Echoes in the Darkness (1987)

by Wambaugh, Joseph

  Then the FBI got a call from a federal inmate in Kentucky who said that when he was in prison in Trenton, New Jersey, William Bradfield had come to him looking for a hit man. The FBI pursued the lead extensively all across the country until they found the reported hit man. It came to nothing more than the butchered dogs, the snuff films, the dead hooker and all the rest.

  Joe VanNort just showed the frustrated agents his lopsided grin and said, "Welcome to homicide, boys!"

  The FBI also worked hard on the car of Susan Reinert. Debris jammed under the bumper was analyzed and found to be slag. They explored the possibility that the Reinert children had been taken to a place where the car was backed into a slag heap. But the car still contained half a tank of gas, and since Susan Reinert had filled it Friday afternoon, it wasn't likely that it had gone anywhere but straight to Harrisburg. Unless the killer was willing to stop at a filling station with one body or three in the luggage compartment.

  It was a time-consuming exercise. There's a lot of slag in Pennsylvania and the FBI saw more that year than U.S. Steel.

  The fourth estate was losing confidence. A news headline said: a perfect crime? trail runninc cold in reinert murder case.

  A U.S. attorney for Pennsylvania's eastern district was

  3uoted as saying, "There's a rule of thumb among homicide

  etectives that if no significant clues to the murder are uncovered within the first forty-eight hours of theslaying, the investigation proceeds proportionately downhill."

  When he could no longer avoid them, Joe VanNort told reporters that he'd worked homicides that were solved in three days and others that took eighteen months.

  When he was asked by a reporter about the fate of the Reinert children he characteristically got his syntax tangled and said, "My guess is as good as yours."

  That brought the seers into the news. One described a seance where she'd "seen" the shallow grave of the children.

  Ken Reinert saved all the stories.

  "I cried a lot during those times," Ken Reinert later said, "but the only time I cried from happiness was when the FBI entered the case. It was the first time I felt involved and not powerless. I'd done as much as I could through my congressman and the U.S. attorney to make it happen."

  He tried to talk to Joe VanNort on the Monday that the FBI arrived. Ken Reinert wanted to tell the old cop that he'd helped bring in the feds, thinking VanNort would be glad. But he couldn't say what he wanted to say because he began weeping.

  Ken Reinert believed that Joe VanNort was hardened to murder. He eventually directed all inquiries to Special Agent Matt Mullin who was working his first murder case and seemed to care about what Ken Reinert was feeling.

  "For the first time I understand what the families of MI As experience," Ken Reinert told him. "Not knowing is the most terrible thing you can imagine."

  Lawmen were disturbing the peace of the residents of Woodcrest Avenue in Ardmore. The neighborhood went gray with guys in cheap suits.

  "It's like an invasion," one complained. "They use up all the parking on the street and they swoop in at all hours."

  The task force found a statement of Susan Reinert's savings from Continental Bank that showed deposits of $30,000 in December, 1978. Some of her later withdrawals and notations caught their interest.

  2/15/79 1500 B cash

  2/20/79 1500 B cash

  2/21/79 10,000 T. check Am

  3/2/79 5000 B cash

  There were several cash withdrawals, adding up to $25,500.

  A bank statement from American Bank showed total deposits of $15,000 in late February and early March, followed by checks for cash in amounts of $10,000 and $5,000.

  There seemed to be money shuffled from one bank to another and a lot of cash transactions that would need to be explained, particularly after another financial document was found.

  It was a typed form entitled "credit memo." It was dated February 24, 1979, and reflected that Susan Jane Gallagher Reinert owned 25 percent of a $100,000 certificate that drew 12 percent interest plus or minus, and would pay in six months.

  The salesman of the certificate was E. S. Perritt, Jr., and the person who had approved the transaction was M. E. McEvey. The entire transaction had been handled by Bache and Company.

  The cops weren't terribly shocked to discover from a phone call that Bache and Company had no employees named Perritt or McEvey, and had never heard of Susan Reinert.

