Echoes in the Darkness (1987)

by Wambaugh, Joseph

  "I really don't remember at this time."

  "You've had how many years of schooling?"

  "At that time?"

  "Today."

  Rachel paused, unclasped her hands, and glanced at the watery April sunbeams streaming through the skylight. Anybody else would probably have said, I have such and such degrees, but she answered the question precisely as it had been asked. The computer clicked a few times and then flashed the answer.

  "Nineteen and a half," she said.

  "And it was only after you got immunity that you gave any statements whatsoever, isn't that right?"

  "I believe that's correct. Yes."

  "When Bill Bradfield made a claim on the insurance policies and the estate of Susan Reinert, your relationship was a romantic one, correct?"

  "Yes, I suppose so."

  "And it was a romantic one on the weekend in question, right?"

  "That's correct."

  "And it's a romantic one today?"

  "That's correct."

  "Is it your testimony that there were no letters in your possession from Bill Bradfield while you were in Boston? In code?"

  "Yes, there were no letters in code."

  "Was there anything in code in your possession from William Bradfield while you were in Boston at Harvard?"

  "No."

  "What is cryptology?"

  "Cryptology? That's the study of codes."

  "Did you study codes?"

  "No, I haven't studied codes."

  "Was there a letter from Bradfield to you congratulating you for becoming an expert in cryptology?"

  "No."

  "Was there a letter while you were in Boston, in code, instructing you to destroy, burn and scatter the ashes of the typewriter ball that was in your custody and control?"

  "No."

  "Do you understand enough about immunity that if you testily untruthfully under oath that you can be charged with perjury?"

  "Yes, I understand that."

  "When you were living in New Mexico did William Sidney Bradfield tell you that the newspapers in Philadelphia would draw a correlation between the murder of Reinert and Jay C. Smith?"

  "I don't believe so."

  Costopoulos got up and took a report to the witness box for Rachel to read. He stayed there, clearly intending to intimidate her. Cuida did not request that he move away from this witness.

  When she'd finished reading the report, she said calmly, "Well, it doesn't refresh my memory."

  "My question is, did you ever tell Trooper Holtz that Bradfield told you that the newspapers would draw a correlation between the murder of Reinert and Jay C. Smith?"

  "I don't remember."

  And from this moment, witness and lawyer had a little power struggle that Cuida did not interrupt, and during which Rachel didn't even blink.

  "And of course if Bradfield told you that, you wouldn't remember asking him what he meant, would you?"

  "I don't remember," she said.

  "You don't remember where you were Friday night, June twenty-second, 1979?"

  "That's correct."

  "Or Saturday, June twenty-third, 1979? You don't remember?"

  "Other than in Philadelphia, no."

  "And of course you don't remember anything other than being in Philadelphia on Sunday, June twenty-fourth, 1979, do you?"

  "That's correct."

  "And you don't remember your whereabouts or your activities that Monday, June twenty-fifth, 1979?"

  "Aside from being in Philadelphia, no."

  "You don't remember whether you left the residence of

  Bradfield and Pappas when the authorities came down to Santa Fe in the early summer of 1979, do you?" "No, I don't."

  "You don't remember any coding system, and in feet you deny any coding system between you and Bradfield, don't you?"

  "That's correct."

  "And you don't remember that in Thanksgiving of 1978, Bradfield called Reinert's mother's house from where the two of you were staying, do you?"

  "I don't remember. That's correct." "Knowing Bradfield romantically for the years that you've known him, is there anything you can remember that would help the prosecution in their effort to learn anything about the murder of Susan Reinert and the disappearance of her two children?"

  "I don't have anything to add."

  "I have no further questions," Bill Costopoulos said, and sat down.

  Bill Costopoulos hadn't intimidated Rachel. The hound of the Baskervilles couldn't have intimidated Rachel.

  When that study in black and white and gray strode across the courtroom, a single word came to mind: resolute. She had the self-righteous cast of a true believer. But a true believer risks sounding less like Joan of Arc and more like Lucrezia Borgia.

