by J. W. Lucas
“Man! These Green Mountain boys sound very sophisticated, don’t they?”
“I don’t know, but if my hunch is correct, the criminals behind all of this are from Jersey,” I explained.
“Damn, I almost wish I was up there with you. Okay, you’ll need a search warrant for my techs to sweep the courthouse. I’ll tell them that there may be a microwave component to this, in case they’ll need some additional equipment.”
“You read my mind, but I’m afraid my need for your techs will be on short notice next week,” I said.
“I’ll handle that. All right, let me go, I’m tired and thirsty. Call me with an update tomorrow.”
“Will do, and thanks again Boss.”
Mandy looked over at me and asked, “Is everything all right Daryl? That was a long call.”
“Yeah, actually everything seems to be coming together. I’m getting all the help that I said I needed. Tomorrow morning I’ll be getting some important phone calls, and I’ll need to set up a meeting with the people I’ll be working with.”
“Are these people you can trust?”
“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“Okay, but don’t forget we’re meeting with Linda Sturgis at the re-settlement village at two-thirty tomorrow.”
“I won’t forget. Let’s have another cocktail and go to bed. It’s been a long day for both of us.”
“Does beer count as a cocktail? I’ll have to get you some VO and coke this week,” she asked with a grin.
“For tonight my dear, beer will suffice, as well as a good night’s sleep.
Sgt. Jon Michaels called at nine-fifteen in the morning “Daryl Richardson? Jon Michaels here. Can you talk?”
“Yeah Jon, thanks for calling. Have you been briefed on this case?” “Yeah, Capt. Merrill filled me in. This is a pleasure. I’ve been chomping at the bit to get a piece of that bastard Porky Hunter. He’s as corrupt as they come. I’ve been saying that for years. Friend, you must have some pull to finally get this case moving. What do you need from me?” he asked.
“Jon, my boss in Boston spoke with your boss and our work will focus on getting a search warrant for the County ME’s office. He reportedly did an autopsy of the murdered Peterson girl, and there are allegations that his medical assistant may be dealing drugs.”
“Okay, who’s your warrant man?” the Sergeant asked.
“A Federal attorney, Jacob Meisner. Ever hear of him?”
“Have I? He’s almost a legend! I took some warrant classes he taught, he’s the best there is! Damn man, you have some pull. Who’s this medical assistant?” he queried.
“Some guy named Farhan; I don’t know his last name. From what I’ve been told he’s from the Middle East.”
“Farhan Hussein by chance?” he immediately asked.
“I don’t know the last name, Jon.”
“Huh! I have an informant that mentioned an Arabic guy who supposedly has been cooking up crystal meth and mixing heroin and fentanyl for street sales. He said his name is Hussein. My guys have been working on trying to get a better ID on him for weeks, but we’ve come up dry. You say this Farhan guy is a medical assistant?”
“That’s what I was told. He may have been trained as a physician over there but he can’t practice in this country,” I answered.
“Hmmm,” he said, “our source tells us that this Hussein guy entered the country through Canada.”
“Jon, we’re also going for a warrant to seize the bullets that were removed from Judge Moran. The Medical Center is holding them.”
“Bullets? Was he shot more than once? I read he’s alive, how’s he doing?” he asked.
“Yeah, two bullets, different calibers. The judge is on the mend.”
“Two shooters?” he asked. I could hear the surprise in his voice. “I don’t know Jon.”
“Okay, when will you have the warrants?” he asked.
“I’m hoping by late Thursday afternoon. Meisner is supposed to call me later this morning,” I explained.
“Okay. Where are you now? I’m home and live a little southwest of Rutland, can we meet up somewhere today?” he asked.
I told him of my planned interview at the resettlement village and its connection to the case. He said he could get down to Bellington around four thirty and we agreed to meet in my hotel bar.
I hung up and waited for my next call.
At precisely ten AM Attorney Jacob Meisner called me.“Daryl Richardson? Meisner here. I understand you need my assistance.”
I thanked him for calling and explained my need for search warrants for Dr. Greene’s office, the hospital, and the courthouse for the eavesdropping sweep.
“Hey Richardson, that’s a lot. Don’t you know how to write a warrant affidavit?”
“I do Mr. Meisner, but I was told that you are an expert at that. And I’m pressed for time on this. I’d better explain,” I said.
It took me about five minutes to lay out the whole scenario. When I finished there was silence on the phone. “You still there Mr. Meisner?”
“I am. Okay, I get it. I was told to give you whatever you needed as soon as possible without question. I need from you though, descriptions of where you’ll be searching and what you’re looking for.”
“I’ve written up some drafts that lay out the basic probable cause, but you’ll need to flesh them out. I’ll send you the property and item descriptions by email, I just need your address,” I explained.
“Richardson, the tough one will be the courthouse. Do you really think that the place is bugged?” he asked.
“I do Sir, but I think when you read the affidavit you’ll find we have the bare minimum threshold of cause for the search. Hopefully you’ll find a liberal judge to review the applications.”
