It was a hopeful cop who arrived at the museum that afternoon in August and climbed the steps made famous in Rocky. He talked to the director who verified that the pins had been in use in June of last year, and were given to show that admission was paid. They were handed out by museum guards who used eight different colors on various days.
Jack Holtz went to Karen Reinerts neighborhood school and learned that the fifthand sixth-grade classes had gone to the museum on a field trip in the spring of 1979. The principal informed Jack Holtz that Karen Reinhert had, in fact, attended school on the day of the museum field trip. Then he learned that four boys from her class remembered the pins. They'd been green. Two remembered Karen being along on the trip. One boy had saved his pin and turned it over to the police. It was identical to the one they had.
Their chain was getting longer. Not long enough to bind. But longer.
The last real duty Chris Pappas ever performed for Bill Bradfield had to do with closing out the safety deposit box. He did an extra-swell job on that mission.
When the bank teller had concluded their business and told him to have a good day, she'd left the signature cards on the counter. Chris Pappas leaned over and snatched three of the four signature cards, so that if the authorities found the box they wouldn't be able to prove that Bill Bradfield had anything to do with the rental.
His mentor was very proud of him.
Chris Pappas was at Shellys house when he saw a news report that detailed Bill Bradfield's testimony in Orphans Court. Chris was stunned. Bill Bradfield had lied under oath about everything.
An hour later, Bill Bradfield and Chris and Shelly were strolling through Valley Forge Park having a little rehearsal. Bill Bradfield was positive that when the grand jury sat in
September, they'd all get a subpoena. He asked Shelly if she'd take a walk and let him talk privately with Chris.
When they were alone Bill Bradfield asked, "How do you feel?" "Okay. I feel okay." ^Will you stand by me?" "Haven't I always?"
"Vince deserted me. I think Sue might desert me. You won't, will you?" "Desert you? No."
"Will you keep your silence about certain things?" "What things?"
"The money? All the other things?" "I'll try to stay loyal. Creeks're stubborn," Chris Pappas said.
Bill Bradfield didn't look too happy about the evasive reply. As they walked, Bill Bradfield made notes on a checklist and scratched things off. And Chris was getting sick to his stomach as he realized that Bill Bradfield was not only trying to maintain his allegiance but was letting Chris know how strong and dangerous was this bond between them.
They sat on the grass, on the ground consecrated by the Revolutionary patriots, and Bill Bradfield handed Chris a brief on what to tell the grand jury. It was actually a scenario. The dialogue didn't sparkle, but it made its point:
Bill told me that this Smith is really a bad person with a bad character. He said, "I wish I hadn't seen him at Ocean City but I did, so 111 have to testify to that because it's true."
Smith talked about getting the police and other people. Wishing, thinking, they ought to be dead, wanting to kill them.
Bill said, "I don't know whether he's serious or not. I sure hope no one kills Susan Reinert."
Bill Bradfield must've thought that was a wee bit self-serving so he crossed out the last line. He also deleted a reference to Jay Smith wanting to kill the cops, possibly figuring it might not play in Peoria.
That woman has told me she's leaving her children to me and all sorts of crazy stuff. She's sure chasing me. She
says she's dating some real weirdos too. I told her she's going to get herself heat up or killed.
If she gets herself killed and leaves me her children, if she pushes her children on me, I'll fight it in court. That's illegal.
But that also seemed a kit over the top for a budding scenarist, so he crossed out the part about her leaving him the children.
That'll sure put me in a horrible mess. I wish she'd leave Upper Merion, leave the area all together.
They both scribbled changes in the script, which continued with lines that Chris was supposed to say when asked for opinions:
Bill seemed pissed off at Mrs. Reinert and concerned about the weekend and vacation.
After that, Bill Bradfield composed a list of likely questions, and answers to same.
Question: Would you say that Mr. Bradfield suspected that Mrs. Reinert would be killed?
Answer: No. He was worried about her, concerned for her. He told me he wished she'd go abroad or something. I think he said he wrote a recommendation for her for a job.
Question: Did Mr. Bradfield say Smith told him of killing her?
