since there is no evidence to support any of your claims, you will not be able to think of a next move. You will decide that it is time to turn your attention to figuring out who really did kill Lake Williams and Kendra Crimmons.” He bowed his head in Ryan’s direction. “Detective Miner, good day.”

  “No, Mr. Reid.” Ronald Weber put his hand on the attorney’s arm. “I want to tell the detectives what happened.”

  Christopher Reid turned to me. “Would you give us a minute, Detective Seagate?”

  “Of course.” I announced a break. Ryan turned off the recording system, and the two of us left the interview room.

  We got to the passageway next to the interview room and looked in through the mirror. Christopher Reid and Ronald Weber were arguing in whispers. The body language, complete with shaking heads and fingers poking in chests, made clear that the lawyer was telling his client not to say anything else to us. They had us right where they wanted us. But Ronald Weber wasn’t going to do what his attorney advised.

  Chapter 25

  The pantomime performed by Ronald Weber and his attorney, Christopher Reid, was wrapping up. Reid lifted his arms, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. Weber nodded to signal that he had won.

  Weber walked back to his seat at the metal table and sat down. Reid looked at the mirror, through which we had watched the proceedings, and waved us in. Ryan and I re-entered the interview room. While he turned on the recording system, I sat down and announced that the interview would now resume.

  I looked at Ronald Weber. “You said you wanted to tell us what happened? Do you want to start with Alicia and the rape allegation?”

  “I’ve already told you about that,” he said. “Alicia withdrew the allegation because she concluded that nobody would believe Lake raped her. In hindsight, she was probably wise. She took some time off from college, then returned and graduated. She has a wonderful husband and a baby daughter. She has moved on.”

&nb
sp; “But you’re sticking with your statement that you were not paid by anyone at the university to persuade Alicia to withdraw the allegation in order to protect Lake Williams?”

  He looked at me. “I’m sticking with that statement because it’s the truth.”

  “All right,” I said. “Tell us your version of the story about how Lake Williams died.”

  Christopher Reid, who had been sitting there silently, his arms crossed before him, suddenly spoke. “Really, Detective, I ask that you show my client some basic respect.”

  I nodded my head. “Tell us about how Lake Williams died.”

  Ronald Weber began. “I had learned that Lake Williams was experiencing significant problems—”

  “Hold on a second, Mr. Weber,” I said. “‘I had learned’? How had you learned?”

  Weber shook his head. “I’m not going to say.”

  “Come on, Mr. Weber. Why is it so difficult to tell us the truth? Who was it: Carl Davis, John Freedlander, Andy Baxter? They didn’t do anything wrong in telling you Lake was in trouble. It’s what humans do. Tell us who it was.”

  “I told you I’m not going to say. But—just to be clear—it was not one of those three men.”

  “Did Lake come to you and tell you? Did Kendra Crimmons come to you?”

  Christopher Reid spoke. “Detective, this is not a deposition. My client is under no obligation to answer any of your questions. He has indicated that he does not want to tell you how he learned that Mr. Williams was having problems. Move on, or I will strongly advise him to terminate this meeting.”

  “You’re not making it easy for me to believe anything Mr. Weber is saying, Mr. Reid.”

  “That is your challenge, Detective, not my client’s.”

  “Go ahead, Mr. Weber,” I said. “You had learned that Lake Williams was in trouble.”

  “That’s correct. I decided I was going to assist him in getting help—”

  “You were gonna help your daughter’s rapist?”

  Ronald Weber stared at me. “That is what I said. I decided I was going to assist him in getting help. When we met before, in my office, I made it clear I am not the man I was those years ago. I have accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I have forgiven Mr. Williams, and I saw it as my Christian duty to help him if I could.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I was in the process of making inquiries about resources to help him.”

  “What kind of resources?”

  “Drug and alcohol dependency and mental health resources.”

  “You mean, like AA?”

  “AA and various outpatient and inpatient programs.”

  “But Lake Williams didn’t have any money, correct?”

  “That is correct. But I did.”

  “You mean, your own money?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You’re telling me—with a straight face—that you were gonna pay to get Lake Williams into some sort of program that would cost hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars a week?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Now tell me how we get from you looking around for programs to help Lake Williams to him shooting up some heroin that kills him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “I said, I don’t know what happened. I learned of his death on the news Tuesday night, or whenever it was announced.”

  “Okay, Mr. Weber, just so I’m sure I’ve got this right. How he died, you don’t know. But how you learned that he was in trouble, you do know, but you won’t say. That’s your statement?”

  “That’s my statement.”

  I sighed deeply. “Let’s talk about the murder of Kendra Crimmons. You don’t know, or you know but you won’t say?”

  Christopher Reid said, “Detective, remember what I said about tone?”

  “Yeah, I remember, but since your client isn’t giving us anything useful, I don’t really think the big problem here is my tone.” I turned back to Ronald Weber. “You said you were gonna tell us what happened. So tell us. What do you know about the murder of Kendra Crimmons, Mr. Weber?”

