Chris described Bill Bradfield as speaking in a "quaking grandmother's voice." It sounded like the grandmother was dying. Chris had to press the phone to his ear to make out the feeble little sounds.
"Is ... is that you, Chris? Is ... is that my friend? I ... I don't understand why you're doing this to me, Chris! Why does my friend turn against me? They'll trick you, Chris! They'll get to you!"
"Somebody's already gotten to me, Bill," Chris Pappas said. "That somebody's you."
It was the last time in his life that Chris Pappas ever spoke to his friend William Bradfield.
Chapter 21
Confucius
By February, they were able to secure a search warrant to seize all relevant material described by Chris Pappas as being in the former attic of Bill Bradfield who was now on sabbatical and living with his mother, keeping a very low profile out in the country.
Sue Myers had been alone for nearly a year and still hadn't been allowed to return to her Upper Merion classroom. She had no money in the bank and owed legal fees to her attorney and got lots of nutty phone calls from Bill Bradfield accusing her of betraying him. She was taking Librium to keep herself together. It was probably a perfect time for search warrants. She needed a pal.
In fact, when the searchers arrived she was chattier than they'd ever seen her. She and Jack Holtz started talking about his hobby of cooking and Sue thought he was sort of an attractive guy when you got to know him.
Sue helped them search, and along the way thought she might as well tell them a few things she'd never told them. She talked about seeing the stack of $100 bills in the file drawer, and how the date coincided pretty well with Susan Reinerts bogus investment of $25,000. And as long as she was on the subject she added that just before Susan Reinerts murder she'd seen a will with Bill Bradfield named as beneficiary.
And Sue Myers said, "Wait'll you see these letters. Are they ever sickening!"
The boys got handed some Shelly letters wherein the teenager told him that he'd just have to learn to dance before they got married. And then Sue helped them locate some Rachel letters written in that tiny, precise script. For good measure, Sue threw in some Susan Reinert letters that Bill Bradfield had squirreled away.
Sue told them that she wished she'd saved his jogging diary because in it he once wrote that he'd like to kill Susan Reinert, but added that at the time she had thought it was overstatement.
Between exchanging recipes with Jack Holtz and getting it all off her chest, she was re jly starting to like these guys. Sue told them how Bill Bradfield sometimes made rough drafts of important letters, and voil&! they found a lulu of a rough draft. The message was written in cipher and became known to task force members as the "my danger conspiracy" letter.
It was a most pleasant day for all concerned. They had lots of little snippets and treasures to link Bill Bradfield and all his friends in a conspiracy of deceit and perjury. A case against him for stealing Susan Reinerts investment was starting to look awfully good.
So Sue Myers had climbed aboard the government bus, along with Vince Valaitis and Chris Pappas. She had a pretty swell time talking chicken cordon bleu with Jack Holtz. And she grew certain that Joe VanNort's partner, who was seven years younger than she, was a downright flirt.
She used to get mad when Joe VanNort referred to "Bradfield." She'd always say, "It's Mister Bradfield." But now she was calling them all by their first names.
Everyone was in such a great mood that Joe VanNort's lopsided grin almost straightened itself out.
The "my danger conspiracy" letter was sent to the FBI for a cryptanalys* to examine and explain in the event they ever got to court. A code generally deals with words or phrases, and a cipher works from individual letters with number substitutes. What the cops had was a mess of numbers separated by commas, with several letters interspersed.
They knew from Chris Pappas that the key to the cipher was to be found in the Confucius translation by Ezra Pound, and Sue obligingly provided that tome. On there were Bill Bradfields handwritten numbers beside the lines.
The cops figured this could wow a jury. They'd get the FBI cryptanalyst to do a presentation complete with a quickie course 011 ciphers, and lots of big blowup charts, and maybe some slides.
It was only to wow a jury, because Bill Bradfield had obligingly written the correct letters in the English language right above each cipher on his rough draft. So every searcher could just sit right down and read the deciphered message for himself. It said:
"Does the FBI know V has it. Has V removed ball and destroyed or better claim whole thing stolen. Then get rid of it. Did I sell it to you. FBI must not get it. Does FBI know you mailed it."
