by Ray Flynt
Josh appeared startled. “How did you know she was here?”
“Hey, I’m a detective. You testified under oath what a genius I am.”
Josh shook his head in disbelief. “Linda brought in a pair of her husband’s pants. She found ‘em in the back of their closet with a bloodstained handkerchief in the rear pocket. Linda said she found it yesterday morning, but with her kid and all, this was the first she could get away. She’s afraid Bob knows she’s wise to him. I sent officers to pick up Bob Kepner on suspicion of murder in the Westin case.”
“Could I take a look at the evidence?” Brad asked.
Josh hesitated. “I guess it wouldn’t do any harm for you to take a look—as long as I’m with you.” Josh pointed to the office. “In here.”
Brad and Sharon followed Josh. Once inside, Brad pointed at an empty desk, asking, “How about over here? Do you have any rolls of brown wrapping paper?”
“Oh sure we keep two or three of those around here all the time,” the detective said.
“Josh, don’t be a wise ass. How about cardboard, or large sheets of paper?”
A uniformed officer nearby said, “I can find you a sheet of plastic.”
Brad shook his head. “Not plastic when we’re working with organic materials.”
The officer turned to Josh. “How about those posters from the sheriff’s last campaign. Would that work?”
“Posters. That’s great,” Brad said. “We’ll need a couple of them.”
The deputy returned moments later and laid several campaign posters face up on the desk.
Brad froze and aimed his finger at the image. “That’s the son of a bitch who tried to run me off the road last week! I’ll never forget that face.”
Josh ignored Brad’s comment and started flipping the posters face down. “I see enough of the sheriff. I’m tired of staring at his mug.”
“Hold on,” Brad grabbed Josh’s arm. “What do you know about last week? That night you stopped me out on highway 462? Was that a setup?”
Josh was silent, and wouldn’t make eye contact with Brad.
Using his most forceful baritone Brad said, “I want answers. Now!”
Josh shrugged. “I tried to warn you before; the sheriff’s a friend of Denton’s. I’m guessing Denton asked him to set you up. I was driving on Route 465 that night when the sheriff radioed to tell me he was heading home and had spotted a car speeding on 170 headed in my direction. He asked me to be on the lookout. I had no idea it was you until I stopped your car.”
Brad nodded. “Now that that’s cleared up, where’s the bag Linda Kepner brought?”
Josh retrieved the paper bag holding Bob Kepner’s pants and with Brad and Sharon watching from the other side of the desk Josh opened the bag and placed the trousers on top of the cardboard.
Brad noted that a chain of evidence sticker had been stuck on the bag.
Josh cautioned that Brad could look but not touch, and placed a magnifying glass on the table.
Brad carefully examined the front of the pants with the magnifier as he looked for evidence of blood but found none. He realized that a microscope might be required to detect miniscule traces of blood.
Josh flipped the trousers over and used a pair of tweezers to pull the handkerchief from the left rear pocket. Brad recognized dark brown staining consistent with dried blood as well as a few darker stains. As Josh held the handkerchief in the air, Brad began to sniff at it.
“Why are you doing that?” Sharon asked.
“These darker particles,” Brad pointed to an area of the handkerchief that contrasted with the dried blood, “could be powder residue. I can smell it.” Glancing at Josh he said, “What do you think?”
Josh leaned in for a whiff, and nodded, “Gunpowder. I suspect this handkerchief was used to clean the muzzle of the shotgun.”
Brad nodded. “It would be consistent with what we saw at the scene.”
Josh spread the handkerchief out on the cardboard, and Brad once again examined the object using the magnifier.
Spotting a tissue fragment, Brad said, “This would confirm what we thought about the close range of the shooting, with blood and tissue blow back.”
Sharon tapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t you think you should get back to the hearing?”
Brad never took his eyes off his work, saying, “I need a few more minutes.”
As he turned his attention to the rear pocket of the lightweight khaki pants which had held the handkerchief, Brad asked Josh, “Would you mind if I turned the pocket inside out?”
