The Dead Man at Doyle Saddle

by Charles Williamson

  Step by step, Chad produced the evidence in the Oxycodone case. He presented it first to show the motive for Dr. Cantor’s murder. It was so solid that Amanda said little; she had had no time to invent a credible explanation. Cal asked a few questions but could not refute any of the prescription fraud evidence.

  Next, Chad pulled out Margaret’s handwritten list and asked follow-up questions about Amanda’s alibi for Trevor the evening of the attempt to assassinate Graham and me. Chad tripped Amanda up a dozen times including showing an eight by ten version of the photo from her web page, pointing out that experts were willing to testify that it was taken in broad daylight. Amanda’s face didn’t show she was rattled, but she clenched her hands into tight fists at times and fidgeted in her chair. After nearly an hour, Cal asked for another chance to confer with his client.

  While they were in the conference room, I received a message to call Grant. His agents had counted the money; there was $2,122,840 in cash in Amanda’s safe deposit box. The two DVD’s showed explicit sex between Amanda and two different middle-aged men. The men had not yet been identified, but Grant guessed they were military from their haircuts and sexual interests. The scenes simulated Amanda as a recruit being seduced by her company commander. The videos were filmed in Amanda’s bedroom from a single wide angle point. It had the look of a hidden camera, and Grant suspected they were part of a blackmail scheme. I passed the information to Sheriff Taylor before Amanda and her attorney returned.

  “$2,122,840 in cash and two blackmail video tapes,” Sheriff Taylor said when Cal and Amanda were seated again.

  Cal looked baffled, but Amanda reacted. She screeched a string of merchant marine cusswords and attempted to stick her fingernails into the sheriff’s eyes. Sheriff Taylor is a strong man; he grasped her wrists and easily held her hands away from his face.

  “You have no right to get in my box,” she screamed.

  Poor Cal Bergermann looked baffled, clearly misunderstanding Amanda’s comment. He stood and tried to get Amanda to return to her chair. When they heard the disturbance, two deputies entered. At the sheriff’s direction, they handcuffed Amanda’s hands to her chair before the interrogation continued.

  During the next fifteen minutes, Chad continued to ask questions, but Amanda uttered not a single sound. Although a witness was mentioned, Chad never referred to John by name, deliberately leaving Amanda to wonder if Trevor might have betrayed her. Finally, Cal said, “My client is clearly distressed. I suggest it would be more productive for me to confer with her this evening and come by the DA’s office in the morning. We may be able to work something out.”

  “That’s a good idea, Cal,” Emily said.

  When the deputies led Amanda from the room in handcuffs, her composure broke. She was sobbing as she was led away. The last thing I heard from the departing group was Cal saying, “Anything you tell me is privileged, but I can’t help much if I’m constantly blindsided.

  Before bringing Trevor in, we called Grant for an update on his interview with John Nordstrom. I introduced Emily and mentioned that Chad and Sheriff Taylor were also in the room.

  “We’ll make ten additional arrests before morning. Three are soldiers stationed in Kabul, two air force officers stationed in San Angelo, three men in Sierra Vista, and two civilians in Los Angeles. There are four Afghan civilians that the local authorities will pick up at the same time. There may be a dozen more before we’re finished.”

  “Are two of the guys in Afghanistan former high school buddies of Trevor and John?” I asked.

  “Your guess is right, Mike. The third is an air force officer they recruited to help with the shipments. The supply side of the network is all military once the heroin gets to Kabul.”

  “How did all of these guys get recruited?” Sheriff Taylor asked.

  “Sex and greed. Amanda designed the whole network and used sexual favors, blackmail, and money to hold things together. She is the queen bee and these guys are her drones according to John. He claims that Trevor is totally under her control, almost her slave.”

  “He seems like a tough guy with a strong will to me,” I said.