  Along with the "my danger conspiracy" letter to V in cipher was the following deciphered message on the reverse side, also explained to the jury by an FBI cryptanalyst.

  Miss you Hon. Love you terribly. Love you so much. Hurt for you. Hope I can see you soon, but lawyer says going up there now could be grounds for unlawful flight to avoid prosecution. Lawyers warn there will be FBI plant near you soon. Car bugged. Chris has been subpoenaed for grand jury. He will say nothing much. He must maintain this all the way up through possible (probable) trial. Hand on Bible et cetera or be in perjury five to ten years.

  If you're in same position, you know practically nothing about case and nothing at all about Smith P of D. You must maintain this all the way up through trial hand on Bible forever. Did we mention Smith to Pappas? Try to remember. We can't be inconsistent about what we told them. Perhaps you could write them and warn them. Will be visited by FBI. If they haven't yet. Ask them exactly what they remember about what we said. Love you. Remember that we made it. Love you. Wish I were lying next to you and holding you.

  Destroy this and ashes. Congratulations you're on way to becoming expert cryptologist. Can you take some more rules? Hope so. Lawyers assure us we are dealing with the best FBI has. So we better be fairly sophisticated, okay?

  When coding, use last number then first and so forth back and forth. Destroy messages after receiving them. Destroy them without being observed. Don't let anyone know you're receiving or destroying code. Repeat. Destroy completely. If ashes are left, destroy them also. Grind them underfoot or something.

  It is perhaps noteworthy that neither Bill Bradfield's ex-wife Muriel nor Sue Myers, nor Shelly nor Rachel, had married in all the years since they'd known him. Things like romantic fantastic irrelevant letters resembling games of Scrabble might have had something to do with it. After you've been part of his madcap adventures it might be hard to settle down to domestic routine. Besides, it was probably great to have a mission in life.

  If Bill Costopoulos didn't succeed with intimidation, he did succeed in his foremost aim. He'd demonstrated to the jury that Rachel, unlike Vince Valaitis, could be considered as a crime partner of William Bradfield. In fact, her performance was assessed during the jury deliberation. It was learned that one juror asked if they had the power to convict her of anything.

  Chapter 27

  Ghosts

  If the letter within a letter was the most legally damaging piece of physical evidence in the Jay Smith trial, the tiny green pin from the Philadelphia Museum of Art carried the emotional load.

  The trial had been going on for three weeks and both sides had just about shot their bolts. Bill Costopoulos had been working eighteen hours a day and looked haggard. Rick Guida was so overloaded with nicotine he could have jump-started a DC-10.

  Hie prosecutor said that he had no idea what to expect when he subpoenaed former classmates of Karen Reinert from Chestnutwold Elementary School who'd made that museum field trip in the sixth grade. He was hoping they wouldn't have green hair with pins through their noses.

  The first of them wore a blue blazer and a necktie and testified that back in the sixth grade they'd gone to the museum, all right. He remembered the colonial furniture. He planned to enter
Temple University in the fall.

  The second, similarly dressed, was a senior at Haverford High School and would be attending the Virginia Military Institute. He testified to getting the green pin with the white P.

  The third was also a student at Haverford who would be transferring to William and Mary, and he remembered the pin and the trip.

  The next was going to the University of Cincinnati, and yes, he remembered the pin and the trip.

  Another had kept his pin and turned it over to the police for comparison.

  Each young witness was handsome and wholesome and well dressed and polite. Finally, one was called who wasn't wearing a coat and tie. He was wearing jeans, but he was the jock of the crowd, another good-looking kid with college plans. He'd played in Michaels last cub scout game.

  Cuida asked him about the field trip and he testified that Karen Reinert had definitely been on the field trip at the museum that day in 1979.

  When the prosecutor asked him how he could be sure, the young man said, "She was very cute. Lots of people at school had a crush on her. I was one of them."

  The jurors smiled. The courtroom got very quiet. A couple of people took out handkerchiefs.

