Once he was down the hill, I took the rifle away from him and said, “Joe, We’ll need to process you at the Law Enforcement Building, but you can make bail, probably with a lot less than you have in that bag, and be out this evening.”
“You must clear all of the junk you carted up this hill out of the Turkey Fort. It’s an important Indian site,” Alan said. “I’m issuing you a ticket for illegal camping.”
“I understand. I’m sorry; I was careful not to disturb anything. I’ll have my cousins and brothers help me clean it out tomorrow. I promise there will be no trace I was up there when we’re through,” he said.
Alan took us back to where Chad’s Explorer was parked with Chad and Joe riding in the truck bed on the dusty road until we reached Chad’s vehicle.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Once we were in the Explorer, Chad put his cell phone into the speaker cradle and called Sheriff Taylor to let him know we were bringing in Joe Banning.
“Good work, guys. I have some other good news. Amanda and Trevor are on a jail bus headed for Flagstaff. Gretchen Arthur has resigned as their attorney. She thinks she can get a quick deal for John, pocket her big paycheck, and move on to the next scumbag.”
“What kind of deal are they talking about for John?” I didn’t think he was the shooter, but I suspected he knew of the plan to kill Dr. Cantor to stop the Oxycodone investigation.
“Grant mentioned witness protection. He wants to roll up the whole distribution network, all the way back to Afghanistan and down to the street dealers. John gets a new life after the trials, but only if he rats out Trevor and Amanda as well as everyone else in the distribution network.”
I said I was very willing to accept the tradeoff if it convicted Amanda and Trevor of murder and attempted murder.
Sheriff Taylor continued his update. “Trevor’s fingerprints are in John’s house but not on the actual drug containers. They are working on DNA trace evidence. Grant is convinced that Amanda and Trevor were John’s partners in the heroin distribution network, but he hasn’t found their money. His theory is that they used the porno site revenue to get started as heroin distributors. His agents found a safe deposit key in Amanda’s desk at the clinic. They’re tracing it now.”
“Excellent, I’ll bet it holds her share of the cash,” I said.
“There’s one more piece of the deal,” Sheriff Taylor said. I could hear the note of distaste in his tone. “Grant wants to be recognized for solving Dr. Cantor’s murder through the deal he’s making with John. He wants to be present to receive that public recognition at any press conference we hold here in Coconino County.”
“I want the killers; I don’t give a damn who gets the credit,” I said.
“I’m not so generous, but after a prolonged argument, I agreed. Grant has us by the short hairs because only he can produce John to testify at our murder trials. Needless to say, my opinion of Grant and the DEA is not very high. I may take some political retaliation after this is over.”
I would not want Sheriff Greg Taylor as my political enemy; he has many close friends in both parties at the state level.
Joe listened to the conversation without comment. He appeared to be lost in thought about his own problems. Even though he would avoid a prolonged jail stay, his days of being a hunting guide in Arizona were over. We returned to town, stopping at a fast food place for takeout. Joe seemed especially pleased at the chance to enjoy a burger and fries before being processed.
When we got to the law enforcement building, Joe asked to see Sean and apologize. I took him to the front desk where Sean was still assigned, and they talked for a few minutes. Joe explained that he just panicked and wanted to run like a frightened doe. He attempted to kick Sean off his feet before he could reach his pistol, but he missed his stomach and got him with a low blow. After the discussion and the booking, we took Joe over to the jail for a shower before his bail hearing.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
At 2:15, I made a lucky call. The owner, Mr. Gerhard, answered the Apache Junction Bargain Rental Agency’s phone. Apache Junction is a town in the extreme eastern part of the Phoenix metro area that is known for having dozens of mobile home and RV parks that are popular with snowbirds and retirees. I explained that I was checking for a car rented the weekend before last by Amanda Brandt, a striking beauty who reminded me of Elizabeth Taylor at her prime.
