Pleasant Harbor

by Thomas Bloom

  “Now let’s go in the pro shop. I want to show you a picture.”

  A picture hung on wall of the pro shop showing a golfer with his back to the camera. “Believe it or not you can learn a lot from this picture. Do either of you know who this is?” Both boys shook their heads.

  “This is a shot of Sam Snead, one of the greatest golfers that ever played the game. First, look at his toes and then imagine a line drawn to cross the tips of both toes toward the green. You will see that that line points straight at the pin. Second, his chest is facing the green meaning that he has rotated completely through his swing. Third, the club is behind his back. He took a full swing and followed through. Finally, his right foot is almost completely off the ground with just his toe touching. He has transferred his entire weight to his left foot. One more thing. He did not swing hard. This looks like about a one-hundred fifty yard shot to the green. He probably hit an eight iron. For every shot he used exactly the same swing. What changed was his choice of clubs. The lower the club number the greater the distance. What he did not do is swing harder if he wanted more distance.”

  When Dusty brought the boys home Amanda’s car was in the drive. He walked the boys to the front door and knocked. Amanda opened the door and said “please come in. I want to hear how it went.” He had never been in her home before. It was neat and clean with basic but well-kept furniture. He could smell the odor of something cooking in the kitchen.

  “Well it’s hard to say anything about a first lesson. They both did fine but we have a long way to go. Remember the longest journey begins with a single step. We’ve got a few more weeks to work at the range and I want to take them out on a regular round at least once before winter sets in.”

  “Great,” Amanda said. “I’ve got a big pot of beef stew going in the kitchen. Would you like to stay for dinner? There’s plenty.”

  “That would be super. I’m sure it beats my cooking.”

  After they sat down for dinner with large bowls of steaming stew Amanda asked “so what’s next with this golf thing? Do you think they can learn to play well enough to matter?”

  “Listen up boys. I’m talking to your mother but I’m talking to you too. There is absolutely no reason you cannot learn to play this game as well as anyone. But what it will take is hundreds of hours on the range and on the course. You already have the idea that it’s technique and not strength. Neither of you are big for your age but you’re big enough to hit the ball. One of the greatest golfers to ever play the game was named Gary Player. He was from South Africa and won many tournaments in South Africa, Europe and the United States. He was a little guy. I would guess no more than one hundred and fifty pounds and about five ten. He once said that he thought he had hit at least one million shots on the practice range. If Gary can do it so can you. One other thing. I read a book recently that analyzed people who were very good and very successful at what they did. People like Bill Gates who founded Microsoft and the Beatles who were a fantastically successful musical group. The author had a ten thousand hour rule. People who get very good at something spend that amount of time learning it and practicing it. Keep that in mind when you get discouraged. Ten thousand hours is a lot of time.

  “One other thing to keep in mind mom. Every university of any size has a golf team and they get to pass out scholarships just like the football, baseball and basketball teams. A little known fact is that golf scholarships at smaller schools go begging. There are lots of major sports applicants but not so many for golf. But a free ride is a free ride. It’s worth thinking about.”

  “I never thought about that. But you still have to be a pretty good player to get a scholarship anywhere, right?”

  “That’s true. But if we want to go for that we have many years to work on it. It’s up to the boys. They have to develop a love of the game and be willing to spend a lot of time on it. Most young golfers are children of country club members. They’re called country club brats. But they start playing young and get all the lessons they need. They play with their parents and learn the protocol of the game very young. By the time they are in their mid-teens they are probably playing on their high school team and working on the finer points of their game. That puts them far ahead of someone starting from scratch later in life. We can’t do the country club thing but we can work with them enough to give them a chance of making the high school team. What do you think boys?”

  The two young men looked at each other, then at their mother and then at Dusty. “If I could learn to play a sport really well and make a high school team that would be super,” Elliott said.

  “Me too,” Bill echoed.

  “Okay, we’ll talk about it more as we go along. Tomorrow afternoon, same time, same place.” Both boys nodded.

  Dusty turned to Amanda. “Thanks so much for dinner. It was delicious. Remember we have another session with Ed and Roberto tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you so much for your time and interest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  “I’m going to try some reverse psychology on him this morning,” Zitweiller announced as the three of them sat in Amanda’s office. “The only leverage we have on him is the fact that he wants to stay in jail. Exactly the opposite of the normal criminal. Let’s see what happens if we tell him he may have to leave.”

  After they had set up the equipment Roberto was escorted into the examination room.

  Zitweiller waited until he was seated and cuffed. “Good morning Roberto. Is everything all right with you? Do you need anything? Are you getting enough to eat?”

  “Everything okay. Would like a bible to read.”

  “I’m sure we can manage that Roberto. But tell me, we know enough about you to know you were not a church goer before you got here. Why do you want a bible now?”

  “Now good time to read bible.”