  “I know nothing about her murder. I had no reason to hurt her. I never met her. I never even heard of her. I could not pick her out of a lineup.”

  “Well, you’re not gonna have to pick her out of a lineup. Okay, Mr. Weber, I think we’re done here. This statement will go to the county prosecutor, who will determine whether to press charges. Personally, I hope that you do face charges for the distribution of dangerous drugs and for pimping, both of which you have admitted. And for conspiracy to murder Lake Williams, for first-degree murder of Kendra Crimmons, and for the assault on Cory McDermott. Obviously, I think you’re lying to protect yourself and the football guys at the university. Or you’re lying to protect yourself from the football guys. The police department remains committed to solving all these cases. If you stick with this story, we will do everything we can to get to the truth and prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law. However, if you decide to help us identify others who have committed crimes related to any of these cases, we will recommend to the prosecutor that he extend to you every consideration. As you think about what you said to us here today, remember that you can amend your statement—in part or in whole—at any time.” I paused. “Do you have any questions?”

  “No, I do not.”

  We ended the meeting, and Ryan escorted Ronald Weber and Christopher Reid down to Reception. A little while later, we caught up with the chief in his office and briefed him on what Ronald Weber had said in his statement.

  “Bottom line,” the chief said, “you don’t believe him.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “He said he was going to tell us what happened, but then he had nothing to say. I think the football guys paid him—or him and his daughter—to get her to back off on the rape allegation, and that the same guys had him buy the heroin and get it to Lake. Then he or someone killed Kendra and beat up Cory McDermott—as a warning.”

  “Where do we stand with the football guys and President Billingham? Have any of them contacted you?”

  “No. All I’ve heard from any of them is the call from Carl Davis telling me to expect to hear from Weber’s attorney. How about President Billingham? He didn’t contact you after you called him?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “What do you make of that?”

  “Well, we can assume that President Billingham was the one who started the ball rolling after I phoned him to say the drug dealer had made a statement about his contact in the athletic department. But I have no idea what he actually did or said. Maybe he called them all together. Maybe he just told John Freedlander, who told the others.”

  “So, we don’t know the president’s involvement—or whether he’s in with the football guys, do we?”

  Chief Murtaugh rubbed his forehead. “If you’re saying we don’t know if he’s covering for his guys, that’s right. We don’t. But I think I have a pretty good relationship with President Billingham. It would be a lot easier for me to believe he’s unaware of what his guys are up to than to believe he’s in with them.”

  “Should we contact him and get him up to speed?”

  Ryan spoke. “There’s nothing to get him up to speed about. We have a drug dealer who said he has a contact at the university, but he didn’t give us a name or any evidence. Now we have a local businessman who says he delivered drugs and girls to student-athletes. And we have an athletics department that retained a lawyer for this businessman. But he didn’t give us any names or any evidence, either. He didn’t implicate one person who works for the university.”

  “If I were the president of the university,” I said, “I’d sure as hell want to know about the kind of corruption Weber described.”

  “Me, too,” the chief said, “but Ryan’s point is that Weber’s strategy was to insulate the university employees by saying he might be willing to take the fall for the drugs and hookers but not for the two murders
or the assault. Weber left it up to us to develop those cases on our own. He was betting we wouldn’t be able to implicate him or the university employees on any of the important crimes.”

  Ryan said, “From what he offered about the drugs and the hookers, I don’t even think he’s vulnerable to any criminal charges on those actions. He gave us no details, and we haven’t developed any ourselves. What can we charge him with?”

  “So he was just jerking us around?” I said.

  The chief sighed. “I think so. The only thing I take from your account of the statement is that the football guys have gotten together and dangled Ronald Weber in front of us. But since we can’t charge him with anything, we can’t get him to flip on the football guys by dealing down the charges.”

  “You’re saying you don’t want to contact President Billingham, then?” I said.

  “That’s right. I agree with Ryan. We don’t have any new information that relates to university employees. We can’t give him a way to pressure anyone to cooperate with us.”

  “Is there a way you can talk to him and figure out whether he’s oblivious to what’s going on or he’s in with them?”

  The chief and Ryan were silent for a minute. Finally, the chief spoke. “I can’t think of how to do that. I don’t want to get aggressive with him or let him think I’m accusing him of protecting some bad actors at the university. There’s too much riding on our relationship with him to jeopardize it unless there’s a clear, compelling reason to do so. Right now, I don’t see that reason.”

  “Okay, chief, I gotta tell you: I don’t know what to do next. If the university guys and Ronald Weber are playing chess with us, I think they’re kicking our asses.”

  “You know what I want to do? Bring in Larry. If we’re missing something, he’ll see it. That okay with you, Karen?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Like I said, I got nothing.”

  The chief picked up his phone and speed-dialed Larry Klein, our county prosecutor. He put it on Speaker.

  “Klein.” His voice was a little garbled.

  “Larry, Robert Murtaugh. Did I interrupt your lunch?”

  I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes after noon.