by Gene Epstein
Robert left elated and relieved. He could not wait to contact Mandy and tell her that his life finally had direction.
With the remainder of the funds, after paying all his bills including the payment to the IRS, Robert had enough money to fund the next three years of law school, pay his monthly rental payment, utilities, food, and auto insurance with a little left over. A part-time job would keep him afloat with no pressure.
Chapter 18
“Hi ,Amanda. I have some news that I'm anxious to share with you. If you're home, please pick up the phone.” Robert waited a few seconds and hung up, then he placed a call to her office, hoping that he would not be bothering her but he was extremely anxious to share the news.
“This is Amanda Dillington. May I help you ?”
“Amanda. It's me. I can't wait to see you and bring you up-to-date. I feel like a new person and I want to share it with you,” Robert, excited, spoke rapidly.
“Can you tell me what it is? I'm on the edge of my seat.”
"What time are you coming home? I can meet you there.” Robert paused. “ I really want to tell you in person.”
“I can be there at 4:45.”
“Great. I'll be there.”
With a couple of hours to kill Robert drove to his apartment and picked up the mail. He made a cup of coffee. There were a few advertisements forwarded to him from the Moore estate by the post office and a bill for the car telephone since it was put in his name, even though the estate was paying the bills. The telephone bill was a notice of shut off for nonpayment. He didn't care since the phone was primarily used as a comfort for Mrs. Moore when he drove her to her various appointments and dinners. Then he thought to himself with the arrest of the two suspects in Mrs. Moore's murder perhaps he should have use of the phone in case the detectives need him and he's not at home. He was concerned about having another expense after he had figured out most everything to be covered.
“I’ll keep it for another month or until this case is over,” he said out loud even though no one else was there. In a way, assuring himself that he was doing the right thing and not being extravagant.
At 4:30 he drove his car to 1700 Rittenhouse and was greeted by the porter and the doorman who got to know him from his frequent visits to see Amanda. They must have realized that Robert was not there on business, since he and Amanda were always hand-in-hand, acting like lovebirds.
At 4:45 Robert knocked on the door and Amanda appeared holding two flutes of champagne, one in each hand.
“Please tell me what's going on. I've been on pins and needles waiting to hear.”
First, he told her about the preliminary arraignment of two suspects in the murder of Mrs. Moore. That, so far it seems as though one of the two entered the house and stole articles. “The detective wants me to be in touch with him often in case I am needed. They only charged the two with burglary since they don’t have enough evidence at this time to charge them with murder in the first degree.
“After the hearing, I left and went to the accountant to see if after paying the IRS inheritance tax, I would have anything left. He figured out that I would have about $75 to $80,000, plus I would be due a refund from the Pennsylvania State inheritance tax amounting to another $22,500. Then, I decided it's time for me to change my direction and I drove immediately to Temple University to re-apply to law school.” Robert hesitated, gathering the courage to continue.
“If you are willing to wait until I graduate and get a position at a law firm, I'd like us to be engaged. I think about you 24 hours a day. Not just passion and love-making but being with you. I've never felt such a joy in my life; that's why I decided that I want to be self-sufficient and go back to law school.”
Amanda just looked at him. They both stood just a few feet away from the doorway; Amanda still held both flutes of champagne.
“Robert, I’m shocked. I know how we've been getting along so great and I do love you, but you're going to have to give me time to think about this.”
Robert reached for the champagne, somewhat elated that she did not reject the idea but at the same time a bit disappointed that she would not commit.
“Let me look at my watch. Hmmm. I think that's enough time. Oh my God, Robert, yes. I am so happy. I love you so much. I think about you all the time. I can't wait to see you. And now with you going back to law school, you will feel so much better about yourself.”
They put down their champagne glasses on a side table and hugged each other for what seemed to be an eternity. She had tears in her eyes and with one hand wiped them away.
Chapter 19
Two days after the preliminary arraignment detective Harrison received a phone call from Marcus C. Reilly Esq., the court-appointed public defender in the case of the State of Pennsylvania versus William Thompson and Albert Young Junior, informing him of his representation.
Detective Harrison being somewhat upset said, “Wait till we get them for murder.”
Attorney Reilly expressed his concern and asked Harrison if they could have a meeting to discuss this.
“Anytime you want, counselor. You tell me.”
The following day Marcus C. Riley, Esquire appeared at detective Harrison's office in Upper Kellington Township. He was young and used that to his advantage to appear naïve when he was probably more intelligent than the detective.
“This is one of my first cases Detective Harrison and I want to do my best to protect my client’s interest. I realize there is an outstanding warrant in Philadelphia for him for a burglary but that's not any bearing on what we have here.”