  “Let me give you a couple of examples,” Grant said. “The two hundred dollars a week is the limit that Amanda placed on Trevor for his personal heroin use. He injects it into cigarettes and smokes them, a habit he developed in Afghanistan. In fact, failing two random drug tests was the reason for his discharge from the Army. Amanda controls every dollar he spends to keep his usage under control.”

  “Convicting Amanda on the homicide charges is our most difficult legal challenge,” Emily said. “The control over his drug use would just make her look sympathetic.”

  “The second example might work better. John claims that they needed the help of a specific supply master sergeant at Fort Huachuca. He was divorced and about three years from retirement. Amanda tried to seduce him, but he wasn’t interested, so John was assigned to follow him every evening. He tracked him to a gay leather bar on Washington Street in Phoenix. Amanda made Trevor go to the bar and pick him up. Trevor brought him to Amanda’s house where the bedroom is rigged with a hidden camera. Amanda recorded the bisexual sergeant having his way with Trevor, who is 100% straight, in order to blackmail the guy into helping with the heroin distribution. The guy has three kids; with the recording, they had him under their control.”

  “If Amanda is the queen bee, no deal for a lesser charge is possible,” Sheriff Taylor said to Emily.

  “I’m sure the DA will agree,” she said. “Do we try a deal with Trevor? She’ll be difficult to convict on the homicides without his help.”

  “Let’s bring him in now and see how he reacts,” the sheriff replied.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  I returned to my place behind the one-way mirror. Trevor entered in handcuffs followed by his public defender, Jeanie Mur. He also had leg restraints. Because of his earlier attempt to flee, four deputies accompanied him and waited outside the door.

  Ms. Mur looked unhappy and spoke first, “Emily, I have not had a chance to confer with my client, but I have advised him not to say anything at this time.”

  “You’ve been together two hours to confer. We’re going ahead with this interview,” Emily said. In a small town like Flagstaff, they had certainly opposed each other in many previous trials. There was residual friction in the air.

  “We’ve been locked in the same room for two hours, but my client hasn’t spoken a single word. I was beginning to wonder if he was deaf and dumb. It is unlikely that this interview with my taciturn client will be productive,” Ms. Mur replied. She had been assigned to represent a man charged with a premeditated murder, probably the biggest case in her short career. The guy wouldn’t say a single word to her. I understood her frustration.

  Emily proceeded by repeating the charges in the same way she opened the interview with Amanda. Trevor sat staring at the mirror behind which I watched. I knew he couldn’t see me, but somehow his eyes were on the exact spot where I stood.

  Chad took out Margaret’s list and began with questions related to the interview with the Scottsdale police. Trevor did not even acknowledge Chad’s presence; he continued to stare at my location, even though he could not see me. I sensed he truly hated me. Although I thought he was a disgusting murderer and heroin importer, I didn’t feel the visceral hatred that was my response to Amanda Brandt’s cold and beautiful visage. My reaction to her was like finding a rattlesnake in my bathroom.

  Sheriff Taylor tried some questions. He never outright lied, but his questions implied that Amanda had turned state’s witness and told us everything. He still didn’t react. Sheriff Taylor is not a man of infinite patience. I could tell he was losing it when Emily broke into the one-sided interview to ask some questions. It gave the sheriff a break to compose himself.

  After only twenty-five minutes, it looked like interviewing Trevor was a total waste of time, but I noticed something in his staring eyes; he was in heroin withdrawal. His han
ds were also shaking slightly where they rested on his lap out of sight of those in the room. There was sweat on his forehead in a cool room.

  This man had committed murder, and Chad was also having trouble controlling his temper at Trevor’s total silence. After a series of questions designed to convince Trevor that we had an ironclad case, he finally said something that got the attention of the drug-deprived ex-soldier.

  “Trevor, I know Amanda pushed you into these murders, just like she made you dress in leather and have sex with that master sergeant from Fort Huachuca. At least you won’t be a jail virgin when you get to prison.”

  For a second, Trevor’s eyes focused on Chad, but his expression showed nothing. Before anyone could react, Trevor overturned the table pinning Chad and Sheriff Taylor in their chairs beneath it. Emily narrowly escaped being immobilized as her chair overturned sideways.