  Costopoulos couldn't cross-examine. He had to wait until Jack Holtz again testified, in order to imply that all of the Bradfield people had been on the loose at that time and someone could have planted that pin in Jay Smiths car when it was parked at his brother's house in Delaware.

  The defense knew what was coming next. The queue of bright wholesome lads had kept the courtroom utterly silent.

  The look on the face of the defense lawyer said, Why can't this one look like Saturday night at Studio 54?

  She looked like a Mormon missionary. The young woman entered timidly and after the judge reassured her with a kindly smile, she sat down and put her hands in her lap and waited.

  "State your name for the record," Guida said.

  "Elizabeth Ann Brook."

  "And where do you work?"

  "I work at the Chubb insurance company."

  "How old are you?"

  "Twenty-three."

  "What is your grandmother's name?"

  "Mary Gove."

  ]]And where did your grandmother live in 1979?"

  "She lived on Woodcrest Drive."

  "And who was her next-door neighbor?"

  "Susan Reinert."

  "Who did Susan Reinert live there with?"

  "Her two children, Karen and Michael."

  "Now, Beth Ann, during 1978 and 1979, did you stay at your grandmother's house at all?"

  "Yes, I did. Quite frequently."

  "Just tell us how frequently."

  "Sometimes once a week. Sometimes once every two weeks. My grandfather had just passed away and we were trying to keep someone with her as much as possible." "Did you know Karen and Michael Reinert?"

  "Yes, I did. Very well."

  "Did you do anything for them while you were staying with your grandmother?"

  "Yes, I was their baby-sitter."

  "Now, I'm going to take you back to Friday night, June twenty-second, 1979. Were you at your grandmothers house?"

  "Yes, I was."

  "And do you recall a hailstorm that evening?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And what happened after the hailstorm was over? What did you do?"

  "My grandmother and I went out to the porch. Karen and Michael and Susan were coming out of their house. Michael went down and he was picking up the hailstones. And he brought them to us and he said, 'Oh, gosh! Look how big they are!'"

  "Did Karen have a pin that she wore?"

  "Yes."

  "What kind of pin did she wear?"

  "Well, it was a clip-on pin with the back bent over and clipped on to whatever you were wearing."

  "What color was the pin?"

  "Green."

  "What did the pin have on it?"

  "It had a white P on it."

  "How often would you say she wore that pin?"

  "Practically every time I saw her she had it on."

  "Now, Beth Ann, how was Karen Reinert dressed that night while you were out collecting hailstones?"

  "She had on a white shirt with a scoop neck, a pair of shorts and sneakers."

  "Did she have anything on that shirt that you remember?"

  "She had on the pin."

  "The green pin with the white P?"

  "The green pin with the white P."

  Guida got up from the counsel table and approached the witness. He took a packet from the evidence box and said, "I'm going to show you what has been marked as commonwealth's exhibit number one hundred ten. Does that look familiar to you?"

  "Yes, it does."

  "And what is it similar to?" "That's the pin Karen had on."

  "Beth Ann, did you ever see Karen or Michael Reinert again after that night at nine o'clock?"

  "No, sir."

  "Cross-examine."

  It was a subdued Bill Costopoulos at that point. A grueling trial was winding down to those bright and handsome reminders of Karen and Michael Reinert. He slouched in his chair. He didn't get up to approach the witness.

  "Beth Ann," he began, "do you recall being interviewed by two federal agents in August of 1979?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Have you had an opportunity to look over their report before you testified today?"

  "No, sir."

  Costopoulos was taking his last shot. He withdrew the FBI report from the file and approached the young woman, pointing to a paragraph in the report.

  "Let me show you your report at that time to refresh your memory as to what you recalled Karen having on."

  She read the report, nodded and said, "The peasant shirt would have been the scoop neck."

  "I can't hear you," said Judge Lipsitt.

  The witness said, "The peasant shirt in the description I gave that year. I said that she had on a yellow peasant top."