  On her calendar diary were the following entries:

  22 Feb $3500, money-ring to courier 1 May Sailing test

  20 May Bradfield in Harrisburg, Smith trial

  31 May Smith trial over-guilty

  4 June B left angry

  13 June Sick, depressed, lawyer cancelled

  14 June Last day of school. Maybe last day to see Sue

  Myers. Freeze. Wonder what's going on.

  18 June Call

  23 June P.W.P. moderator's workshop. Reservations

  G. W. Motor Lodge

  One of the most puzzling notations was the "ring to courier." After the telephone records of everyone connected with the Reinert case were subpoenaed, it was discovered that on February 22nd a telephone call had been made to St. John's College in Santa Fe from Susan Reinerts phone. They learned it had been made in the morning, when Susan Reinert was at her doctor's office for a breast examination.

  She didn't make the call, so whoever did might have had something to do with the $3,500 and a "ring to courier."

  The cops found a teaching application addressed to the

  Department of Health, Education and Welfare, Washington, DC.

  In the "personality" box was the following:

  Mrs. Reinert is a strong minded individual who maintains a becoming professional posture even in the most trying circumstances (confrontations, discipline, etc.).

  I lived abroad myself as a civilian and as an Army colonel. I have known Mrs. Reinert for eight years. I have no reservations in recommending her to you. I can state securely that she will be a plus factor to your program. She is a person you can depend on to fulfill her commitments and who will be a teacher that exemplifies the best aspects of American Education.

  Jay C. Smith

  (Principal of Upper Merion Senior High School 1966 to 1978. Promoted to district director, special services.)

  There was another reference to HEW along with Jay

  Smiths:

  Mrs. Reinert is an extremely able and sensitive person who holds very high standards of integrity for herself. She would, it seems to me, be an ideal representative of this country. I recommend her to you without reservation.

  William S. Bradfield, Jr. (Teacher of advanced placement English, Latin and Creek.)

  There was a sad letter written by Susan Reinert to Bertha Perez of the USAA insurance company:

  For clarification, please tell me what is covered under accidental death. For example, if I fall off the back of a sailboat, or if I am shot, are those considered accidents? (Not that I'm planning on either of those situations!!)

  Two months later, an insurance agent wrote:

  The applicant wanted it known that the reason she applied for insurance was to protect her children. She is going to England, taking her two children with her on a teacher exchange program. She will spend one year in England starting in July or August. Eventually, Mr. B. will visit her and they will be married in England.

  Susan Reinert was not granted the fellowship for which she was recommended by Jay Smith and William Bradfield. A brief letter arrived in April saying that the number of qualified candidates greatly exceeded the number of positions available. She didn't have even that little triumph.

  Some of the FBI agents who waded through every scrap of paper in the Reinert house reported being charmed by the photos of the children, especially Karen's.

  "That kid was a photographer's dream," one special agent said. "She was meant to be a great-looking woman."

  And they noticed that they'd all begun talking
about the children in the past tense.

  It is unknown if any of the agents read an astonishing document written by Michael Reinert a month before his tenth birthday and subsequent disappearance. It was a story for his fifth-grade English class:

  One day I took a trip on a rocket into space. I was headed for the moon. But instead, because I was hit with a falling star I came to be on a weird planet.

  I couldn't see a soul in sight. All of a sudden, I saw ten people that looked alike. One of them went behind me. One of them went to one side. One went to the other side. One went to the front. Then they put me into a cage. They threw me into a ditch with a bunch of worms. Then came Mr. Hyde (Dr. Jeckyl) to kill me. Then I just remembered that I had a duplication gun. So I shot myself with it and they didn't know which one was the real me. That is how I got away. I was glad when I repaired my rocket ship so that I could leave the weird planet. The press wanted me to tell them about my trip. I said, "No way!" Nobody knew why I wouldn't tell them, but I'll tell you. I never wanted to remember it again.

  Any cop or FBI agent would have found it chilling. Michael Reinert had perhaps written a prophetic story. Michael had perhaps identified his abductor.