Detective Harrison felt totally in control and possibly let his guard down. “We already had a positive identification on one of the articles that was stolen from the estate of Mrs. Jacqueline Moore on Monk Road in Gladwyne. This is the same Mrs. Jacqueline Moore that was murdered during the commission of a burglary. Your client on his own volition agreed to be tape-recorded and admitted his entry into the property and the theft of antiques that were found in the trunk of his car.”
“Wow! It looks like do you have a hell of a case against these two. If you don't mind can I listen to the confession?” the public defender asked.
“Gladly, counselor.” Harrison stood up and shouted over the partitions between the cubicles “Simpson, bring me over that tape recording of Billy Thompson’s confession.”
“I'll bring it right over. This damn key keeps giving me problems with my desk drawer.”
Less than a minute later Detective Simpson handed Harrison the tape recorder with the enclosed tape marked ‘Thompson confession.’
Simpson left and Harrison started the recording for public defender Marcus Reilly. Reilly appeared shocked that his client actually admitted to gaining unlawful entry into a private residence and removing numerous antique items mostly all being silver. Reilly then asked who identified the objects that were purportedly stolen to which Detective Harrison told him that it was the person in charge of managing the estate for the past two years.
“You said, Detective, that one of the objects which was stolen was identified. How about all the others? Were they not identified?”
Harrison had no answer. Then he said, “The property manager of the estate certainly doesn't look into every closet and nook and cranny when he's overseeing the entire property.”
“That's very understandable, detective but how is it that he identified one object? Can you show me what that object was?”
“Follow me to the evidence room.”
In a small back room with a heavy-gauge metal wire latticed frame enclosing a counter no one was attending, the detective took a key off his keychain and unfastened the Master lock. On the bench covered in white paper were all the objects that were found in the trunk of the stolen automobile driven by Billy Thompson and his accomplice Albert Young Jr.
“So Detective, out of all these objects your witness was only able to identify one? And which one may I ask?”
Detective Harrison pointed to the golf
trophy that was engraved as being presented to Rodney Moore.
“It looks like you’ve got him, Detective. Do you think we can work out something with the DA for my clients?”
“Counselor, we are looking to prove that either one or both of your clients committed murder during a burglary,” Harrison felt cocky talking down to the young public defender. “They both should face life imprisonment or the death penalty.”
Reilly then asked if either of their fingerprints were found on the premises since the report shows that the fingerprints are on the objects in the trunk of the vehicle it seems obvious that neither one of them wore gloves.
Harrison looked straight at the young attorney without a word. A moment later, he said they must’ve entered the premises but removed them after they left.
“Detective. Did you find any gloves for either one or both of them?”
“Negative,” Harrison replied.
“I'm also a bit confused that you say that you're looking to find them guilty of the murder of Mrs. Moore which happened several months prior to them being apprehended by a local patrol car.”
“That's right, counselor. The items stolen were from the premises of the murder.”
“Detective Harrison, if a pawnshop sold this particular trophy to a customer would you claim that that customer, the recipient of a possibly stolen article, committed murder?”
He continued, “Did you ever check to see where either one of my clients were the day of Mrs. Moore’s murder?”
Detective Harrison realized this young public defender was no dummy that he could manipulate; he had no answers for Riley’s questions.
“Also detective, how was Mrs. Moore murdered?”
“She was shot with a 22-caliber bullet right in her head. Dead on the spot.”
“Detective Harrison, did you find a 22-caliber pistol that belonged to either of my clients?”
“We have not, counselor.”
“I hope to see you at the probable cause hearing next week, detective. It has been a pleasure. Thank you for your time. By the way, I would get Detective Simpson’s evidence drawer repaired,” he said sarcastically.
Harrison wondered if this young kid was playing with his mind.
***
As promised, later that day Detective Harrison received a phone call from Robert Snyder checking in. Harrison informed Robert that they'll be a probable cause hearing the end of next week and told Robert that he would like him there in the event that the district attorney needs him to make a statement regarding the trophy from Mrs. Moore's estate. Without any hesitation, Robert assured the detective that he would be there. Robert also gave the detective the car phone number telling the detective that he will keep it operational until whoever did kill Mrs. Moore is convicted.
***
When the public defender Reilly returned to his office he had the file pulled from Philadelphia to find out what, if any, legal representation Billy Thompson had regarding an open warrant for his arrest for burglary. Then he made arrangements to meet with his clients at the Montgomery County prison the next morning to go over everything that they said and was said to them.
The next day Reilly drove to the Montco Correctional Center on Airy St. in Norristown parking at the courthouse facility assigned to attorneys. He registered at the front desk and was given a temporary identification card. About ten minutes later both of his clients were brought into a secure room with a long desk and four chairs. A correctional officer stood there while Billy Thompson and Albert Young Jr. were seated. The public defender then looked at the officer and asked for privacy. The officer closed the door behind him remaining in position outside of the door.
“You both have a serious problem. The detectives have your tape-recorded confession,” he told Billy Thompson.