  "A yellow peasant top?" said the judge.

  "A yellow peasant top is what I described. The scoop neck would be made out of cotton almost like T-shirts are made of. A peasant's shirt is made out of a gauze. But it does have a scooped neck."

  Costopoulos said, "Well, you admit there's no mention in here about any pin?"

  "No, sir."

  "When was the first time you were asked to recall if you saw a pin?"

  "About four weeks ago."

  "About four weeks ago?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Who asked you?"

  "Mister Holtz."

  "Did he show you the pin?"

  "No, sir. As a matter of fact, when he called he didn't say anything about thepin. He just asked me to think about what she had on again."

  "Okay," Bill Costopoulos said. "I have no further questions."

  It was only getting worse for Costopoulos. He could've pointed out that she couldn't know if it was that particular pin, but he wisely let her go.

  A couple of jurors were dabbing at tears, and a couple of others were staring at Jay Smith. He was as impassive as if he were attending a meeting of the Parent-Teachers Association.

  Essentially, the commonwealths case was over, and Guida had demonstrated that he too had a sense of theater. The jurors kept glancing at the spectators, toward the classmates of Karen Reinert. The jurors kept looking for should-have-beens. Looking for ghosts.

  On the 29th of April, William Costopoulos made his closing argument to the jury.

  He said, "May it please the court, Mister Guida, Mister Smith. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, very soon you will retire to deliberate the fate of Jay Smith, and in your hands lies the power of rendering the only appropriate verdict in this case based on the evidence. Which is not guilty. In your hands lies the power of life and death. It is the gravest responsibility our country imposes on its citizenry.

  "During the course of the trial, you've been patient, and you've seen a lot of interaction between the attorneys, and often intentionally or unintentionally we inte
iject our egos into these proceedings. No matter what your verdict is our egos will heal, but your verdict is forever.

  "Judge Lipsitt will explain to you that a reasonable doubt means the kind of doubt that you would only entertain in acting in a matter of importance to yourself. Beyond a reasonable doubt means that we don't convict in this country on suspicion, on conjecture, on theory. We don't convict in this country on probabilities.

  "Even if you would decide that Jay Smith was probably responsible in some way, or directly, the law says not guilty. Because in this country we would rather acquit nine guilty persons than convict one innocent man for something he didn't do. Let alone ask that he be put to death."

  Bill Costopoulos described to the jury how the pieces of the prosecution's puzzle didn't fit, and how they'd tried to force them to make them fit.

  He began at the beginning when a prosecution witness had testified that Susan Reinert had granules of sand between her toes, and that Susan Reinert had written "Cape May" on a note in her car.

  He proceeded to Mary Gove, the next-door neighbor of Susan Reinert, who had belatedly testified that she saw Susan Reinert wearing blue slacks the night she disappeared, to account for the two blue fibers stuck to her body.

  As to her granddaughter belatedly testifying to the pin, he said that it must run in the fiunily. He implied that the prosecution was "responsible" for that belated testimony.

  He claimed that the defense hair and fiber experts had demolished the entire hair and fiber evidence of the prosecution, reiterating that his witness said the brown hair could belong to any brunette in the world, and the red fibers could have come from any red rug.

  He dealt as quickly as possible with Jay Smiths letter to his dying wife about getting rid of the downstairs carpet, saying that Jay Smith had been trying to fulfill an obligation to his realtor.

  He turned his attention to William Bradfield and pointed out that he was a hundred different kinds of liar, and had seven hundred and thirty thousand good reasons to kill Susan Reinert.

  As to his client, he said, "Motive? What motive did Jay Smith have to kill the woman and hurt her children? According to the commonwealths theory, Bradfield committed peijury for him. Well, that's Bradfields problem, not Jay Smiths. Jay Smith didn't even testify at the St. Davids trial. Motive. What motive? Are the two links going to hold together that Bradfield did in fact commit peijury, and in payment Jay Smith savagely and brutally assassinates a woman and two children on the weekend he's suppose to report for sentencing?