When the cops got that far they said, wait a minute, the only V in the case was Vince Valaitis. But Vince was riding the bus named Salvation and was tickled to death to be aboard.
Then they compared it to the scenario that Bill Bradfield had penned for Chris Pappas. It was in the same barely coherent style. He'd write in the third person and then switch to the second person or even the first. The V referred to a "her" so they decided that the V was a code within a code, and stood for Rachel. Then it worked as jottings to himself and to her on a rough draft of a message to her.
The garbled message continued:
"Can you think up substitution or substitute saying wait and tell V or have her say it's stolen. Immunity improbable. My danger conspiracy."
On the back of the message he'd scribbled "Smith," then scratched it out and written "P of D."
The police and the FBI did not have the authority to tap Bill Bradfield's phones or read his mail. If the message was meant for Rachel, Bill Bradfield could have mailed her a postcard and they'd never have known. He could've hired a skywriter to smoke his message over the Harvard campus and they probably wouldn't have heard of it. Or he could've picked up a telephone some evening and called .her and told her his fears and said, "Would you please switch typing balls."
He could've done that very easily. But if he had, he wouldn't have been Bill Bradfield. And perhaps the disciples wouldn't have remained so steadfast without all the melodrama. Ezra Pound had also loved ideograms.
Matt Mullin got the duty of securing a handwriting exemplar from Bill Bradfield, and during the process, he was asked to identify things they'd found written by him in the Reinert residence.
Among these was Karen's autograph book with Mickey and Minnie Mouse on the cover. Bill Bradfield had written on one of the first pages. His entry was dated October 25, 1977.
It said: "To Karen, Lorelei-To-Be." Then there was a goodluck message written in Greek, followed by "From her friend, B. Bradfield."
Part of the exemplar procedure required him to write the names of everyone connected with the case for further comparison.
When he wrote Karens name he said to Matt Mullin, "Karen was a beautiful, gifted child."
The theory of Susan Reinert being lured away from her home was based on information from her friend at Parents Without Partners. The friend said that Susan had claimed she was going to meet an attorney on Saturday, June 23rd, to "sort out" various legal matters with Bill Bradfield. The cops believed that the night she disappeared, she'd gotten a call from Bill Bradfield saying that they had to meet the attorney that night, and to bring along her will and investment certificate.
This would explain why she'd taken Michael from the cub scout meeting and made him change his baseball shirt, and why she had changed the blouse Ken Reinert had seen on her when she picked up Michael. They were dressing up to meet a lawyer, the cops believed.
If she hadn't made a photocopy of that certificate, the police would never have known it existed. As to the will, there was the copy retained by her attorney, but it seemed possible that someone else had demanded to see it, and that's why it was gone.
They turned Bill Bradfields alibi for June 22nd into a state trooper drive-a-thon. Various tests were conducted at different hours of the night and day. During the lightest traf
fic time it took more than one and a half hours to drive from Shelly s pal's house to Susan Reinerts house where Bill Bradfield had allegedly "lost" Jay Smith in the hailstorm, to his ex-wifes home in Chester County where he supposedly hung around alone for an hour or two, either inside or outside, depending on his version of the story.
When the FBI contacted Rachel at Harvard she said that she'd bought the typewriter from Bill Bradfield. She gave them a typed exemplar from the machine and this time did it so willingly that they figured she'd switched typing balls.
They weren't able to match the exemplar with the photocopy of Susan Reinerts investment. The FBI lab could only say that they'd both been typed by an IBM machine with a Gothic typeface.
Sue Myers said she was just pleased as punch to hear that he'd "sold" her typewriter to the ice maiden. She wanted to have the lovebirds thrown in jail for theft, but Joe VanNort had to tell her what he'd soon be telling the FBI: "We ain't after typewriter thieves. We're after murderers."