“Leave the judges to me Richardson; I haven’t been turned down yet.” He gave me his email address and I wrote it in my notebook.
“That’s re-assuring Mr. Meisner, but I have to be honest. The court house search is critical to all of this.”
“I’ll get you your warrants. And when I do, you owe me a drink,” he said.
“Get the warrant Sir, and I’ll buy you the whole bottle!”
Mandy came down into the living room and I saw that she had dressed as if she was going to work. She looked great!
“Are you done with your phone calls?” she asked.
“I am,” I answered, “but I need your help with something.”
I explained that we needed to drive by Dr. Greene’s office and the Medical Center and for her to type up descriptions of the properties as I drove.
“Okay, but I don’t understand any legal things. What do I have to do?” she asked. I sensed she was nervous.
I told her that we would bring my laptop and I would tell her what to write, and that I would explain search warrants to her as we drove. We put Yo-Yo’s art supplies in the shopping bag, put it in the Challenger’s trunk and were on the road fifteen minutes later. As we drove I explained search warrants and the need to establish probable cause to search, and to be specific in what we would be searching for.
“I think I understand, but just tell me what to type.” I pulled to the curb just before Dr. Greene’s office and dictated the description. When I asked her to type the phrase “and appurtenances,” she said she couldn’t spell a word she had never heard before.
“Do you see those out-buildings behind his house?” I asked. “One looks like a shed, the other like a cottage. Those are out-buildings. In law, they’re called appurtenances.”
“Geez, why don’t you just say out-buildings. Lawyers, ugh! Thank God for spell check,” she said as she slowly pecked the laptop keys sounding out the word. As I drove I gave her a list of items that we would be searching for and she finished typing everything within ten minutes.
“How on earth can you think of these things so fast?” she asked shaking her head.
“Experience” I answered, “lots of experience.”
The descrip
tion of the Medical Center was easy, and after I dictated descriptions of the bullets, she finished typing. I pulled into the parking lot and stopped. I took the laptop from her and copied the two documents in an email and sent it to Jacob Meisner, along with photos I had taken of the doctor’s house and courthouse. As we headed up to Ethan Falls, she was quiet for a long time.
“Nervous?” I asked, looking over to her.
“I am, I’m sorry, but I am. I don’t want us to upset Susan’s parents, and I’m really nervous about meeting Yo-Yo.” “
“Just try to relax. I know that all of this is new to you, but I really need you to be strong. I can’t do this without you.
“Do you really mean that Daryl?”she asked quietly.
“I do. I really need you.” I answered. She reached over and held my hand until we arrived at the Peterson’s house.
Their house was a cute Cape, well maintained on about two acres. The flower gardens were beautiful. As we pulled into the driveway Eddie Peterson looked every bit the Marine combat veteran I envisioned him to be. Pushing seventy, he wasn’t tall but solid like a pit bull. The crew-cut, square jaw, and Marine Corps tattoo on his forearm sealed his identity. I had never met a war hero before.
As we got out of the car Mandy went up to him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Mr. Peterson, I would like you to meet my friend, Daryl Richardson”
“Pleased to me you Sir,” I said as I reached out to shake his hand. His grip was short-lived but like a vise.
“Call me Eddie.”
“Eddie it is. I’m Daryl.” He nodded and motioned us to the side door. Sarah Peterson was in the kitchen, and I was struck by how attractive she was for a woman her age. Now I could see where her daughter’s beauty came from. Mandy introduced us and we sat at the table. Eddie spoke first. “Daryl, Mandy says that you’re here to help us. We’re grateful for that.”
“Eddie, Mrs. Peterson, there aren’t any right words to express my sympathies for your loss, but I want you to know that I will do my best to find the person that took Susan away from you. Mandy reached under the table and pressed her hand against my thigh. I could feel her tremor.
Our lunch was sandwiches, tasty chicken and tuna salads, washed down with sweet homemade lemonade. The Peterson’s talked about Susan and her career. Music was her life, and I learned that she had spent a summer at Berklee College of Music in Boston polishing her vocal skills.
They said her work with her band had drawn the attention of some music talent scouts and she had been offered a recording contract in Nashville. She could sing any genre of music, but modern country was her passion. As they talked I could see the sadness creeping into their faces. I looked over to Mandy and saw that her eyes were glassy, but she fought off the tears. I could see that Susan Peterson was loved and missed by all.
“Daryl, we Googled you as Mandy suggested,” Eddie said, “and I have to say that you’ve had a remarkable life.”
“I have Eddie, and that’s why I’m here. I think that my experience as an investigator can help give you the closure that you’re seeking, and the time to heal the wounds of your loss. I know Susan will always be in your hearts.”
The second I finished speaking, I wished that I hadn’t said what I did. The three of them at the table broke into tears. I gave them a few moments.
“Eddie, why don’t you and I go outside and talk, I need your help with something,” I said. We excused ourselves and went out to the backyard and sat at a picnic table.