  Trevor had his handcuffed fists on Chad’s throat when I got to him. I smashed my pistol butt into the back of the murdering scumbag’s head. No one important was seriously hurt in the melee. Chad would have bruises on his neck for a few days and the Sheriff would have an ugly bruise where the table had smashed against his chest.

  Trevor, on the other hand, was taken to the Flagstaff Medical Center unconscious but with an escort of six deputies. There would be a lot of questions if he died, but at least the county would save money on the trial and the state on the incarceration and execution.

  After Trevor was wheeled away on a gurney, we put the table upright and sat down.

  “I’m having this goddamn table bolted to the goddamn floor,” Sheriff Taylor said.

  No one had a response for that. After a pause, Jeanie asked, “You record everything in this room don’t you sheriff?”

  “Hell yes, we have a no-brainer on attempted murder. The drug charges and the homicide case are strong. I’m going down to Florence to watch when he gets the needle in a few years.”

  “Frankly, I’m afraid to be alone with my client,” Jeanie said. “Emily, can we work something out to have a couple of deputies present when I meet with him and still retain attorney client privilege.”

  “I’ll draw up something that extends confidentiality to whoever the sheriff suggests, but every law enforcement officer in northern Arizona will want this bastard to fry. He tried to assassinate Captain Damson and Deputy Fremont. Graham Fremont is still in critical condition. Maybe the county will pay for a couple of private security guards to be present whenever you meet. We can talk with Judge Levin and work this out in the morning. I wouldn’t want to be alone with him either.”

  As Jeanie left, I noticed that her hands were shaking. I suspect that she would ask her boss to assign someone else to this case, probably a man. Emily suggested that we call Grant Emerson and see if there was anything new from his witness before calling it a day.

  “These people are real scum. They were trying to kill Mike to cover up the connection between the prescription abuse and Dr. Cantor’s murder. Amanda was convinced that Mike was not going to let Mathew Andrews take the fall on the Cantor murder. She figured that with Mike and Sean out of the way, the investigation would end either with Mathew Andrews or Joe Banning. She slipped up because she didn’t know that Mathew was still in jail in Flagstaff, but she was smart enough to rent a blue Mazda. If it were spotted, it would focus attention on Joe. She had seen the information about Joe’s car on the Flagstaff newspaper’s web site. John claims everything was Amanda’s idea. She bragged about it when they were screwing in her bedroom while her lackey boyfriend, Trevor, was waiting in ambush for Mike in Oak Creek Canyon.”

  He updated us on all of his new information, but there was nothing else tangible we could use against Amanda in the homicide charges. I suggested an 8:00 AM conference to discuss the case; the DEA planned to spend the whole night talking with John. It was important to get all of the drug distribution syndicate members before they became aware of the arrest and fled.

  As we drove home, Chad and I tried to come up with a new investigation strategy that would improve our conviction chances for Amanda. We failed. The proof was in private conversations between John, Trevor, and Amanda. It would be a “he said — she said” case. Trevor was likely to maintain his complete silence, and Amanda would make a credible and articulate witness if she testified in her own defense.

  Margaret had made a wonderfully fragrant Spanish pork roast on a bed of saffron rice for dinner. We enjoyed it on the deck while watching the sunset. It was cool enough to need the patio heater, but pleasant to be outside now that the sniper was in custody. After the flan, I updated Margaret on the day’s events. She had shown unusual patience to wait until after dinner.

  She listened attentively without comment until she asked, “What happened to the DVD recordings of this supply sergeant and Trevor? It was significant blackmail evidence that Amanda would certainly keep. It wasn’t in her safe deposit box.”

  I didn’t know; the subject had not come up.

  “Didn’t you tell me that RED LIGHT NIGHT was receiving payments from other companies?” she asked.

  “Yes; there were some companies I couldn’t identify that made direct deposits to her account on a regular basis of various amounts.”

