He looked down at the table between us as if the answer was written there. After a pause, he answered, “Yes Sir, I was in some body builder competitions until about three years ago. I never used any steroids or other drugs. I stopped entering because I couldn’t keep up with the steroid enhanced competitors; they’ve ruined the sport. I still watch my diet, avoid alcohol, and work out every day.”
“I noticed that you’re from Utah. Are you a Mormon?”
For the first time in our interview the pale skin of Sam’s face turned red. He was either annoyed at the question or embarrassed by it. He answered in a quiet voice, “Yes sir.”
“Have you done your mission yet, Sam?”
Sam nodded and replied in the same soft tentative tone, “Yes sir. I finished a mission in the Ukraine last November. It’s good to be back in the States.” His voice lacked the sense of pride that I expected. The mission might not have gone well. I suspected that Mormons might not be very welcome in the former USSR.
“That mission must have been interesting,” I said. “You saw Jim Otto asleep when you went to work and briefly at a party the night of his death. Were you asleep when Jim turned in for the night? Tell me what you remember about finding Jim dead in the morning.”
“I was asleep when my roommates returned from the party. I don’t know what time they hit the sack but it was after 11:00. I woke up to a long string of obscenities shouted by Billy Blackstone. He’d stepped in Jim’s blood not realizing what it was. When he turned on the light, his outburst was cut off in mid cuss word. I heard an anguished ‘Jim’ as he saw the body. I sat up in my bunk and looked across at Jim. He looked dead; a pool of blood spread around his head and formed a puddle on the floor. Billy went to get some help, and I woke up Will Blake who sleeps on the bunk bed above me. I can’t imagine how Will slept through Billy’s tirade, but I think he’d had a lot to drink the night before. Will and Jim were really good buddies and hiked together a lot.”
“What happened next?”
“Will got down from his bunk and looked at Jim closely. He touched his neck and started crying when he realized Jim was dead. I had to go to the john, so I left briefly. When I returned, there were a dozen people gathered around the room. I retrieved some clothes from the room and went down the hall to shower and get dressed. I was planning to go to work, but the rangers made me stay and answer questions. Later Deputy Callison asked a lot more questions. I missed the whole breakfast shift. I’m sorry I couldn’t help much, but Jim and I worked different shifts in different restaurants. I didn’t see much of him.”
“Do you have a theory of the crime? Why would someone kill Jim Otto? I’ve been told everyone liked him.”
Sam replied, “Yes sir. Jim was very popular. My guess is that something happened at the party. Jim may have gotten into a fight or in some other manner made an enemy, probably over a girl. I think some drunken coward killed him while he was asleep in revenge for something that happened that night.”
“I was told that Jim had a girlfriend in Boston and didn’t date anyone here.”
Sam’s eyes were looking slightly left of my face. “It’s difficult for a guy like Jim to be faithful to one absent girlfriend. Women loved that smile of his. A lot of them wanted to be close to him, and when Jim drank, it was difficult for him to be faithful. I know that he met tourists here in the Village. The desk clerks even keep track of when attractive single women check in and pass the word around the dorm. The guys here at Colter House look at bedding these tourist women as a sport. About a month ago, I spilled coffee on my shirt during the lunch shift and went back to the room to change. Jim was in bed with a young woman that I didn’t recognize. I think he usually went to their rooms because that was the only time I saw him in the dorm with one. Jim probably dated only tourists. They move on quickly and don’t create complications. I never saw him with anyone who works here.”
Sam was not able to provide more detail or name any women who might have had a relationship with Jim Otto. What he had reported sounded reasonable, but it contradicted what Billy Blackstone and Jason McKinney had said.
“In your previous interview with Deputy Callison, you reported that you didn’t hear anything during the night that Jim was killed even though it happened right next to your bunk. Have you remembered anything?”
Sam looked down at my hands rather than my face. He pressed his thumbs against his forefingers forming a small circle with each hand, and answered, “No sir. I don’t remember hearing anything at all. I’m a sound sleeper.”
