A Death in California

by Barthel, Joan;

  The first one was that you stop taking all kinds of pills. The second one is that you would gain ten pounds. The third one was that you become a good housekeeper by closing drawers and picking up your clothes, etc., etc. Four would be wait. Just wait, period. And five; save those backrubs. Oh, I thought maybe it might make you smile a bit there. Yes, well, I’m sure that it probably won’t now, but I don’t know. You can smile even in a bad situation like this. Sure. There’s always room for a smile.

  Well, let me look at my list of things that I wanted to cover with you. Oh, I do wish to impress upon you that your father’s home phone is tapped and is being monitored by the police, and I would suggest you stop your cooperation with the authorities in giving them statement after statement after statement. They’ve elected to charge you now. The evidence they’re going to bring forward, if it goes that far, would—could be blown apart by just one appearance of one witness. I have no desire to come into court and take the witness stand and give testimony for you. I have no desire for the authorities to know my identity. I have no desire for a number of things, but before I would see you separated from your children, I would do that for you. I don’t know why I’d do it for you. I mean, I don’t owe you a damn thing. Yeah—besides, you’re so ugly. Mmmm … don’t like you a bit. Right. No, can’t stand anybody who won’t kiss before they brush their teeth. Yeah.

  See, aren’t you glad you didn’t let anybody listen to this tape? I wish I could be more frank, more candid with it, but until I know where the tape went, until I know that we’re respecting each other mutually, that we’re out for the same purpose, to extract you—extradite you—out of this trouble, and see you’re restored to a reasonable position in society and, you know, back and join your children, I’m going to be a little hesitant about being—about just letting it all hang out on these tapes.

  From time to time I’ll contact you. Obviously I’m not going to send somebody by with these tapes because that person would be arrested. It’s becoming more difficult to watch and provide you some protection. I’ve been a little bit happy while you’ve been in jail, as a matter of fact, because that was one of the safer places for you. While I couldn’t get to you, nobody else could either. But there’ll be somebody around close, never too far. There’s going to be that buffer of the police in between, watching you, but who knows? One or two of those may be in my team. You never know what happens. It’s a funny world.

  I’ll do what I told you I was going to do. I will do it at the appropriate time. I think we both know what we’re talking about, and that party has been with someone ever since this whole thing has come up, but certainly he’s not going to get to you. No, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get to you. Just have a little faith and a little trust in me. I haven’t let you down completely yet, have I? Obviously the minute I knew you were arrested I could’ve left the area, left the country, and sat back and watched the newspapers and laughed, but I didn’t do that, so I’m taking the risk of staying around. I’m taking the risk of trying to help you, and I will help you, but have faith in me and know that when the proper time presents itself to take care of that situation to see that you are never bothered or troubled by that individual again, it will be done.

  Moneywise, it would be very unwise for me to give you any money or see that your life is made more comfortable at this particular time. You’re going to have to suffer it out. It would be one of those things you would have to explain where it had come from; it would create more problems than it’s worth. So be poor. Enjoy being poor. There’s lots of people in the world who don’t know how good it is to be poor, so enjoy being poor. Mmm … while I would love to see you and sit down and frankly talk and hash everything out, and decide what we’re going to do—well, this isn’t the time to do that either.…

  That’s about all I can think of right now. I’m going to blip off and see if you’re available. So—try to be good. Try and stay out of jail. Try and put a little weight on. Stop taking all those pills. Don’t give anyone a backrub. And wait. Be patient. I’ll come through. Ole Mr. Fix-it will fix it yet. Okay? Give the kids a kiss for me. Bye-bye.