Answer: No. Robbing? No. Drugs? No. Kinky sex? No. Illegal firearms? No.
Question: Did Mr. Bradfield ever show you firearms which he said were Smith's? Answer: No.
Question: Did you and Mr. Bradfield ever plan to kill Smith?
Answer: Kill him? No, of course not.
The second page of the script listed many more questions and the answers were supposed to be obvious to a man of Chris's accomplishments.
Did Mr. Bradfield ever spend the night at Mrs. Reinerts?
Did Mrs. Reinert visit Mr. Bradfield at Annapolis in 1978?
Did Mr. Bradfield ever tell you about Dr. Smith? Did Mr. Bradfield ever mention Dr. Smith in connection with any murder or robbery? Were you involved in the making of a silencer? Did you ever take out a storage bin? Did you ever take out a safety deposit box? Did Mr. Bradfield ever show you a large sum of cash money?
Where have you obtained the money you recently spent on lawyers, bail, etc.?
Did you think Mrs. Reinert was going to be killed on the weekend of June 22nd?
Did Mr. Bradfield seem to think so? Did you know of Mr. Bradfield and Shelly sharing motel rooms?
Did you know of any romantic involvement between Mr. Bradfield and Shelly?
What is the relationship between Mr. Bradfield and Rachel?
Did Mr. Bradfield order you to go to the shore that weekend?
Did you speak to Mr. Valaitis in reference to Dr. Smith? Did Mr. Bradfield instruct or influence you?
The last question was almost too much, even for a disciple as dedicated and earnest as Chris Pappas.
And then Chris wrote some of his answers on the margin of the scenario. His dialogue wasn't so hot either, but he mollified his pal.
I'll fight that in court. She's nuts. Delete "pissed off at."
Bill Bradfield warned Chris that the FBI might try to make something of his past relationship with Tom, die homosexual lodger, but Chris thought they should be worrying about things other than homosexual innuendo.
Bill Bradfield said to Chris Pappas, "Sometimes I think I've been pathological about women. Sometimes I think I've used them, and that I didn't try very hard for a lasting relationship."
Chris Pappas immediately thought of a book by the daughter of Ezra Pound who wrote of her fathers philandering.
As though he was reading Chris's mind. Bill Bradfield said, "You know, if I went to jail, abandoned and scorned by all those I've loved, I'd use the time for study. Maybe I'd even come to enjoy the solitude."
Chris Pappas thought of Ezra Pound himself, confined first in jail then in an asylum: disgraced, vilified, abandoned by his friends.
He didn't want to think that this was what it was all about! He didn't want to go to state prison because William Bradfield wanted to be Ezra Pound!
Chris Pappas's chest felt like a round cage with a pigeon fluttering inside. Now the bird was pecking at his guts. He was welcoming home the long-gone childhood ulcer.
Chris wanted to talk to somebody. At that moment he knew that he'd eventually be calling the FBI.
When Sue Myers locked out Bill Bradfield, she wouldn't give him anything but his clothes. She even kept the five thousand books. Among the other things she held on to were documents that he thought were safe from her prying eyes.
One warm autumn day
Sue Myers invited Chris to come and "look over some things."
Maybe she sensed that Chris was already talking to the FBI or getting ready to do it. She gave him some papers and asked him to take them home to determine if they were "important."
Bill Bradfield had always underestimated Sue Myers. She didn't miss a whole lot. She knew what she was giving Chris was meaningful and she probably knew what he'd do with it.
When Chris decided to call the task force it was ten times better than when Vince Valaitis had done it. Chris Pappas knew so much more. Chris had been involved in all the activity that was in itself illegal, all the business with weapons and money.
When Chris talked, he implicated Shelly in criminal activity, since she'd kept the money hidden and had disposed of a gun with a silencer. Best of all, Chris and Shelly had both heard a whole lot of talk about Jay Smith, and some of it could be corroborated by physical evidence. Chris Pappas started cleaning out his chamber of horrors and his file boxes.
As the relationship between Christopher Pappas and the authorities blossomed, Chris gave them documents he'd received from both Sue Myers and Bill Bradfield.
One of the documents was a note in Bill Bradfields own hand wherein he made his list of things that had to be addressed in the event of a grand jury probe.