  “I suspect she was selling porno DVDs in addition to the still photos on her web page. If she had a hidden video camera in her bedroom, I think there should be a lot more than the two tapes found in her safe deposit box.”

  “She is not a woman to pass up making an easy buck,” I said. “How would those tapes help?”

  “John claims they discussed the murders while enjoying each other’s company the night Trevor was waiting for you in Oak Creek Canyon.”

  I called Grant, and he agreed to send someone back to Amanda’s house for a more thorough search, looking specifically for more tapes.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  When Chad arrived the next morning, I noticed two ugly gray-yellow bruises on either side of his larynx. “Those are some ugly hickeys,” I kidded.

  “I was so pissed at letting Trevor get to me that I didn’t thank you yesterday. I was losing consciousness when you clubbed him.”

  “He spent ten years in the Special Forces and has a chest full of medals. He’s an extraordinarily dangerous man. He might have gone after any of us. The sheriff was right; the table should have been bolted to the floor.” The attack had hurt Chad’s pride. He’s in his early thirties, a former NAU Lumberjack football player who keeps himself in top shape.

  As we headed down the corridor to the meeting in Sheriff Taylor’s office, we walked past the interview room. A workman was bolting the table to the concrete floor.

  The phone rang promptly at 8:00, and a drowsy sounding Grant Emerson was on the line. “It’s been a long night, but I have some good news. We’re rolling up this distribution network, and there are other suspects willing to talk. We’ve broken the largest heroin network in the western United States.”

  “Did you find any more recordings?” I asked.

  “Yes, Mike, you were right on target with your suggestion last night. We had another look at Amanda Brandt’s house searching for DVD’s recorded by her hidden bedroom camera. She had a raised area on her closet floor for shoes with a secret access catch. We found twenty-seven tapes of her sexual escapades. We’ve only watched parts of each tape, but I’ve recognized some of her guests in a few of them. In one specific stack, she seems to favor politicians, judges, and assistant district attorneys. The unusual tastes of the mayor of a Phoenix suburb are displayed in great detail, and there is even one man from my own office who has a hell of a lot of explaining to do. We don’t know that she has actually used these tapes for blackmail; they might be insurance against future problems. The other tapes seem to be staged for the porno market – bizarre fantasies, that sort of thing. All of them show Amanda, and most of them use Trevor, John, and some of their army friends as participants.”

  “Is any of this relevant to the homicide cases?” Emily asked.
>
  “That’s the good news. She had a recording of her night with John, the same night that Trevor tried to kill Mike and Graham. They discussed the need to kill Dr. Cantor and Mike. John had been against both murders, but Amanda overruled him. In the tape, John discourages her from having Trevor try to kill law enforcement officers, but she is adamant about not letting anyone disrupt their drug network.”

  “We’ve got her,” Sheriff Taylor said with a smile. Chad and I were grinning too.

  “I can’t imagine better evidence; this tape is conclusive proof she conspired to commit murder. She convicts herself. We kept a careful chain of custody so it will be admissible evidence. She’s toast. The woman was extremely stupid to record her night with John, and even more stupid to not destroy the tape before she was picked up. Her arrest must have come as a complete surprise.”

  “She might have made it to keep John under her thumb. Trevor would probably kill him if he ever saw his best friend with his girl while he was out committing a couple of murders for her,” Chad said.

  I was not so sure; I knew that Trevor had been in many threesomes with Amanda. I suspected she wanted proof that John was implicated in the murders in case he got out of line. By discussing it on tape before Graham and I were actually shot, she had proof that he was aware of the attempted murders ahead of time and did nothing to stop them. If John had not struck his plea agreement, we would have also charged him with the attempted murder too.

  I understood love; I’ve been in love continuously for over thirty years. However, I didn’t understand Trevor’s total obsession with Amanda and his willingness to be led by her. I did understand Amanda; to her sex was merely a control tool, which she used on any man she wanted to influence. She was a high class whore — maybe not even a high class one at that.