  Back again. It appears to be impossible to get through to you today. It’s now about twenty minutes to five on a Saturday afternoon and I’m stretched out on the sofa. The tape recorder is on the coffee table next to me, and I am wondering what are the best things to say to you.… If there was any way that I could have reached out and taken your hand and touched you and let you know why you’re in the jail, that there is somebody that cares, that there is somebody that isn’t going to desert you, that there is somebody that’s interested not in anything other than just you, and your children and making sure that you find some degree of happiness.…

  Just let me get you out of this one. Let me get you on a good, even track and ooohh … it’s not to say that I wouldn’t be interested. I always find you interesting even if you do have some hangups. You need ten pounds. You take too many goofy pills. You have to have your teeth brushed in the morning. Oh, yes, I remember all those cute little things. Yep, the barefoot girl—just rattle on, talk a mile a minute—talk my ear off. I’ve never listened to anybody as much as I’ve listened to you. It was delightful.

  Sure, I’ll always sleep by your unlocked door. I’ll do anything you want, within reason. Just remember the thing I taught you: self-preservation is the strongest urge in anybody so, within reason, I’ll—within my means—I’ll see that you’re out to enjoy life. Well, you never know. It’s been a funny time. Let me see how much more I have on this tape. Oh, I might talk a little bit more and then I think I’ll get this in the mail because I want you to get it the first thing Monday.

  Yes, I wonder what you’re doing right now besides talking to detectives and lawyers and sitting around wringing your hands and smoking too many cigarettes. You know, you really do smoke too much. Yeah, you ought to slow down. It’s time to make a lot of little changes in your life. Well, I’ll let you tell me what’s wrong with me, too, you know; it’s a twoway street, it’s not a oneway expressway. Sure, you can tell me what’s wrong provided that I can always tell you what’s wrong, too. Oh, well.

  God, I miss those kids already. Sure, they bug you and they get on your nerves, but they’re also pretty cute kids. I couldn’t get over how nice Hope was that morning I drove her to school. Of course, K.C.’s a little charmer, he delights everyone, but then children that age are that way. But Keith—I think I could be very fond of him, enjoying sporting things, you know, doing boy-man sort of things, but that morning I drove Hope to school she was a completely different person than when she was throwing things around. It could be a nice relationship … hmmm—very nice. I found your family to be very impressive and delightful. I like their mother. Of course, I like the mother the best. Well, I like the mother in a different way, even if you are a grinch at times. Bossy. The very idea of telling me what to do just rubbed me the right way. No, you didn’t do anything that really hurt my feelings, or said anything. We got along fine, I thought.

  Too bad there wasn’t time for more Hamburger Hamlets and had it been a nicer day, go to the beach and riding around. God, I’ll never forget that brief twenty minutes up there on the hillside above the ranch—you know, looking out and you sitting on the grass and saying that you were just too weak to walk any further, and I coaxed you into coming up to that next little rock. You didn’t know quite what to make of me and all those strange thoughts. Oh, yes, once—once I know that we’re on the right track and that everything can be completely trustworthy between the two of us, I’ll sit down, start from the beginning, and I’ll put the whole thing on a tape and make it available to you. You know, I just—I want to be certain what you’ve said and how you’ve said it and what the missing things—I don’t want to give any more information than I need to give to get you out of trouble, and I’m definitely not going to put anybody else in jail. I’m not going to put myself in jail, naturally. I’m not going to say, ‘Golly, guys, here I am.’ Gee, tha
t could be the worst thing. In fact, it would probably hurt you. I can’t imagine that my appearance and identity would do you any good, that it would only do you harm. I think we’d be in cells side by side and the newspapers would have a tremendous day.

  Oh, God, I’d like to see you right now. Yeah, I know. I’m relaxed and thinking and getting instant replays to you bouncing around and doing that and doing this, sharing my drink and oh, that backrub. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. If I thought the massage parlors were half as good as you are, I’d be out in one every day.