“Daryl, do you know that some people think Susan was killed by the Sheriffs?” he said as he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “I do Eddie,” and told him about the anonymous letter. “I wish I could find the person who wrote it. If there’s any truth to the allegations that person could help to find her killer.”
I looked into his face and searched for any sign that he may have written it, but it wasn’t there. I learned long ago that an absence of evidence can sometimes be as incriminating as evidence itself. He didn’t respond to my probe, but I sensed there was something else there.
“Eddie, I was told that you paid a visit to Judge Moran. Why did you do that?”
“I went there because I wasn’t getting any answers from the Sheriffs. The day they found her body they came here and told us she was dead and questioned us about any ex-boyfriends, did she use drugs, and did she drink. I was outraged with the accusations that they were making.” Before I could interject he continued. “They went up to her room and ransacked the place. They said they were searching for drugs that she may have been trying to hide from us. I went nuts, and I grabbed them and pushed them downstairs and out of my house. I wanted to kill them for the things that they were saying about my daughter.”
“Who from the Sheriff’s Department did that?”
“Carpa, a couple of the deputies I had never met before. I told them to get out and never set foot on my property again,” he said banging his fist on the table. I could see that his rage was about to explode. “Eddie, do you know if in fact an autopsy was performed?”
“No. I tried to have one done. I went through the funeral director because they wouldn’t put my calls through to the Sheriff, and he was told that it was a police matter and that the family had no say in anything. I was going to go down to the police station to settle this once and for all, but my wife begged me not to. She was so destroyed by losing Susan that I had to listen to her and honor her request, so I never went there.”
“A couple of weeks later with still no answers, I went to see Judge Moran in hopes that he could help get the State Police or FBI to investigate. He’s a fair man in my book, and he listened and talked with me for a long time. He said he would try to help me. Then a few days later I heard he got shot. “Why? Why?” he yelled, pounding his fist on the table. He cradled his head in his hands, and I sat there and watched a true war hero cry over the loss of his daughter. I felt sick. I was sitting with my back to the kitchen door and I sensed someone or something behind me.
I turned and saw Sarah Peterson and Mandy standing there, shaking from holding back their tears, their hands clenched to their mouths. I don’t know how long they were there, but I was afraid it was long enough to watch Eddie Peterson become a broken man. Both women rushed over and hugged Eddie for a long time. I got up and walked away from the table. I was angry with myself for hurting this family.
Mandy came over to me and gave me a hug. Taking my hand, she led me back to the table.
“Daryl, I’m so sorry that happened,” Eddie offered as an apology. “I’ve been holding that rage back for a long time and it finally came out on you. Please forgive me.”
“Eddie,” I said, “forgiveness isn’t necessary. Please help me find who did this to your daughter. I promise you, they will suffer for what they did.” He looked at me and reached over and took my hand into his grip.
“Thank You Daryl; you’re a God-send. What can I do?”
The four of us sat at the table and I asked Eddie about his nighttime forays to look for Susan’s car. He looked over at his wife and shook his head.
“The first I heard her car was missing was yesterday,” I told him. “Haven’t the Sheriffs talked to you about where it is?”
“No, not a word. There’s a lot of hunting camps up in the woods where she was found, a lot of dirt roads, cabins, shacks, old barns. The property butts up against that damned survivalist camp.”
“What was your thought going up there?” I asked.
“We were never told the car was stolen, or found. I had it in my head that it was hidden in one of those buildings up there. I was searching through them,” he explained.
Mandy looked over at me and I discretely shook my head to let her know that I wasn’t going to betray Eddie’s secret. Any man who crawled into tunnels in the jungle looking for Viet Cong would think checking out old Vermont barns in the dead of night was a walk in the park.
“Eddie, obviously you didn’t find her car. Have you searched every build
ing up there?” I asked.
“All but one. Most of the buildings have been abandoned, I don’t even know if there are records to show who owns them, but most of that property seems to be owned by the survivalist camp. The one old barn has a dirt trail that runs through the camp. I haven’t been able to get a close look at it but I can see ruts in the road. You know, like something has recently been driven on it.”
“Eddie, who owns the survivalist camp?” I asked.
“Good question. A few of us neighbors sued them because of their damn firing range being so close to our properties, and that damn shooting into the late hours of the night was a nightmare for all of us. I know what a machine gun sounds like, and they were getting a lot of practice with them.”
“But who owns the camp? Who answered the lawsuit?” I pressed
“I don’t know. They had a couple of lawyers from New York or New Jersey show up at Court. There was never a trial; Judge Moran worked out a compromise.”
I sat up straight and thought to myself, here’s the Jersey connection again. Before I could ask another question, Mandy interrupted and reminded me that we had an appointment with Linda Sturgis. I thanked the Petersons for their time and just before we left I pulled Eddie aside. “Eddie, if I could work it out would you be willing to guide me and a couple of my associates up to that barn some night in the next week?” He looked at me for a moment and said, “Not dressed like that,” nodding to my suit. I smiled.“No, I assure you that we would be dressed appropriately for a covert mission.”
