About 11:00, I called Mrs. Morrow at the Scottsdale Clinic. She described the recent excitement. “When the police came for Amanda, there was a big shouting match. She said a lot of words that a lady should never use. The cops threatened to handcuff her if she didn’t settle down. This happened in the reception area in front of patients. I’m sure the clinic will make a formal complaint to the police.” Her undertone indicated that she might have enjoyed witnessing the cold Miss Brandt being hurried away by the cops.
“They are just taking her for questioning. As you know from my visit, there is suspicion about Dr. Cantor’s death and some other matters that involved the clinic,” I said.
“As she was leaving, Amanda asked me to call her attorney. Gretchen Arthur is a well-known criminal attorney who has gotten a lot of drug peddlers off. I thought it was funny that she knew a criminal attorney to contact. Mrs. Arthur said she would immediately meet Amanda and Trevor at the police station. She also mentioned someone named John Nordstrom that I had never heard of. Now I ask you, how did she know that Trevor would need help too and who is this other guy? This is a very peculiar business.” The tone of glee was now unmistakable in Mrs. Morrow’s matronly voice.
“I’d like you to keep our discussion confidential. I need your help in understanding how the clinic manages the prescriptions that your doctors order, especially strong narcotics like Oxycodone.”
“We have the finest computer tracking system on the market. It automatically checks against patient allergies and possible complications with other medications that our patients are taking. It will give our physicians a warning if a patient has stayed on a narcotic too long or needs regularly increasing dosage.”
“The actual prescription is computer generated?” I asked.
“Yes. Of course, the physician reviews and signs it. Every prescription for drugs like Oxycodone needs to be signed; phone orders are not accepted.”
“Tell me about your computer network. Is there regular backup at a central location or is information stored on individual hard drives?”
“Our computers are networked. Everything is stored offsite at an EDS center in Tempe. Every keystroke is stored and backed up every night. We have access to six months data online, but it’s kept for ten years. We never know when we’ll need to provide information for those nasty malpractice suits.”
“Remember, our conversation is confidential. The DEA has been investigating Dr. Cantor for excess dosage and irregular Oxycodone prescriptions. They have the paper prescription forms made out to bogus names that were filled in questionable drug stores in south Phoenix. The experts have verified they bear his signature. Do you think there is any chance that he was involved in a drug scam?”
“Oh my God, there is no possible way. Dr. Cantor was the most ethical and caring doctor I’ve ever known. Besides, the Cantors have more money than they could ever spend. The prescriptions were forged.” Her voice broke off as if she had just thought of something.
“If you know something that would clear his name, I’m sure it would be a comfort to his wife and family,” I said.
“It may be slightly irregular, but I think it’s a rather common practice at other clinics too. The physicians sign a few blank prescription forms for the nurse practitioner to issue when they are not available. Amanda Brandt would have them locked in her desk in case of emergency.”
“If she added drug information to the forms in her office, that would be recorded in your data files?” I couldn’t hide the excited tone in my voice.
“Yes sir. Every keystroke will be on the backup even if the message was immediately deleted after it was printed. Amanda and most of the rest of the staff would not realize that. She would expect the delete command to completely erase something; however, it just marks the file so that it no longer shows on her screen.”
“Please do not mention our conversation or do any investigation into old prescription files. You’ll be hearing from Grant Emerson of the DEA soon; he’ll need to get a warrant first.”
When I called Grant, he said he already knew about the attempt on Graham and me. He was very willing to follow up on my suggestion that he get the backup data that would show every computer entry Amanda Brandt made. The Oxycodone case was minor, but the attempt to assassinate two law enforcement officers brings us all together to find the perp.