  Well, it would be nice to do that every day. Get the kids to bed and just kind of relax in front of a fire someplace and have our own time. Oh, probably never will. Probably never will come true. It’s one of those things, you know—I’m reminded of a song. ‘We almost made it this time, gal.’ How did that go? Well, I think you know which one I mean. No, I didn’t see anything I didn’t like. Oh, so we can’t talk this way. You’re in trouble. You’re worried. You’re walking the floor. You’re wringing your hands. There’s a million people that want to listen to this tape. Forget it. I do suggest that after you listen to this tape once or twice and you’ve gotten everything out of it you want, that you take your fingers and unwind the tape and put it into the toilet and flush it or burn it or destroy it in some way that no one may ever hear what’s on this, because even though I tended to be careful and yet let you know I’m for you, there are things on here that, you know, if they fall into the wrong hands could be very harmful to you.…

  I like you. I must like you, or I wouldn’t be hanging around this area, taking a chance on never leaving. Oh, I know you promised you’d write to me if I ever landed in prison, but I just wonder how long that would last. You don’t look to me as if you’d be much of a writing type. No, I don’t think you would sit down and write me a letter a day, or a letter a week. No, your life has to go on, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m going to say it again: I’m going to say it so that you really believe me and understand:

  Hope, I’m not going to leave you in this trouble. I’m not going to rush forward and suddenly present myself to the Beverly Hills police, or the county sheriff up there in the Springville area, or go in and talk to the judge or any of those things. I’m going to—I’m going to stick by you in such a way as to provide you with the information and all the resources of my people so as to get you out of this trouble.

  There’s no reason for you ever being arrested. You’ve done nothing. You’ve committed no crime. You were not involved in anyone’s death. You were not involved in actively concealing—I don’t think that—I think you realize that you had no opportunity to use the phone to call the authorities, that I’m willing to tell anyone that wants to listen that you were under my control and custody the entire time that we were together from when we left the ranch. You had no opportunity whatsoever to use the phone. You were frightened to death that what happened, happened and you were functioning on the premise of self-preservation. You wanted to do everything that would ensure you and your family complete safety.

  So you’ve played the game fair and square with me up to this point. I’m not too sure what you’ve told the police. I’m going to ask you. I’m sure that you’ll be frank and truthful with me, but since you played it fair and square with me, I’ll play it fair and square with you. I’m going to do everything in my power and everything in my financial resources to get you out of trouble. It’s the best I can do. It’s not the best, it’s the least I can do. I think very much of you. I don’t know, what more can I say than, hey, hey! I’m going to stay here. I’m going to help you. Okay? That’s all there is to it.

  There’ll be days that I call. There’ll be other days that I don’t. Maybe two days will go by, or three days, but whenever I feel that you need me, or whenever I feel that the world is pressing in and that something has to be done to alleviate the problems, I’ll be in touch. Right. So that’s about all I’m going to put on this tape. Get it in the mail to you. Bear in mind you’re not guilty of a single thing. You didn’t kill anybody, you didn’t have anybody killed, that you weren’t involved. That you’re just a poor innocent woman with three children that was trying to make the best out of life, and from what I know of it, a life that hadn’t treated you too well.

  Well, maybe we can get it straightened out. I certainly know that I’d love to come home to you. There must be somebody out there that’s just right for you, because I don’t see why a sweet young thing like you isn’t married and very happily married and provided with all the comforts in the world that you need, but that’s neither here nor there. Stiff upper lip.

  Stop taking all those pills. Start gaining some weight. You want the rest of the list? The rest of the list is—become a good housekeeper by closing the drawers and picking up your clothes. Four is, wait. Five is, save those backrubs.

  Oh, you never know when I just may come up to you and say, ‘Hi there, guy.’ I’m sure you wouldn’t even recognize me. I was pretty close to you yesterday. Well, for all you know, I may be an old man with a bald head and greasy cigar stains out of the corner of my mouth, and looking like I just left the grocery store where I work, or something.

  You know, I’ve got that chameleon type personality. It changes. You happened to see one side of me; there are other sides. I can be any number of things, but I’m safe, standing by, to help you pick up the pieces. Don’t mind anything you ask me to do.