“You were both apprehended driving a stolen automobile with a stolen license plate and stolen goods. You are both implicated in the murder of Mrs. J.P. Moore,” Reilly continued. “Is there anything I'm missing?”
“You bet. That's a lot of bullshit. We didn't kill nobody. I don't even have a gun. I never owned a gun. I told that to the detective,” Billy yelled.
“Tell me, Billy. When did you steal the automobile?”
“I didn’t steal it. I wrecked my car and a week before Christmas I rented it from a guy in the bar for fifty bucks but he didn’t have a registration so I kinda figured he stole it. Then after paying him for a month, he disappeared so I didn’t have to pay anymore. The tag expired so I stole one.”
"Now tell me, when did you break into the house and steal the trunk load of silver?”
“Is somebody crazy? I told the cops that fifteen minutes after I threw everything in the trunk, I was just driving down Monk Road and I see a cop behind me flashing his lights. I got no idea how they caught me so quick”.
“You did not steal these items in December and keep them in your trunk until the police caught you?”
“No. That's crazy. Why would I keep that stuff in the trunk for all those months?
“Well, for one, the detectives believe that if you sold the items and they wound up in a pawnshop that would tie you to the murder.”
"What happened in Philadelphia that there's a warrant for your arrest for burglary?” asked Marcus Reilly.
“I don't know. I didn't rob no place for a couple of years and that was a nothing job that wasn't even reported to the police because the guy was a crook that I grabbed some shit from. He’d be afraid to call the police.”
“I'll check with Philadelphia to see if I can get an explanation of the warrant for your arrest. I need to know—and this is extremely important—was anyone in the house when you broke in?”
“If there was anybody, they were deaf. When I went to tie up the silver in the sheet a big coffer pot slid out and landed on the floor. I almost shit myself figuring if anybody was there they would've called the police immediately and I didn't want to see anybody. I just wanted to get my ass out of there as soon as possible.” claimed Billy.
"Now, Albert, the police said that you were the lookout while Billy broke in. Is that correct?”
“Nope. I knew what Billy was going to do and I told him he's crazy I don't want anything to do with it. I just went out with him for a joyride.” Albie responded. “I didn't stop him. He made up his mind. He told me he was broke and needed a couple hundred bucks.”
“One of the items has been positively identified as coming from the house on Monk Road where the murder took place. How do you explain that?” Reilly asked.
“I can't.” Billy shrugged his shoulders. “I got no idea.”
“Next week there will be another hearing to show probable cause. I believe that the district attorney on the information supplied by the two patrolmen and the two detectives will have no problem bringing this case to trial. They might ask at that time for the charge to also include murder in the first degree.”
A stunned Billy sat there almost in tears. “Honestly. You gotta believe me. I didn't kill anybody. No one at all.”
Chapter 20
“Simpson, what were you able to find out about any of our suspects previously owning a 22-caliber pistol?” asked Detective Harrison.
“No good, Theo. I ran everybody's name through the National Crime Information Center and their records just started. Prior to 1980, everything was only entered by hand and even though dealers were required to keep records of any sales for 20 years, we would have to go through every dealer’s records. With all the countless registered dealers it could take years. Finding that information is nearly impossible since we would have to know who the selling dealer was and then check record after record by hand to see if they ever sold to one of our suspects. Without the actual serial number on the pistol we are at a dead end.”
Detective Harrison had an idea. “How about you ask anyone who had access to the house at Hampton Court what they did with a 22-caliber pistol that they owned? Implying that we know that they owned one. If they deny it, then state we
really want the truth because we know that they did have one.”
“But Theo, what good would that do?”
“What do we have to lose? Maybe one of them gives us some bullshit story or just denies ever owning one,” Harrison responded.
***
Over the next three days, Detective Simpson contacted everyone that had access to the Hampton Court main house. He did not want to do any questioning over the phone and made arrangements to meet each of them starting with Stasha, the housekeeper. They met at her apartment off of Edgemont Avenue in Chester Pennsylvania at 6:30 that evening. It was an exhausting experience trying to get her to understand what he meant when he questioned her.
“What did you do with the 22-caliber pistol that you owned?”
She just looked at him as if he were talking gibberish. He then asked if anyone there spoke English and she brought out a friend or an acquaintance named Adam. He wasn't much of an improvement but he did understand detective Simpson’s question. In Polish, he asked her.
Stasha shook her head saying, “No, no, no.”
Moments later, Detective Simpson left their apartment.
The following day in the early afternoon he met with Joanne Lawrence, Mrs. Moore’s physical therapist. She was between visits and welcomed him. She claimed that she never owned any type of handgun but when she was young her father gave her a 12-gauge shotgun and she had no idea where it is. Leaving her he went to meet with the attorney for Mrs. Moore’s estate, William Spaulding Esquire, at his office in Center City.