The FBI investigates few criminal violations and does most of its work with the blessing of U.S. attorneys and magistrates. Police investigate a wide variety of criminal activities, involving huge numbers of lawbreakers. They usually don't have the time and opportunity to obtain warrants, and often have to improvise and move along to the next case. The differences in style between the FBI and the state cops was never more evident than when the discussions began as to how they should proceed in the arrest of William Bradfield.
Joe VanNort announced that he was going to arrest Shelly along with Bill Bradfield and charge them both with theft by deception.
"You can't arrest that young girl," Special Agent Matt Mullin said.
"Watch me," he was told.
Joe VanNort's blue-gray eyes were getting squinty at that point and not from his cigarette smoke. There was a confrontation that evening in Belmont Barracks. The old cop and the young agent were getting testy.
"You don't have enough to charge her with," the agent said.
"The hell I don't. She stashed away money for him. She either wiped fingerprints off the money or watched him do it. She lied to us and she lied to the grand jury. She's a conspirator in my book."
"I'd like to talk to her one more time before you arrest her," Matt Mullin said.
"You can talk to her after I put her in jail," Joe VanNort said. "That's it. Period."
But Matt Mullin figured, that's it, semicolon. He said wryly, "Rachel has Sue Myers's typewriter. Why isn't she part of the conspiracy?"
Then Joe VanNort erupted: "Goddamnit, boy, I ain't after no typewriter thief and I ain't after no perjurers! I ain't gonna arrest Rachel or Pappas or Valaitis or Myers because I'm gonna need them all one a these days to testify for me when I get Bradfield's ass for murder!"
"It's a malicious arrest," Matt Mullin said. "You're arresting Shelly because she won't cooperate. The U.S. attorney would tell you it's violating her civil rights and violating a federal law."
"I don't need no U. S. attorney to tell me when to take a crap or when to book a suspect," Joe VanNort said.
"Let's agree to talk about it tomorrow," Matt Mullin suggested, and his always flushed face looked like somebody had double-dipped him in Day-Clo.
The next day, Matt Mullin came to the police barracks with a U.S. attorney who also tried to persuade Joe VanNort not to arrest Shelly.
When the U.S. attorney was all finished, Joe VanNort sucked a fresh cigarette down to a nub and said, "We ain't botherin' you with this. It's a state law, not a federal law. I'm goin' to the district attorney and I'm gonna file charges. Period. And when we make the arrest, the FBI don't have to be there if it bothers 'em."
Since the conspiracy to commit theft by deception involved three counties they had to have a lot of meetings with different district attorneys, and finally Deputy D.A. Ed Weitz from Delaware County got the job of prosecuting the case.
The arrest of William Bradfield took place in May, 1981, almost two years after the murder of Susan Reinert, and the FBI did not take part.
The cops preferred to arrest Bill Bradfield when he was out jogging. He was said to be doing three miles at that time, trying to control his weight and soaring blood pressure.
Joe VanNort, Jack Holtz and Lou DeSantis had a woman trooper call his mother's home to see if he was at home. The trooper was told he was asleep, and the message was relayed to the waiting cops who drove up the lane to the ancient stone farmhouse where the Bradfields lived. They were met at the door by an old woman: frail, respectable, upper middle class, frightened.
The cops stated their business and Mrs. Bradfield asked them to wait a moment. She returned to the door looking even more frightened and asked to see their identification again. After that, she disappeared and when she returned she let them inside.
Jack Holtz sneered, which is no mean trick with a gumload of snuff, and whispered, "Hiding behind his mothers apron strings, as usual."
Bill Bradfield got dressed quickly and greeted them in the living room with one question: "Are you arresting me for murder?"
"Naw," Joe VanNort said, showing his lopsided grin. "Just for theft by deception and theft by fraudulent conversion."
They could literally see the color return to his face. He was relieved.
They drove to the district magistrates office and he was garrulous. As usual he talked about everything but what they wanted to discuss. He told them how his father used to take him hunting around Chester County and that it was lovely and peaceful living out in the country.
And by the way, he said, he'd like to give them some "concrete evidence" about Susan Reinerts murder, but he couldn't do it because of his lawyer.