  The children were being sighted all over the eastern half of the country from communes to gypsy camps. Then the old rumor surfaced that Eddie and Stephanie Hunsberger were somehow involved in Jay Smiths life of crime.

  There was a newspaper headline in September that posed a question: are reinert children with smith's dauchter?

  One of the cops had a very cynical and grim answer to that one.

  He said, "You bet they are."

  By then, most of them believed that the children were in a ditch. With a bunch of worms.

  Chapter 18

  Buses and Bombs

  The Reinert task force installed their own phones and had their own stenographers at the state police barracks. Each day the teams of agents and state cops were assigned leads to pursue. Agent Don Redden had to report to the special agent in charge of the Philadelphia office at least every other day.

  The FBI referred to the massive joint investigation as SUMUR, for Susan Murder. The code name allowed for quicker communication and better information storage. It was rare that an FBI criminal case was important enough to get a code name.

  Don Redden pointed out to the state cops that the designation SUMUR gave their investigation the status of a major government case.

  Joe VanNort said it sounded like typical FBI bullshit, but it was hokey enough that Bill Bradfield might like it.

  It took three months for the cause of death to be finally established. The toxicology examination of Susan Reinerts blood and tissue samples revealed about 1.1 micrograms morphine per milliliter of blood-about ten times the normal medical dose and enough to kill even a junkie pretty fast. The concentration was so high she'd just stopped breathing, hence, asphyxiation. She'd also been given a mild barbiturate sedative, probably to quiet her.

  The Carlisle mote) matchbook found in Susan Reinerts car didn't help. She'd stayed at that motel with another woman teacher some months before her death. But the task force learned that on that occasion she'd driven into Harrisburg to meet Bill Bradfield at Harrys, a popular watering hole in a seedy neighborhood. Bill Bradfield liked seedy neighborhoods.

  A friend and associate from Parents Without Partners told the state police that Susan Reinert and Bill Bradfield had planned to go to her mothers former home in Ridgway, Pennsylvania, to "attend to some legal matter," and that they were taking the children. The cops wondered if the reference to "lawyer" in die June diary entry may have referred to this.

  One week before her death, Susan called that friend and told the woman that she was never going to marry Bill Bradfield because he kept canceling appointments with attorneys about "certain legal questions."

  But then she called back five days before her death and said that everything had been "smoothed out."

  Then Susan Reinert said something puzzling. She said that she and her friend could have no more contact. The reason given was that it was "getting too close to the time that Sue Myers might do something.

  Susan would not explain further. She was very secretive toward the end.

  The state cops had talked to every neighbor and friend of Susan Reinert who had come to their attention and the feds were duplicating the effort. Just after they came into the case the FBI interviewed sixteen-year-old Elizabeth Ann Brook, the granddaughter of Susan Reinerts next-door neighbor, Mary Cove. Beth Ann described the eerie hailstorm and the clothing that they'd all been wearing when she last saw them. It didn't seem like a significant interview at the time.

  Before going back to college in California, Shelly returned Bill Bradfield's money and accompanied him to a storage locker on Route 202 near West Chester.

  He told Shelly that he had to store the red IBM typewriter as well as some other dangerous things. The typewriter, he said, had been used by Dr. Smith and Mrs. Reinert to type some things that could get him in trouble. Shelly learned that the assignment to rent the storage was given to Chris Pappas.

  Before returning to college, Shelly told the FBI and state cops that she'd been with Bill Bradfield on Friday, June 22nd, taking a stroll around Haverford College, his old alma mater.

  During a later interview she amended the time she'd been with Bill Bradfield to cover the period when they were withdrawing money from the safety deposit box, and perhaps saying farewell to an ostrich.

  Shelly s girlfriend talked to the cops and then flew to Austria to visit relatives, but the FBI had INTERPOL chase her down to ask her a few more questions.

  Sue Myers, Chris Pappas and Bill Bradfield took private polygraph exams for $125 each and were found to be absolutely truthful. Chris took another for the FBI and was found to be deceptive.