I finished by saying, “Sam, I need for you to be available in case we have more questions. You’ll be around, I assume.”
“Sir, my dad never wanted me to take this job. He went ballistic when he learned someone was murdered in the next bunk. Dad insisted that I leave the Colter House dorm. I learned today that I’m being transferred down to Phantom Ranch. My father thinks I’ll be safe at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It’s so hot down there that it’s not a popular job in the summer. I’ll be working in the little store and serving meals. There’s no good place to workout, and the tips will be much worse than in El Tovar, but I promised my dad. There’s an emergency phone down there if you need to reach me.”
In every surface manner, Sam seemed like a fine young man. However, there was something about his reaction to the death of a roommate and his non-verbal responses that made me move him up a notch on my suspect list.
CHAPTER 11
After Sam left the room, Tony, the headwaiter said, “Two more of my waiters are standing by to meet with you. They’re both on duty. Will it take long deputy?”
“Tony, where were you on the night that Jim Otto was killed?”
Tony looked both annoyed and flustered at my direct question. “I worked until 10:30 and then went home to bed. I didn’t even know the boy who was killed.”
Tony reached down to clear the table of the remains of my lunch, and I said, “Tony, give me your driver’s license.”
Tony now looked seriously pissed. He said, “You’re kidding.”
I put out my hand and looked at Tony with a frown. “Do you have something to hide Tony?”
He handed me his Arizona driver’s license, and I made a show of writing down his full name, address, and license number. I asked in my most serious tone, “Do you have witnesses to verify where you were after you left work at 10:30 the night of the murder.”
Tony’s address was a motel in Tusayan and he wore no wedding ring. He stuttered slightly and sounded less imperious as he replied, “No officer, I live alone. I just went to sleep as soon as I got home. I didn’t even know the kid.”
I looked Tony over carefully, as if I wanted to be able to pick him out of a lineup at some later date. I said with a frown, “Send in Billy Blackstone.”
Tony seemed relieved to be replaced by Billy as the subject of my inquiry. I felt only a little guilty for trying to intimidate the sour faced Tony. He had called me deputy rather than lieutenant, which is one of my pet peeves. I thought he would be a little less arrogant the next time I saw him.
Billy Blackstone entered and extended a hand saying, “Glad to see you sheriff.”
“Billy, please call me Mike. Actually, I only work for Sheriff Taylor. I’m a lieutenant of detectives. I manage the Sedona office, but I’m up here on special assignment. Have a seat Billy. Let’s talk about Jim Otto some more.”
“Poor Jim. Have you learned anything yet?”
“I can’t discuss the investigation, Billy. I’m asking people questions, but we’ve made no arrests. It still seems strange that none of his roommates heard anything. Do you remember anything that might help?”
“Well Mike, it’s a dorm. People are coming and going on different shifts. Sometimes guys party till the sun comes up. There’s always some noise. We’ve just learned to sleep through it. Also, Will and I drank more than normal because of the get-together the night before.”
“What time did you leave the party?”
“I turned in about midnight because I had a breakfast shift. I don’t know when Jim and Will hit the sack. Sam Gilbert was already asleep.” His expression was very sincere.
“Billy, when I saw you this morning you said that Jim didn’t date anyone here because he was engaged to a girl in Boston. That’s not exactly the same story that I’ve gotten from some others.”
Billy explained, “Jim was sure in love with a girl name Liz in Boston. He called her all the time. He didn’t date any of the girls that worked here in the Village.”
I looked closely at Billy’s face watching for a reaction. I noticed that there was a small white spot below his lip. He had a ring in his lip at some point in his past. I assumed that the hotel prohibited a visible piercing. I had noticed several garish tattoos on his back and arms when I’d seen Tony this morning, but his waiter’s uniform covered them. I asked, “Did you ever see Jim with a tourist?”