That list included potential witnesses and friends of Susan Reinert, and things to worry about:
Letters stolen. Mail fraud. Fingerprints on money. I was there during insurance mans call. Visits to New York. Calls to New York and from. Visits to Annapolis. Calls to and from Annapolis. Overnight depositions. Sharon Lee. Pat Schnure. Girls. Pamela, Susan, Rachel, Shelly, Cathy. Unorthodox life. Cuba-killing. Bank deposit slips. Names. Handwriting. No partial fingerprints on car. Shelly and motel. Rachel and room. Calls from Annapolis and to Annapolis. Sailing course. In Reinerts room constantly. Reinerts books in my bookcase. Car missing. Depositions. Smith. FBI. Reinerts people. Vince. Gun. St. Davids. Lured and killed kids and taped her.
Latent fingerprints are a lot trickier than most people realize. They're rarely indentifiable if a surface is not hard and clean, and are seldom left at all unless there's an abundance of body secretions, such as sweat and oil, on the fingers. Actually, the task force was never able to get a single indentifiable lift of Bill Bradfields fingerprints from Susan Reinerts house.
So it was awfully decent of him to let them know that he'd been in there "constantly," the feds remarked.
Joe VanNort's grin got as lopsided as a Cuban election and he said, "Bradfields even got a big mouth on paper!"
But if the note was another little link in the circumstantial chain, the next document provided them with a foot of casehardened steel complete with lock and keys.
It was typed yellow lined paper and bore no handwriting at all. It was inside an envelope with the typed address of William Bradfield at Upper Merion Senior High School.
It had been written to Bill Bradfield two years earlier at about the time that he had had the dream that he'd met Jay Smith at the shore while going to Fred Wattenmaker's house. "Hie letter began:
In place of VF phones. If contact is necessary, use: 2659633. or 265-9634 or 265-9635.
These three phones are located inside the Sheraton and are available 24 hours. VF phones are not, as park closes after dark.
Before I leave to go to the phones, if I think I heard the signal, I will take my phone off the hook. After an interval a call to my home phone will give a busy signal since its off the hook. This will indicate I heard the signal and I am
on my way.
Big problems re last two weeks of August 1977.
I went to see Fred W. if possible on Saturday, August 27th to kill a couple of birds.
1. McKinley to discuss some confidential problems re coaching.
2. Fred W. to see his new house. I'd promised him this.
3. See more of S. Jersey other than shore as lack of such data was hurting in job seeking.
When ran into third party, near Crackerbox, decide it was O.K. since all could go to lunch together.
Since McK and W not available took off after lunch with third party.
Possible approach could be: Told Mitch I remember I saw him in D.C.
He said he also remembered incident. Indicated that you (Fred W.) should have remembered it as JCS called FW a couple times re McKinley appointment. Even told FW that it was to be JCS recommendation.
B: Fred, I think I sensed that JCS may feel you are afraid of Supt. That's why you have a "bad" memory re Smith in D.C.
Stress silence so other side knows nothing.
The cops called this their "little treasure," a letter from Jay Smith to Bill Bradfield scripting an alibi performance, even as to how he should try to flimflam Fred Wattenmaker into "remembering" what had not happened on August 27, 1977.
The letter was unsigned, but the task force didn't care. On the typed envelope were the fingerprints of Chris Pappas, which was to be expected. And a fingerprint of William Bradfield, which thrilled them. And some beautiful huggable fingerprints of Dr. Jay C. Smith.
Bill Bradfield and Jay Smith were gettimg double billing, even with Joe VanNort. They were an item. They were scripting each others performances. They were Gable and Lombard, Tracy and Hepburn, Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy.
Joe VanNort now said he wanted to see Jay Smith in the electric chair with Bill Bradfield on his lap.
They wanted to put Chris Pappas in a glass bubble. He was more than valuable. He was the most priceless Greek treasure since Schliemann found a mummy he thought was Agamemnon.
Through the weeks of secret interviews, Chris sat and pleaded with them to understand that even if Bill Bradfield had conspired to perjure himself for Jay Smith, and even if he'd swindled Susan Reinert out of twenty-five big ones, he couldn't have murdered anybody.