The only unpleasant moment came at the magistrate's office when he refused to sign a form stating that the cops had advised him of his constitutional rights. Then he said that he wanted a cash bail-out on the spot.
Jack Holtz glared and said, "Screw him. Let's take him to jail."
But Joe VanNort was in a jovial mood. They called John Curran's office and a lawyer said he'd come, and Bill Bradfield's mother said she'd arrange for the bail money. Joe VanNort was enjoying himself.
In fact, he took Bill Bradfield to a deli while they were waiting for the $25,000 bail to be posted, and bought his prisoner a sandwich.
When they'd finished eating and returned to the magistrate's office, Bill Bradfield said to the lawyer, "I want it on the record that these police officers are gentlemen, and have treated me so kindly."
Jack Holtz later said it was all he could do to keep from grabbing Bill Bradfield by the throat.
Bill Bradfield asked Joe VanNort, "Are you arresting any of my friends?"
"Yeah, Bill," the old cop said, with a Marlboro between his teeth. "Afraid we gotta bust poor little Shelly."
Bill Bradfield's brooding blue eyes turned exceptionally misty, and he said, "I wish you'd let me call her, first. She's such a fragile child."
"I don't see nothin' wrong with that, Bill," Joe VanNort said.
"I always kinda liked kids myself."
# * *
There were a couple of hearings prior to the August trial, hearings in which John Curran challenged the various warrants and the introduction of certain evidence. The testimony in support of the warrants was given mostly by Sergeant Joe VanNort and it was striking to hear.
Joe VanNort was more rambling and disjointed than Ronald Reagan without a script. Joe VanNort had been a cop for nearly thirty-one years and he'd given a whole lot of testimony, and though he wasn't an articulate man he knew how to testify. But in those hearings he sounded like an untrained civilian.
In feet, on the morning they went to the courthouse in Media, Pennsylvania, for the trial of Bill Bradfield, Jack Holtz was driving and Joe was sitting next to him and being very quiet.
When they drove into the lot, Joe looked at Jack Holtz and his blue-gray eyes were as cloudy as the Poconos in autumn. He asked, "Where are we?"
Jack Holtz thought he must've dozed off, but Joe
was wide awake.
"What're we doin' here?" Joe VanNort asked.
Jack Holtz laughed and said, "This is the Bill Bradfield trial. You better wake up."
When they got out of the car and walked inside, Jack kept glancing over at Joe. He didn't look well.
The state police and the district attorney had worked out a deal with Shelly's lawyer. She flew in from California and surrendered herself at the district magistrate's office and the preliminary hearing for the felony charges took place right there. It was very convenient for Shelly.
Both defendants were held to answer for the criminal charges against them and bound over for trial. Shelly was taken by Jack Holtz and Joe VanNort to a women's jail for mug shots and fingerprints, and was released to her parents who posted $10,000 bail.
It wasn't long before Joe VanNort got a telephone call from the district attorney. Shelly had agreed to become a witness against Bill Bradfield if the commonwealth would drop charges against her.
"Of course we will," Joe VanNort said expansively. "Shelly belongs to us now. Why she's almost like a daughter to me already."
He said it so loud the FBI director in Washington could've heard. Joe VanNort didn't believe In making life easy on the feds.
The three-day trial in Media was held before Judge Robert A. Wright, with John Paul Curran and his law partner Charles Fitzpatrick for William Bradfield, and Edward J. Weiss appearing for the commonwealth. The small courtroom was jammed with press and gallery.
Both sides were warned that any undue mention of a murder investigation could result in an immediate mistrial, and the whole show would have to be restaged. Bill Bradfield was being charged with theft by deception and theft by failure to make required disposition of funds received. Shelly was granted immunity.
John Curran made a judgement call and decided that Bill Bradfield would not take the stand in his own defense. He'd said too many things in Orphans Court that Ed Weiss could use as a bludgeon. Bill Bradfield later said that he very reluctantly agreed to heed his lawyers advice.
Echoes in the Darkness (1987) Page 28