Billy explained, “Mike, I wasn’t lying to you. Guys here don’t think of a one-nighter with a tourist as dating. It’s just a release of tension, not a relationship. Hell, we’ve all spent an occasional night with a lonely tourist. I especially like girls from Europe. They can really provide a fun time. It doesn’t mean anything. Jim was faithful to Liz.”
I was amused at Billy’s definition of faithfulness. He had a lot to learn about the opposite sex. I asked, “Did Jim have a non-date social contact with a tourist at the party? Billy, I’m looking for a motive. Did Jim find either a woman or get in a fight at the party?”
“Jim never got in fist fights. He was very easy going. I didn’t see any tourists at the party; it was just employees. Maybe Will could answer for sure. I know Jim hadn’t hooked up with anyone when I left.”
I did not seem to be getting anywhere in this investigation, but Will Blake was probably the last person to see Jim Otto alive.
I asked a final question. “Billy, do you know what Jim was doing before the party?”
Billy explained, “I was off work at 3:00, but I didn’t see Jim until after dark. I saw him going into the Colter House about 8:00. I’m sure he’d been hiking. He had that red dust on his boots and socks that we always get from deep in the Canyon. Jim often hiked down to the river on his days off.”
I gave Billy my card and my cell phone number and asked him to call me if he recalled anything useful.
Shortly after Billy left, Tony returned and handed me a book. He said, “Sir, a woman ranger brought this for you. Should I send Will Blake in now?” Tony had given me the book on deaths in the Grand Canyon that Amy Ziegler had mentioned.
CHAPTER 12
Before beginning these interviews, I had read the personnel files of each of the Fred Harvey employees that I’d interviewed today. I knew that Will Blake was William Randolph Collins Blake III of Boston. Will was twenty-four years old. He’d graduated from Amherst College with a C minus GPA in December. He had taken five and a half years to graduate with a BA. Will Blake started work at El Tovar as a kitchen helper the week after Christmas. Washing dishes is not a prestigious job for an Amherst Alumni. He had been promoted to waiter about three months ago. His file noted that he was excellent with customers and energetic at work, but he’d often been late for his shift. He was currently on probation for excessive tardiness. I’d learned that shifts for waiters at El Tovar rotated. However, someone with a lot of seniority could usually pick his preferred shifts. As very new waiters, Will Blake, Sam Gilbert, and Billy Blackstone would often be stuck with lower tip breakfast duty.
Will Blake walked in confidently and introduced himself. He was about six feet and 180 pounds. He had extremely dark facial hair that even this morning’s shave hadn’t eliminated. The hair on his head was cut very short. Busy black eyebrows were positioned over brown perpetually squinting eyes. His skin was very brown from his hiking. Will looked restless and maybe a little hung over as he sat down.
I started the conversation giving Will one of my business cards and explaining, “Will, I guess you know I’m here investigating the murder of Jim Otto. I’m a detective with the county sheriff’s office. I know you were interviewed the morning Jim was found, but please bear with me and go over everything one more time. Tell me everything you can remember of Jim’s final day.”
Will spoke confidently. “Jim and I were hiking buddies as well as roommates. Because we often hiked together, we tried to schedule the same days off. The day before Jim was killed, we were both off work. I got up about 10:00 and went to get some breakfast. Jim was still asleep. Sam and Billy had already gone. About 11:00, I returned to the room. Jim was up and dressed in his hiking stuff. He didn’t ever eat breakfast. I explained that I needed to drive to Flagstaff that day. I wanted to do a little shopping and get my car serviced. I invited Jim to come along, but he hated cities and never went to town if there was any choice.”
Will paused as if thinking about the day. He continued, “I didn’t see Jim until I went to the party that night. He was already there when I got back from Flag. We both had a great time that night. Gin flowed like a class five rapids on the mighty Colorado River. The party may have lasted all night, but we went to our room at 2:30. I had to be at work by 10:30. I remember we were feeling no pain and weaving down the hall toward our room. I had a hell of time getting the key to work, but finally we got into the room and headed for our bunks. I know I stepped on poor old Sam as I was climbing up to my bunk. He yelled out a cuss word that I’d never heard from our Mormon preacher friend. The bed was moving like an Atlantic crossing in winter and then started spinning like a Maytag, but I quickly fell asleep. The next thing I remember was Sam waking me up and my buddy Jim’s blood all over his bunk and the floor. Jesus H. Christ, I hope you catch the bastard.”