“Ah, better let me.” The detective reached inside the pants and pushed the left rear pocket inside out, and Brad once more took the magnifying glass in hand.
Brad found it odd not to see any blood transfer from the handkerchief on the inside of the pocket. He then pointed at the exterior of the pocket. “Strange,” he said, “the fiber wear is consistent with the presence of a wallet.”
“I see what you mean,” Josh replied.
“When you have Bob Kepner into custody,” Brad said, “see if you can find out who might have seen him wearing these trousers this past Monday night, and take notice of what pocket he keeps his wallet in.”
Ben Slatpin dashed breathlessly into the Sheriff’s office workstation. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. You weren’t there when the recess concluded. The judge is ready to hold you in contempt.”
Sharon flashed him an I-told-you-so expression.
“I’m sorry Ben,” Brad said, though he still felt he’d correctly prioritized his time in the last few minutes. “I’ll come down and apologize.”
“You don’t have to,” Ben said, still catching his breath. “I requested an additional recess, and the judge took an early lunch. Court will resume at one-thirty. But if you aren’t there, plan on spending the night in the county jail.”
“Ben, we need to talk.” Brad looked at his watch. “It’s almost eleven-thirty. We have two hours, and I need a few more minutes to examine these trousers. There are a few things you need to know.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
When the hearing resumed promptly at one-thirty, Ben Slatpin rose and requested a conference at the bench.
Brad strained to hear as the lawyers stood in whispered conversation in front of the judge’s bench. He heard Cooley bark, “Objection,” before the judge signaled him to keep his voice down.
Moments later Judge Lindsey leaned back in the leather chair and lifted her eyeglasses to the top of her head.
Brad thought he heard the judge say, “Highly irregular.”
The mostly inaudible conference continued for a few minutes, and on several occasions Brad saw Cooley punching the air with his fingers to make his points. After the attorneys returned to their seats, Ben Slatpin glanced at Brad with a grin.
Judge Lindsey spoke, directing the court reporter to include it as part of the official record of the hearing. “At the request of Mr. Slatpin, counsel for defendant L. Bradford Frame, this hearing will stand in recess. The following parties are requested to appear in my chambers, Denton Carothers Jr., Amanda Carothers, Sarah Carothers, Brad Frame and his associate…” The judge paused and studied a piece of paper in front of her. “Sharon Porter, who I understand is in attendance at this hearing, as well as legal counsel for all the parties. Mr. Slatpin asserts that such a conference will obviate the need for a further hearing in this matter.” Brad thought he heard the judge sigh. “However, the court will reserve its judgment until the completion of the conference.”
Brad and Sharon followed Ben Slatpin as he led the way to the second floor chambers of R. Howell Lindsey.
“You ready for this?” Sharon whispered as they took their seats in the judge’s anteroom.
“As I’ll ever be,” Brad muttered, hoping he’d make a convincing case and that Josh Miller would come through with exhibit number one. Courtroom tension spilled into the waiting room as the principals in the lawsuit maintained their distance;
each engaged in confidential conversations with their attorney. Amanda Carothers seemed to be having a particularly difficult time, Brad thought, wringing her hands and dabbing her eyes with a crumpled tissue. Sharon joined Diane Gursten in providing Amanda much needed moral support.
Ben Slatpin sat in the chair next to Brad, his eyes closed and wheezing.
“You okay?” Brad asked.
“I’m fine. I’ve brought you this far. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Brad smiled. “That makes two of us.”
A secretary emerged from the office to say that the judge was ready, and everyone silently filed into chambers and arranged themselves in two rows of chairs that formed a semi-circle in front of the judge’s desk. Tall ceilings, plush carpeting, and velour draperies at two tall windows were impressive, along with the wall of mahogany bookshelves lined with leather legal volumes added an aura of formality to what was intended to be an informal meeting.