Grant promised to have the warrant later this afternoon and to contact Mrs. Morrow for her assistance before she left at 5:00. If we were really lucky, we might have something to hold Amanda on later today. He would also get search warrants for the houses of Amanda Brandt and John Nordstrom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I spent the afternoon reviewing Amanda’s financial records while anxiously waiting to hear from Chad about his interviews. Amanda was making an improbable amount of money from her web site, but there was a chance that it was a cover for their drug scheme. Grant Emerson called at 1:30 and said he had received the necessary warrants to retrieve the clinic’s DP records and search Amanda’s and John’s houses. He also got approval to monitor their phones. Agents were on the way to both houses, and they would be there before the Scottsdale police released the three suspects. The warrants would be served before the suspects could enter their homes and have a chance to destroy evidence.
A few minutes later, Chad called and said the interviews were over, and the police hadn’t learned much that was interesting. He would make our 4:00 meeting and update us. Chad had recorded the three half-hour interviews, and he would give those tapes to me to review tonight. The three stories had been so similar that it was likely they had been rehearsed.
I made several other attempts to reach Thane Naresk. If I could verify Joe Banning’s story, I wanted to clear things up at this afternoon’s meeting. I was convinced that Joe’s story about a man who called himself Ethan Kearns was true and that gave Joe an alibi for the time of Dr. Cantor’s murder. It was too unlikely a story for Joe to have concocted; it was supported by both e-mail and phone evidence. I walked out to the reception desk and spoke with Sean. He agreed with me that we should drop the felony assault charges and go for a misdemeanor charge, and I would recommend that at this afternoon’s meeting.
At 3:30, June came through with new information. She entered my office with a smile and seemed comfortable around me for the first time. She had proof that the private jet owned by Mr. Naresk’s insurance company landed at the Flagstaff airport on the Friday evening before the murder and left the following Sunday at 8:00 PM. She had also found Mr. Naresk’s cell phone and unlisted home phone. He answered when I called the cell phone. I explained that I was not involved in enforcement of the Arizona game laws. He was the alibi witness for Joe Banning who was a suspect in a murder early Sunday morning of the same weekend Mr. Naresk was in town.
“I came to Flagstaff for a weekend of hiking, not hunting. Joe was only my hiking guide. He picked me up at 5:00 on Sunday morning at the Little America Motel, and I was with him until he dropped me off at the airport at 7:00 that evening. It was a nice autumn hike.”
Of course it was a lie, but it confirmed Joe’s alibi without Naresk admitting to hunting without an elk tag. Joe Banning was no longer a suspect in Dr. Cantor’s murder as far as I was concerned.
Soon after that call, I was notified that Joe’s Mazda had been located hidden in some trees in the Anderson Mesa area southeast of town. We’d been lucky; the sun was at exactly the right angle to reflect from the windshield while the search plane flew over. The department’s helicopter flew to the location, and the pilot confirmed it was Joe’s Mazda. It had the empty trailer he had borrowed from his sister attached. There was no sign of Joe, but deputies on horseback and the department’s helicopter would begin searching the area tomorrow morning unless we decided to cancel the search this afternoon.
Chad returned from Scottsdale just before the meeting and handed me the recordings of the three interrogations. “You’ll want to use earphones when you listen,” he said with a grin. �
��You won’t want Margaret to hear the graphic details of the alibis.”
“You know she won’t stand for that. She’ll want to know every detail.” I took my pocket recorder and the small tapes to the meeting in case the sheriff wanted to hear them.
Once we had gathered, I asked Sheriff Taylor if it was OK for Sean to join us. If we decided to drop felony charges against Joe, I wanted him to participate.
After he arrived, I began. “I’ve confirmed Joe’s alibi for the time of Dr. Cantor’s murder. A man named Thane Naresk who used the pseudonym of Ethan Kearns verifies he was with Joe all day Sunday beginning at 5:00 in the morning. He claims they were hiking, not hunting elk without a tag.”
“$25,000 for a hiking guide, sure. You and Sean were injured when Joe made a run for it, and he sicced his dogs on you,” the sheriff said. “He needs to do a few years in Florence.”
I looked over at Sean for his reaction and then said, “I fell over when he pushed the table at me; it was no big deal. How about you, Sean?”