“How could I forget her? I nearly gasped when she came in; she was like a dream fantasy. My wife and I own this small agency. We mostly rent to senior citizens who arrive in Apache Junction in large RV’s. Miss Brandt really made my day; in fact, my wife accused me of giving her too good of a deal.”
“How did she pay for the vehicle?”
“That was unusual. She used a credit card when she took the car, but she paid in cash when she returned it. Of course, we only rent to people with credit cards and valid licenses.”
“Was Miss Brandt alone?”
“No sir. I didn’t see him clearly because he stayed in the Lexus he was driving, but she arrived with a young man.”
“What model did she rent?”
Mr. Gerhard spent a few seconds looking it up. “A light blue 2013 Ford Taurus, she put about four hundred miles on it.”
“I’d be happy to fax a copy of the rental agreement on the Ford signed by Amanda Brandt. Do you want the agreement for the Mazda she rented on Monday? She returned it yesterday morning.”
I thanked him and called Chad with the information. He and Sheriff Taylor would work together on both interrogations. A representative of the district attorney’s office and, if they requested it, a public defender or a private attorney, would also be present. The sessions would be video recorded in a room with a one-way mirror behind which I could watch.
Chad seemed excited by having a copy of the actual rental agreements to spring on Amanda. It was fairly strong evidence of her direct involvement. First, we would have the lineup where Mr. Patel had a chance to identify Trevor. They planned to talk with Amanda next and try and get her to turn on Trevor, but that was a long shot. We were really counting on Grant getting John Nordstrom to testify against both of them in return for immunity and witness protection.
At 2:30, Chad and I walked out to the prisoner entrance to watch the Maricopa County Jail bus arrive. Everyone in the Law Enforcement Building knew that Amanda and Trevor were suspects in the sniper attacks on fellow officers, and a substantial crowd had gathered. The hostility was palpable.
The suspects were in the black and ten striped uniforms with pink underclothes favored by the sheriff of Maricopa County. Amanda emerged first, her hands and legs in chains. Four deputies surrounded her, partly to make certain that she was not assaulted by someone in the angry crowd, but also for the intimidation impact of being treated as a dangerous murder suspect.
Amanda stared at me as she shuffled past, displaying her dignity with her head held high and a placid expression on her face. It was a good thing she didn’t smile; I might have lost my composure in front of the crowd. There are very few suspects that I have truly hated from a personal standpoint in my career. This haughty bitch was one.
Even after spending the night in jail and without makeup, Amanda was a striking beauty. I wondered what a jury would think of her. I was certain she was guilty, but convicting her might be damn difficult.
A couple of minutes later, the four guards returned to the bus for Trevor. He looked slightly silly in the pink shirt and striped pants. He almost fell as he got off the bus, and the deputies had to steady him. The crowd who had gathered to watch laughed, and he muttered a string of obscenities and struggled a little with the four men who surrounded him.
Among the escort group was one of the deputies who had recovered Dr. Cantor’s body at Doyle Saddle. I heard him say, “Trevor, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You will not like the hard way.”
Trevor’s rage faded, and he cooperated from then on. The laughter had bothered him; he wanted to appear stoic an
d tough. As he approached, Trevor glared at me, but his face was not intimidating because his eyes had a hollow, pained look. He was a scared and demoralized prisoner held on a murder charge, and he couldn’t pull off the tough guy act now.
As he shuffled past, he growled, “You’ll regret this,” followed by an ugly obscenity about my mother.
“You killed Doctor Cantor with premeditation; your execution is inevitable.” I returned his glare, but I was not at all sure he would get capital punishment even if convicted. His army career and impressive medals would probably get him off with life. Chad could see my clinched fist and put his hand on my shoulder to restrain me from slugging him, but I was under control. Twenty years ago, I would have punched him for that comment in spite of two dozen witnesses.
Once in the building, Trevor, who was unemployed, was offered the help of a public defender. He accepted. Amanda was no indigent so she was given a list of criminal attorneys in Flagstaff who said they could be available this afternoon. She chose the first name on the list. Each would have at least an hour to confer with their attorneys before the interrogations began. The arrangement was partly to ensure that they had separate representation in case one wanted to rat on the other. They had been given no chance to speak with each other since they were picked up yesterday.