Brad sat in the front row along with Amanda, Denton, and three attorneys. Denton’s wife Sarah sat in the back row along with Sharon. There were two additional chairs in that row that were soon filled when Josh Miller entered escorting a bewildered Bob Kepner. Kepner sat securely between Sharon and the detective.
Brad turned and stared expectantly at Josh and received the nod for which he hoped.
Judge Lindsey had shed her robes and wore a charcoal suit and polka-dotted lilac blouse, but kept her judicial demeanor as she said, “Mr. Frame, I understand you would like to have the floor. Please don’t waste the court’s time.”
Brad stood. “Thank you, your Honor. I realize this may be a bit irregular, but my purpose is to see justice done, which in this case would best be served by reuniting a mother and her son.” Brad gestured toward Amanda and Denton. “Much of what I have to say could be elicited in public testimony in the hearing downstairs. The participants would eventually know all, but some of what needs to be said is conjecture or can only be drawn by inference. I ask the court’s indulgence to help me bring this family back together.”
Jeb Cooley stood and heaved a sigh that could be heard half-way to Charleston. “Your Honor, I object. If Mr. Frame has facts, let him put them on the record.”
“Sit down, Mr. Cooley. I noted your objection during the sidebar. But I’ve offered Mr. Frame a twenty minute conference. If the court is not satisfied that this resolves the matter, we will reconvene downstairs. Go ahead, Mr. Frame.”
Brad stood and faced the group.
“The lives of the Carothers family changed on April 6th, four years ago, when Dana was found dead in the family garage due to carbon monoxide asphyxiation. The death was ruled a suicide. Dana’s mother believed that her son had everything to live for and was incapable of taking his own life. While her oldest son—pursuing a promising military career—was stung by the shame and embarrassment associated with the news of his brother’s suicide. Denton found himself haunted by the fear that his brother’s death might impair his career. As each of them dealt with their own grief and individual reactions to Dana’s death, their opinions hardened, and the estrangement grew between them. Amanda sought refuge in alcohol and drugs, and Denton became more embittered over what his brother’s death had done to a once solid and happy family life.”
Denton Jr., pursed his lips as Brad spoke, but watched intently. Behind him, his wife Sarah bobbed her head as she listened to Brad.
“I can tell you with certainty that Dana Carothers did not commit suicide. I know this because his murderer was taken into custody within the last hour.”
Amanda and Diane exchanged glances, and Brad noticed that for the first time the participants paid more attention to the presence of Detective Miller.
“Recently another young life tragically ended,” Brad continued. “At first, there were signs it too may have been suicide, but on careful examination it was determined to be homicide. Kathy Westin was murdered because she got too close to the truth of how and why Dana died. Kathy loved Dana. During these past four and a half years—while his family members agonized about his death—Kathy lived with her own grief and doubts. When Kathy heard that I was investigating Dana’s death, she decided to make inquiries on her own. On the day she was murdered, Kathy called Bob Kepner’s office to ask a few questions. Unfortunately, she paid dearly for what she learned.”
“Dana’s murderer hasn’t been charged with his death yet, only Kathy’s. I hope to provide sufficient evidence to the sheriff’s office to establish probable cause for indictment on Dana’s murder as well.”
“But I thought all the evidence pointed to suicide,” Denton Carothers interjected.
“No, not all. If there had been a full-fledged autopsy at the time of his death, the medical examiner might have paid closer attention to the bruises on Dana’s body. The late Dr. Phillips dismissed the bruise on his head as having been caused when Dana lost consciousness and collapsed to the concrete floor. Actually, the evidence suggests he fell from atop a five gallon bucket, which he used in order to reach and manually disengage the automatic garage door opener.”
Brad saw Denton glance at his mother, but she didn’t return his gaze.
“An autopsy might also have distinguished the severity of the bruise on his knee. From Homer Summerfield’s description, such a bruise was unlikely to have resulted from merely a collapse to the floor,” Brad explained.