“He kicked me in the groin, but I think the dogs were an accident. He left the door open when he ran out, and the mutts thought he was in trouble and tried to protect him. He didn’t actually sic them on me. I would also be OK with a misdemeanor charge.”
“Maybe a plea agreement for six months in the county jail,” I suggested.
“I don’t like it, but I won’t veto it,” the sheriff said. “What about the search?”
“It will cost a lot of money for a misdemeanor charge,” I said. “I suggest we call it off and announce that we have verified Joe’s alibi for Dr. Cantor’s murder. Maybe he’ll hear about it and come in on his own.”
Sheriff Taylor picked up the phone and called his administrative assistant and told her to cancel the search and start on a press release. He turned to Chad and asked, “What did you learn in Scottsdale?”
“Sir, their alibis fit perfectly; they were so close that all of us thought they were rehearsed. The gist of it was that all three were present at Amanda’s house when the police officer arrived, but Trevor was tied up and couldn’t easily come to the door, so John went and claimed to be Trevor.”
“What the hell kind of nonsense is that? Trevor was too tied up to go to the door?” Sheriff Taylor said.
I suspected what was coming from Chad’s grin. “I mean literally tied up. They claim to have the photos to prove it. Amanda has a porno web site, and they all maintain that they were taking photos to add to it. In this scene, Trevor was supposed to be a husband who was bound with duct tape to a pillar and forced to watch as a gardener raped his wife.”
“You are shitting me,” the sheriff said. “What proof did they give for this bizarre claim?”
“They posted the photo on the web page the next morning. I haven’t had a chance to check it yet,” Chad said.
“I have a password for the site. Let’s check,” I said. I went over to the sheriff’s computer and signed on to the porno site. “Did she mention the photo number?”
“They all said it was photo 113. The fact that they all knew the number increased my skepticism about their claim. Trevor said he posted it at 10:30 yesterday morning, but Amanda and John were at work and wouldn’t have known the number.”
The photo was there just as it had been described. Trevor was taped to a pillar in a bedroom, his hand high above his head and his legs firmly bound with silver tape. A rake and other gardening equipment were spread around the room. A dirty coverall was on the floor next to John and Amanda. Directly below the bound Trevor, John was holding a sharp weeding tool to Amanda’s neck. All three of them were nude. To me, it was among the most disgusting photos of all the trash on the site because it was designed to appeal to a perverted rape fantasy.
“How do we know when it was taken? It proves they’re perverts, but it’s no proof of their alibis,” Sheriff Taylor said.
“It may be the opposite. Look at those closed wooden shutters. Isn’t that bright sunlight along his side, just at the edge,” I said pointing to a yellow line on the screen. “We’ll need an enlargement, but I think this was taken in full daylight with the shutters closed, not in the evening when the cop was there.”
We were standing at Sheriff Taylor’s desk looking at the twenty-inch monitor on his credenza when his assistant opened the door. I was showing them some of the other photos on Amanda’s site, strictly as background information, but we were a little boisterous about it. His assistant could clearly see the porno on the monitor.
“Sorry.” She was speechless for a few seconds and then said, “Grant Emerson is on line three. He said you would want to be interrupted.” She quickly shut the door.
CHAPTER FORTY
Grant sounded excited when we got him on the line. After I explained who was present for the meeting, he began. “The raid on Nordstrom’s house in Buckeye uncovered a heroin storehouse. We found twenty kilos of heroin still packaged in the type of containers used in the Afghan heroin market. The bonus was over a million dollars in cash in a safe sunk into the floor of a closet. We even found Oxycodone still in pharmacy bottles from two of the prescriptions signed by Dr. Cantor. It may not prove murder, but John is going to prison for a very long stay. It’s the biggest heroin bust in the southwest this year.”
I explained that two of Trevor’s and John’s Special Forces buddies had stayed in the service. I had not been able to find where they were currently assigned, but I was willing to bet it was Afghanistan. I gave him their names and the APO addresses that June had gotten from the army.
“Is there anything to prove Trevor and Amanda are involved?” Sheriff Taylor asked.