Sheriff Taylor, Chad, and I joined Mr. Patel behind the one-way glass for the identification. Trevor was brought into the line-up room with six deputies of similar size. Three of the deputies in the line-up had been to the barber to get haircuts to match Trevor’s crew cut. Trevor and the six deputies were dressed in the coveralls of the Coconino County jail since we could not match the one he arrived in.
Mr. Patel was confident and positive of his identification as soon as Trevor walked in, but we went through the formalities of having each man take a step forward and say, “My name is Adam Smith.” Mr. Patel did not need to hear his voice to be certain, but having Trevor say the false identity was intended to shake him up. It let him know we could prove he was in Flagstaff at the time of Dr. Cantor’s murder.
Mr. Patel would make a persuasive witness. He was certain that Trevor Joyce had registered as Adam Smith at Mountain View Motel on the Saturday before Dr. Cantor’s murder. Trevor had left before the office opened at 5:00 AM, depositing his key in the early checkout box. That early departure gave him time to reach Doyle Saddle before Dr. Cantor.
Of course, Trevor was not in handcuffs during the lineup. When the men were told to turn and walk from the room, Trevor made a run for it. He probably didn’t realize that every other man in the room was a Coconino County deputy and colleague of Graham Freemont who was still in a coma. They tackled him in a crunching pileup like an NFL defense might inflict on a cocky high school halfback. I wondered if Trevor would suffocate before they got off the pile, but by the time I reached him, there were only a couple of guys still on top.
“That was another mistake Trevor,” I said as I put handcuffs on him. He repeated the previous obscenity about my mother, but I didn’t hit him. I just tightened the handcuff another three notches.
The session in the lineup room was video recorded, so there would be evidence that Trevor instigated the problem by trying to bolt. We couldn’t afford to give him any police brutality grounds that might help a future appeal.
Soon after the lineup, Grant called. I wondered if he chose to call me because he assumed that I was unaware of his last conversation with Sheriff Taylor where he insisted on the credit for the murder arrests. In any case, I added Sheriff Taylor and Chad to the call. I have no patience for playing political games during a murder case.
The DEA agent explained that they had found that Amanda’s safe deposit key was from a Bank of America Branch on Scottsdale Road, not far from her house. He would have a warrant to search it within the hour. He also said the negotiations with John Nordstrom were going well. His attorney was currently reviewing their plea agreement.
“We’re dealing with a major heroin import network run by army personnel stationed in south Asia. They ship the dope into the US through Fort Huachuca near Sierra Vista, and John picks it up in his delivery truck during his regular weekly run to that part of the state.”
“Can John give you the whole network?” I asked.
“He hasn’t named any names yet, but it looks like he can.”
“What about Trevor and Amanda?” Sheriff Taylor asked.
“They’re both in it up to their eyeballs,” Grant assured us. “He will testify that Amanda discussed both murders in his presence. My assistant is faxing information about Amanda’s Oxycodone scam. It’s very solid proof that she forged the prescriptions. We’ll have her on drug charges for certain, and that information also provides motives for the murder to corroborate John Nordstrom’s testimony.”
John’s credibility would be poor in front of a jury because of the immunity. Combined with Mr. Patel’s ID of Trevor and with proof that Amanda rented the car, it might be enough to convict both of them. However, it would certainly be no slam-dunk.
“Once you get the agreement, would you ask John about something?” I said. “Trevor withdrew $200 a week from Amanda’s RED LIGHT NIGHT business account. He did it at an ATM in the west valley near where John lives. I assumed he was paying Trevor to transport the Oxycodone, but the amount seems too small to make sense now that we know the size of this drug syndicate. Ask if John knows what was going on.”