“Puzzling to me from the very beginning was the evidence that the electric garage door was working when his body was found, and the interior door to the house was unlocked. Those facts made suicide seem probable. But because of the recording Dana made on the morning of his death, we have proof the electricity was turned off for approximately fifteen minutes on the morning of the murder. The murderer, who turned off the main circuit breaker to prevent the garage door from opening, would also have been in a position to lock the inside door and reopen it before leaving the scene.”
Brad heard Amanda sniffling.
“Mrs. Carothers recalled that there had been a rope attached to the automatic opener which could be used to disengage the mechanism. But that rope was missing after Dana’s death.”
“What do you think happened?” Amanda asked.
Brad glanced at the judge to make sure he wasn’t about to get too far afield if he addressed Amanda’s question. Judge Lindsey signaled her permission.
“On the morning of the murder, Amanda, you woke Dana before leaving for your studio. We know he was awake by nine a.m. because he began to record his favorite Saturday radio program. Shortly after nine he took a shower but was interrupted when he heard the sound of pounding on the front door.”
Brad could see Sarah Carothers tense in her chair.
Brad continued, to Sarah’s obvious relief, “It was a friend, and it serves no purpose to reveal who visited. But it was this friend who was responsible for opening a new carton of pineapple juice in the your refrigerator. This visitor left by 9:30 a.m., and we can only assume the murderer arrived soon thereafter since we know Dana died between 10:12 a.m. and 10:27 a.m.”
Jeb Cooley sounded unconvinced as he asked, “How do you know that?”
“On the tape of bluegrass music that Dana was recording there was an abrupt change in songs twelve minutes into the second hour of Dana’s recording. At the end of that same tape, thirteen minutes of news followed by rock music could be heard. This means there was a fifteen minute stretch beginning at 10:12 a.m. when the power was turned off.”
Brad looked to make certain Cooley was satisfied with his answer before continuing.
“On the night before he died, several people observed Dana as seemingly irritable and confused. We now know that he was struggling with news that would jeopardize his relationship with his girlfriend, Kathy Westin, and his best friend, Bob Kepner.”
Brad saw Bob Kepner fidget in his seat.
“Dana learned that Linda Reinhardt was pregnant, and the more he thought about it the more he realized he was responsible. Bob and Dana shared an ap
artment at college. They didn’t have secrets from each other, and Dana knew Bob hadn’t slept with Linda from the time Linda’s mother kicked Bob out of her trailer. Their relationship had been on hold for at least three months.”
“I don’t understand what all this has to do with Dana’s death,” Amanda whined. Brad watched Diane place a comforting hand on Amanda’s arm.
“It’s all to do with what motivated Dana’s killer,” Brad said. “Dana learned that Bob had received a letter from Linda with the news of her pregnancy. Linda was eager to climb the socioeconomic ladder from the poor circumstances into which she had been born. Trapping Bob Kepner—an up and coming young architect with a family trust fund—into marriage was one way for her to break that cycle.”
“We loved each other,” Bob Kepner said, staring at the floor as he spoke. “When she told me she was pregnant I never doubted it was my child.”
“But when Dana learned of Linda’s pregnancy,” Brad continued, “he remembered those weekends when Linda had tutored him in math. He recalled an unplanned intimate moment the two of them had had in January—January 26th to be precise. Dana began to have the nagging suspicion that he might be the father of Linda’s child.
“One of the reasons, Denton, that you were so certain Dana had committed suicide was a library book you found in his room entitled, Till Death We Part: The Life Cycle. I downloaded a copy of the book, and discovered that more than half of it is devoted to conception and the birthing process. We found a notebook in Dana’s bedroom with a calendar drawn from January to March of the year he died. Days were counted beginning at the end of January. Scribbled in the margin were the cryptic words till death we part—which must have been a reference to the book he’d borrowed. Dana kept track of the days since Linda’s conception, and how soon it was possible to detect pregnancy. From Dana’s other college roommate Craig Simmons, we learned that Dana had read Linda’s letter to Bob telling him about seeing her doctor.”
Bob Kepner kept bobbing his head, agreeing with the information Brad presented.