“Unfortunately, we found nothing incriminating at Amanda’s house, and John is not talking. I’ve had them brought in again for more questioning, and we’ll keep them as long as possible. Their lawyer, Gretchen Arthur, was with John when we served the warrant at his house. He probably suspected we might be there when he got home from the Scottsdale Police Station. She’s shrewd. Her specialty is getting drug slime out of trouble, but this time we’ve got John dead to rights. He might be willing to look at a deal to rat out Trevor and Amanda, but currently, Gretchen Arthur represents all three of them.”
“Amanda and John will run if they have a chance. I’ll bet they have a hell of a lot of cash stashed somewhere,” I said.
“We’re still processing fingerprints and trace evidence. We have a team assigned to the clinic’s DP files. It’s likely to be tomorrow morning before we have results. Mrs. Morrow has been very helpful at pointing us to the right files.”
I thanked Grant for the update and congratulated him on the bust.
“We didn’t have a clue about John Nordstrom’s heroin business until you brought him up. I was ready to drop the Oxycodone case when Dr. Cantor died. I owe you big time, Mike.”
“Grant, our first priority is finding the murderer of Doctor Cantor,” I said. “We have a colleague in the ICP and who may not make it. I think John is a murderer who also tried to kill both a fine young deputy and me.”
“I understand. The DEA will deal on the drug charges if it gives us a murderer.”
We continued to discuss the case for half an hour, but there was nothing to be done on our end. We decided to meet again at 8:30 in the morning with Grant providing an update by phone.
Chad drove us back to Sedona on 89A directly past the site where Graham and I were shot. Graham had been flown to the Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix last night without regaining consciousness. The sniper shot had driven bone fragments into his brain. Now that he was stable, the neurosurgeons would do a four hour surgery this evening.
The guardrail had been replaced. Only the shiny new section provided a clue that it was where we had been shot. Chad pulled over and parked a hundred feet down the road, and we walked back and looked over the guardrail into Oak Creek.
“I sat right across from Trevor Joyce for half an hour today. Not strangling him with my bare hands was one of the hardest things I’ve
ever done. He was so goddamn cocky. He bragged about his medals and about his ten years of service to his country. You’ll hear it on the tapes; he’s convinced we’ll never convict him. He killed a lot of people while in the service, and this was just one more sniper job for him. I sensed no trace of remorse. I wanted to stomp his face in.”
Chad and I were partners for over two years. This was one of the few times he had ever expressed his own emotions. It was just not something we did.
“He’s wrong. We’ll get him, and his military service will be no justification for heroin smuggling and a cold-blooded murder.” I was certain.
Chad shook his head. “He’ll be tough to convict. He’s a handsome war hero with a purple heart, two bronze stars, and a silver star. A jury will have a difficult time accepting that he went from hero to murderer within a year. In other circumstances I would admire him. He served in the war, and I didn’t.”
“If he was the shooter, I’ll bet John will rat him out to avoid the needle himself. Amanda is the one that will be difficult to convict. I think she put him up to it, but all we’re likely to have against her is the Oxycodone charge.”
“She was the coolest under pressure of anyone I’ve ever seen interrogated,” Chad said.
The light was reflecting from the canyon wall, providing a shadowy view into the creek’s clear water. A trout went after an insect and then disappeared again. We watched the creek a minute and returned to the car. Chad didn’t say anything until we reached my house. “I’ll pick you up at 7:15.” The time for discussing our feelings was past.
Margaret was still in comfort food mode when I got home. An apple pie was baking and a pot roast was on the stove. My back had hardly bothered me all day, and the seatbelt bruises were healing fine, but I saw no reason to discourage Margaret’s efforts to ease my suffering. After a delicious dinner, we had apple pie and decaf coffee on the deck and watched the moon rise over Munds Mountain. I told Margaret about the developments in the case, and of course, she wanted to hear all three interrogation tapes.
The Dead Man at Doyle Saddle Page 18