  I think a great deal of you, Hope. Okay? Don’t play games with the police, just simply tell them that if they charge you, that you have no further statements to make, that you will conduct all of your business through your attorneys; tell your attorneys that you are not going to make any further statements, you’re not going to answer any more prolonged questions, that you’ve answered all the statements, all the questions that you’ve been asked. Either get on with the nonsense of bringing you in for charges, or leave you alone and dismiss anything that’s been brought against you to this date. In the meantime, I’ll be scuffling around digging up enough information that will totally clear you of anything.…

  Well dear, I’d like to say some tender little things to you, but this isn’t the place or the time. Bear it in mind that you must’ve had some effect to keep a cold-hearted bastard like me around, trying to get you out of the fire. Okay? All good wishes to you. Big kiss. Just for you. Give the kids a kiss. Bye-bye.

  Tom Breslin felt an actual shiver as he listened to the tape. He felt he had never heard anything so evil in his life.

  At forty-three, with fifteen years of big-city law practice behind him, including a stint as a prosecutor before joining Ned Nelsen’s firm, Tom Breslin was not naive. He had talked with killers. But he had never known anything as sinister, as truly frightening as the soft, velvety, insinuating voice on the tape, and the entire affair began to make terrifying sense.

  Tom had suspected, almost from the beginning, that the man named Taylor was more than a knight in a white Lincoln who had rescued the maiden. Ned and Gene had agreed with him that Taylor’s role at the ranch must have been darker than that. Gene said he had put two and two together soon after Taylor’s first call to him, at home. In that call, and in subsequent calls, Gene said the man sounded far too glib. “His answers were too pat, too fast; there were inflections in his voice that gave me a gut feeling he was lying,” Gene said.

  But when Hope had said nothing more about him, even after she was out on bail and home relatively free, her team was baffled. “She’s away from him,” Gene had said. “She’s free from him. Why continue to take the rap for him?”

  They were convinced Hope was afraid, though they were not certain why she was so afraid, after they’d discounted the Mafia angle. “There’s no Mafia here,” Tom had told Hope. “Anytime somebody’s involved with the organization, you can be sure they’re not going to tell you.” Even after that, Tom had been struck by the depth of her fear, especially after she’d called him that one morning. He could hear K.C. wailing in
the background, the older children squabbling, the vacuum cleaning roaring.

  “Tom, it’s a madhouse here. Do you think it would be all right if my children went outside in the yard and played?”

  Now, sitting in Honey’s living room, Tom understood. He listened to a man who spoke so soothingly, so comfortingly, the man who wanted to buy Hope a white dress, his voice caressing “the barefoot girl,” dripping romance and nostalgia, brilliantly, cruelly playing on her innermost susceptibilities, her most ravenous psychological needs, especially the need for a strong, caring man to solve her life for her: “I’m not far away dear. I’m going to stay close.… Mr. Fix-it will get you through this one.… Hang in, dear. Know that I care for you and know that I respect your position.… You’re an awful nice person.… There is somebody that cares … there is somebody that’s interested not in anything other than just you.… I’ve never listened to anybody as much as I’ve listened to you.… I think a great deal of you, Hope.… That backrub … it would be nice to do that every day. Get the kids to bed and just kind of relax in front of a fire someplace and have our own time.… ‘We almost made it this time, gal.’… Big kiss. Just for you.” This tape, thought Breslin, was not simply a narrative from a marauding killer. This was a love letter from a man who wanted a woman entirely—body, mind, and soul.

  Tom looked at Hope, sitting on the rug, her feet tucked under her, her head bent forward, her long hair streaming across her face. He could not tell what she was thinking or feeling. Voices were swirling around the room—agitated, skeptical, bewildered voices—but Hope seemed not to hear.

  Tom and Ned were busy at their desks early the next morning, when the call came. Agent Paul Luther of the FBI asked to come over.