I asked a follow-up question. “Will, you mentioned having a difficult time with the lock to your room. Do you remember if you locked it behind you?”
Will answered without hesitation, “It locks itself automatically when the door closes. We always have to keep the key with us. I locked myself out a dozen times until I got in the habit of always carrying one.”
I tried not to let the fact that I was seriously pissed off and monumentally embarrassed show. The local office of the Coconino County Sheriff’s Department was weak, but this level of carelessness was absurd. The Jim Otto murder file had not mentioned that the door was probably locked. I’d been assuming that Deputy Callison would have asked that sort of question and mentioned it in the file.
“Are you certain that the door was fully closed and locked when you turned in for the night,” I asked.
He looked puzzled at the question. He explained, “It has one of the automatic closing things. Unless you prop it open with a chair or something, it shuts and locks you out of the room. Detective, I’m certain it was closed and locked when we went to bed. How the hell did the murderer get into the room?”
“Was there any sign of the door being forced or tampered with?”
Will replied confidently, “No sir, it wasn’t broken or marked or anything.”
“Who else has a key?”
Will thought that over. His expression indicated that he might be considering that one of his roommates was a murderer. He frowned and said, “They don’t ever change the locks when someone moves out. Anyone who lived in that room might have made a duplicate key. I’m sure someone in the administrative office must have a passkey to all the rooms. I’ve never given anyone a key. I don’t know about the other guys.”
The locked door might be significant, however the skill of picking an ordinary lock is not too difficult to master. Any number of former residents of that room might have a key. However, it raised slightly the possibility that one of the three roommates was the murderer.
I changed the subject. “Will, tell me more about Jim Otto. I’m looking for any kind of motive. Did he have any enemies?”
“Jim was a hell of a guy. He met every problem with a smile. No one could stay mad at Jim. I never heard him say a cross word to anyone; he treated e
veryone as his best friend. We spent a lot of time together. I’d know if he was having trouble with anyone. He got along great with all three of his roommates.”
Will was trying to make certain that I knew that he didn’t suspect Sam or Billy. At this point in the investigation, I had not dismissed anyone from suspicion. A young man, supposedly liked by everyone, was bludgeoned with a hammer in his sleep in his own bed. There had to be a motive. I thought the motive was connected to the death of Helga Günter.
“Can you think of a motive? Nothing was taken from the room. Everyone liked Jim. Do you have any explanation for his murder?”
Will placed his right hand on his forehead as if that might help him think. There was a long pause as he searched for any explanation. After more than a minute, he said, “Maybe it was something from before he came to the Grand Canyon or maybe it was just a random sort of thing by a crazy person. No one here would kill Jim. All of us liked him. It was impossible not to.”
“What trail do you think Jim hiked that last day?” I asked.
Will seemed surprised by the question. He said, “Judging by the time he left and returned, I’d guess Jim did the South Kaibab Bright Angel loop. It was one of his favorites. Jim knew most of the bus drivers. Maybe one will remember if they took him to the South Kaibab trailhead that day.”
“If Jim left after you headed for Flagstaff, how long do you think that hike would take?” I asked.
“Without me to slow him down, Jim could be up and out of the Canyon about dark. He could have showered and changed and still made it to the party by 9:00 when I first saw him. Jim could really move when he didn’t need to wait on anyone else.”
That schedule would have put Jim near the location of Helga Günter’s body slightly before it was found. He might have seen someone he knew waiting in that outcropping of rock along the Bright Angel Trail. So far all of the information fit with my theory of the crime. Someone who liked Jim might still have killed him to cover up another murder.
The Murders at El Tovar Page 6