  He later admitted that during the "truthful" exam he'd been lying worse than Stalin at Yalta.

  Living in a Philadelphia motel and going home to Harrisburg only on weekends was probably hardest on Jack Holtz because of his son. Jason was the same age as Karen Reinert and he knew that a boy that age needed his old man. Jack Holtz called his parents almost every night to reassure his son that the case couldn't last much longer.

  When he and Joe VanNort were sitting in their rooms at night watching TV, it was obvious that VanNort worried about Holtz being away from his son. Joe VanNort frequently needed reassurance from his young partner that working for him hadn't been the primary cause of Jack's marriage rupture.

  Jack Holtz never forgot how shaken Joe had been when he first admitted that Chaz had left home for good. They were on a flight to Alabama during a tough investigation. You'd think Jack Holtz had just announced he was going to Morocco for a sex change.

  "It's worlcin' crime, ain't it?" Joe VanNort had said. "Did that wreck your marriage, workin' crime with me?"

  Holtz tried to reassure the old cop by saying, "It's for the best. She's gone and it's over."

  But Joe was stricken with Catholic guilt and he actually hushed Jack Holtz and said, "Don't tell nobody I"

  Holtz looked around and said, "Joe, who can I tell? I don't know anybody on this airplane!"

  It was during the long nights in those motel rooms in Philadelphia, drinking and watching the frequent flame of Joe's cigarettes flowering in the gloom, that Jack Holtz wished hard for a break in the case, while Joe VanNort prayed for one.

  Wishes and prayers were about to be answered by a Clark Kent-ish young English teacher who'd been carrying twice his weight in guilt and fear for two months. The heavy load was dumped on him at the memorial service for Susan Reinert.

  It was a Unitarian service and was held in the evening in a chapel in Malvern. Ken Reinert was there, and Pat Gallagher, and all of Susan Reinerts friends, and her psychologist, and most of her colleagues.

  Pat Schnure was crying her eyes out and saying to everyone within earshot, "Make a note of who's not here!"

  She was of course referring to the Bradfield retinu
e, but one of them was there. Vince Valaitis was praying harder in that Unitarian chapel than he'd ever prayed in a Catholic cathedral. With the stories in the news about the Bradfield Bunch he figured that everyone thought they were a pack of killers. He felt that therapist Roslyn Weinberger was glaring at him.

  It was a sad little ceremony with various people saying a few things about Susan Reinert as a teacher and mother and friend. When it was over, Vince tried to tough it out by holding his head up and saying hello to everybody, but he felt his colleagues trying to avoid him. For the very first time in his life he saw people staring at him with fear in their eyes.

  Vince had been the only one giving press releases. To one reporter he said, "We're not part of any sort of cult. Bill Bradfield doesn't want anyone's money. He doesn't care about things of this world. He cares about a better world. And as for me, I'm not some kind of killer! Why, I'm a God-fearing person. How many twenty-eight-year-olds do you know who carry rosary beads?"

  Vince had informed his colleague Bill Scutta that he wished he could join a seminary and become a priest. Preferably a Trappist monastery in Tibet.

  One night, Vince went for a drive to sort things out. He drove through Valley Forge Park and admired the flora, and tried to think good things about Susan Reinert, and said some prayers for her and her children. Somehow he just couldn't go home. All he could do was drive and think and pray.

  Then a funny thing happened. The sky was no longer where it was supposed to be. Something else was up there in its place: a bunch of titanic inkblots. It was only a storm taking shape, but not to Vince. And what did the inkblots contain? Nothing much. Only hairnets full of trapped leering demons.

  The next time Vince looked at the swirling inkblots he saw cowled shrouded figures chanting in Latin as they made ready for a black mass. And Vince took a leap into full-scale panic.

  When Vince later told the story of that night, he used the word "Gothic." The National Weather Service verified that it had not been a Vince Valaitis Gothic hallucination. The sky did go black. The Rorschach test in heaven was split by shards of lightning. The thunder rattled the trees in Valley Forge and the rain cascaded down.