A few minutes later when the fax began to come in, Sheriff Taylor and Chad entered my office. The FBI experts could prove that Amanda forged the prescriptions. Not only did the Clinic’s network require a password, they could prove that she was sending e-mails and doing other things at almost the same times as the prescriptions were forged. She couldn’t claim someone snuck into her office and used her computer while she was out.
In addition, Amanda was the only person at the clinic to have a stash of signed forms. The search of her desk found a few blank prescription forms signed by each physician at the clinic as well as twenty-five signed forms from Dr. Cantor. We reviewed the information and planned the interrogation strategy while Amanda conferred with her new attorney. Both attorneys would instruct their clients not to say anything, but a good interrogator could often learn something as he brought out each piece of evidence.
A few minutes before the 4:00 interview with Amanda began, Grant called back and reported that John signed the agreement. His men had also opened Amanda’s safe deposit box. It contained a huge amount of cash that they were still counting. It also held two DVD’s that they had not had a chance to play yet.
With John’s testimony, the district attorney was willing to charge Amanda and Trevor with a homicide committed in Coconino County. The charge would make it certain that they did not have a chance to flee while we continued the investigation. There is no chance of bail when you’re charged with premeditated murder. Sheriff Taylor decided to inform the suspects of the homicide charge at the start of each interrogation. Being charged with a capital crime might be enough to shake the cool self-confidence of Amanda Brandt.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Across the table from where I sat behind a one-way mirror were Amanda Brandt and her attorney Cal Bergermann. With their backs to me were the sheriff, Chad, and Emily Sherman of the district attorney’s office. Amanda was handcuffed but without leg restraints. She was still in the pink coveralls of Maricopa County, but I knew she would not be in them much longer. She would not be going back to Phoenix. Amanda would stay in the Coconino County Jail until after her trial when she would be transported to a state prison.
Emily was the first to speak. “Ms. Brandt, I am informing you that the district attorney’s office will seek an indictment for two cases of attempted murder and one homicide with special circumstances — the attempted murders of Captain Mike Damson and Deputy Graham Fremont and the homicide of Doctor Zackary Cantor with special circumstances. These special circumstances include homicide with intent to obstruct justice in an ongoing crimin
al investigation. In addition, federal and state drug indictments are likely under RICO statutes.”
For the first time since I met her at Dr. Cantor’s autopsy, Amanda showed some trace of emotion. Her face flickered with horror before returning to nonchalance.
“Jesus H. Christ, Emily, I thought this was a prescription drug case. I’d like to postpone this meeting for a few days.” Cal was a young criminal attorney. I doubted that he had ever been involved in a capital case because they were so rare in Flagstaff.
“I suggest that you confer privately for fifteen minutes before we resume,” Sheriff Taylor said and stood up. “You can use conference room three.” He went to the door and got the two deputies who were posted outside to escort them.
I joined the others in the interrogation room and shook hands with Emily.
“It was fun to deliver that line and shake her up a little,” she said. “However, I should warn you that even though my boss is totally behind the death penalty in Dr. Cantor’s murder, we wouldn’t convict this woman on the evidence you’ve shown me. John Nordstrom’s testimony will not be enough.”
“What else do you need?” Chad asked.
“You can prove Trevor was in Flagstaff at the time of the Cantor murder; he had both motive and opportunity. However, unless he turns on her, murder one will be nearly impossible for Amanda. The rental cars might get her on an accessory to homicide, but we need to prove she actively conspired with Trevor to get murder one.”
“I don’t think he’ll ever turn on her; he’s too much under her thumb,” I said.
We talked about the evidence until notified that Amanda was returning. I resumed my place behind the window.
Cal Bergermann did the talking again when they sat down. Amanda’s composure had returned, as had her perfect poker face. “My client categorically denies any involvement in the murder of Dr. Cantor, a man she loved and respected. She has never even heard of Graham Freemont and knows nothing of his or Captain Damson’s shooting. She has no involvement in illicit drugs; she’s a nurse and is only involved in the medicinal use of drugs.”
The Dead Man at Doyle Saddle Page 20