Chris Pappas told every agent and cop he met that Bill Bradfield had been sincere on the airplane when he drank a toast to saving Susan Reinerts life. He tried earnestly to make the cops understand that any man who could discuss Aquinas and Summti Theologica couldn't possibly commit murder.
They cherished Chris Pappas so much that they humored him about Bill Bradfields absence of malice, even when Chris turned over the practice chains and locks that Bill Bradfield had asked him to keep during the rehearsals. They agreed that perhaps Big Bill wasn't a Bluebeard even when Chris gave them the acid and his mentor's magnum pistol.
They humored him even after Chris told them how Bill Bradfield had coached Shelly on her testimony before the grand jury, describing for them Shelly's anguish over swearing to falsehoods on the Bible.
They showed Chris nods of understanding when he assured them that Bill Bradfield would probably set up trust funds for the kids if they could be found alive.
But the humoring had to stop when he told them one last incredible incident that they would never have believed if they hadn't become so thoroughly familiar with the Bradfield disciples.
Just before June, 1979, graduation at Upper Merion, Bill Bradfield had come to the Pappas house with urgent news.
"I received a call from Doctor Smith tonight," he'd told
Chris. "He said he's going out. I know that means a hit, but I don't know who or where."
"Do you think its Susan Reinert?"
"I don't know, but I don't think so. He gave me a hint."
"What's the hint?"
"He said, 'I'm getting all dressed up for it. But I won't be going inside.'"
"What's it mean?"
"What do you make of it?"
"Getting all dressed up . . . The prom! This is prom night!"
"That's silly," Bill Bradfield said. "Who would he kill at the prom?"
Chris went home feeling silly about the prom idea and went to bed. Thirty minutes later the phone rang. It was Bill Bradfield.
He said, "I've got it all figured out. That cop who searched his house. He's working off-duty at the prom tonight. Doctor Smith wants him dead so he can't testify!"<
br />
Forty-five minutes later, the capeless crusaders were speeding to Upper Merion in Chris's Datsun. Bill Bradfield was relaxed and cool and chatty. Chris Pappas was so energized he could see everything in detail. Even in the darkened car he could see wisps of gray in Bill Bradfield's coppery beard. He saw oil drops on that goddamn homemade silencer that Bill Bradfield held in his hands. Chris Pappas glowed in the dark.
As if Chris wasn't terrified enough Bill Bradfield calmly rolled down the window and said, "If we're going to kill a human being, we'd better test our weapon."
He fired three shots into the night sky over King of Prussia.
Chris Pappas literally felt his pulse jerking in his neck. It was like some maniac version of a Gidget movie: Prom Night, starring Jay C. Smith with a supporting cast of disappeareds and remotes.
They stayed till the last dance but, as usual, Jay Smith danced alone whenever he danced.
Bill Bradfield said, "He must be killing somebody else. Let's go home."
The cops could only sit dumbstruck when Chris told this tale.
One of the troopers couldn't help himself. He looked at Chris like he was something that had materialized at a seance, and said, "Chris, I gotta understand how you felt. When
Bradfield had you shiunying up that rope, did you maybe think if you let go you'd fall and vanish forever in a lake of drizzly bullshit?"
Chris later said that he wished the police could've tried harder to understand him.
Chris Pappas received two memorable phone calls after Bill Bradfield obviously sensed that Chris was talking to the task force. The first call was angry and contained an implied threat.
Bill Bradfield not only accused his young pal of turning Sue Myers against him, but of having an affair with poor Sue.
He said, "Read the last chapter of the Odyssey, Chris! Read it!"
During the long rambling conversation, he repeated it five times.
Finally, Chris said, "You mean the next to last chapter. You're talking about when Odysseus comes home and reclaims his woman and his betrayers are killed."
"Don't get snotty!" Bill Bradfield wailed. "Read the last act of Macbeth!"
Another call came even later at night. Bill Bradfield was crumbling fast. He wasn't threatening anybody. He was certain now that Chris was talking to the task force and said so.
Echoes in the Darkness (1987) Page 27