  “Let me talk to you about our situation Roberto. Normally the people in jail are ones that the police have picked up and charged with a crime because there is cause to believe that they have committed that crime. Our problem with you is that we have absolutely no evidence that you have committed the crime you have confessed to. We cannot hold you indefinitely without some evidence. It is very important that you tell us enough about what happened between you and these two women so that we have some reason to believe that you actually committed the crime. I mean some reason to believe that you are guilty of killing them. Otherwise we will have to release you.”

  “No. I should stay here. I find these women and take them to place in woods. I cut off heads and then put body in river.”

  “Why did you cut off their heads Roberto? What did you do with them after you cut them off? Can you take us to this place in the woods? How did you cut their heads off?”

  “Voice tell me to do this. Not the same place. Different place each time. Don’t remember exactly where. I use machete. Just leave heads there. I don’t remember everything about this.”

  “Look Roberto, this gives us no evidence. We have to have a crime scene Roberto. We have to have some evidence.”

  “This all I can tell you now. I no feel good. Can I go now?”

  “Alright Roberto. You can go now but I have to meet with Sheriff Donavan and Chief Stevens and tell them we have no evidence. It will be up to them if we keep you any longer or release you. The only reason you have been here this long is that we did not arrest you or charge you with a crime. If we had then the law says we have to take you before a judge in a certain number of days and charge you with a crime. In effect, we’ve just let you stay here as a guest. We can’t take you before a judge because we have no evidence to charge you with. Think about this Roberto and give us some information or we may have to send you home.”

  The three of them met in Amanda’s office again. “He still gives us nothing,” Zitweiller said. “Let’s give him another day or two to think about it. If he still doesn’t come around then I think you’ve got to let him go or arrest him and charge him.
But you have no evidence. I think you need to meet with the DA and get a feel if he will even accept this case. If I were a prosecutor I would not want to walk into court with what we have so far.”

  “Good idea,” Dusty said. ‘I’ll try and set up a meeting for tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Helen Wilshire opened her front door to the ring. She was faced by a man holding a large package and a clipboard. His jacket said he worked for O’Brien’s Delivery Service. Never heard of them she thought.

  “I have a delivery for you Ms. Wilshire. I just need your signature.”

  “I haven’t ordered anything. Who’s it from?”

  “Let’s see. The label says L. Peterson, Chicago, Illinois.”

  “That’s my sister. What could she be sending? I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

  “I have no idea ma’am. We don’t open the packages. If I could just have your signature I’ll get out of your way.”

  He pulled the door aside and sat the box on the floor. He then shoved a clipboard in her face. At this point her antenna went up. This did not seem right. She noticed him reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a white cloth. There were two things about her that the man at the door did not know. She had worked for years as an operating room nurse. She recognized the odor of anesthetic immediately. Second, being single most of her life she had taken self- defense courses for the exercise but also to be able to defend herself if she were ever attacked. She was nothing if not decisive. She slapped the clipboard aside and took a step back. She then delivered a solid kick at his groin. He saw it coming just in time to turn partially sideways. She hurt him but did not connect at the spot she had aimed it. He backed up with a look of shock on his face and then turned and ran to his truck. It was a beat up white pickup with some kind of sign on the door.

  It was not until he was gone that she realized that she had not noted the make or license plate of the vehicle or read the sign on the door. She wore contacts but had not yet put them in. She ran into the house to dial 911.

  “Dusty, it’s Amanda. I think we’ve had a break in our case. A fifty-two year old woman in Muskegon was the victim of an attempted abduction today. A delivery man came to her door and asked her to sign for a package from someone she had not heard from in years. She was suspicious of the whole thing. When he gave her a clipboard to sign a receipt she saw him pull a cloth from his pocket and she smelled anesthesia. She had worked for years in an OR so she recognized it immediately. She’s a black belt, believe it or not, and she responded by a quick kick to the groin. He ran but she did not get a make on the vehicle or the plate number. Just that it was a beat up white pickup. She wears contacts but did not have them in at the time. Also, he left the box and the clipboard. We could get prints. I think we need to see her.”

  “How did you hear of this?”

  “I was talking to the Muskegon Chief on another matter and he happened to mention it. This might have been his next victim.”

  “You’re right, we have to go. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. Tell your housekeeper to tell the boys no golf today. We will not be back in time. Call the Muskegon Chief and tell him we’d like to meet with him as soon as we get to town.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Muskegon was a town on the lake south of Pleasant Harbor. It was a good drive away and Dusty wasted no time. They went through a fast food drive-in on the way and ate lunch in the car. The Chief of Police was named Gerald Lutz and he was waiting in his office when they arrived.

  After introductions Dusty and Amanda filled him in on the case to date.

  “This could be a major break,” Amanda said. “Up to now we don’t have a crime scene and next to no evidence. Have you dusted for prints?”

  “Of course. But all we have are smudges. The box was empty. The clip board and pen and receipt form you can buy in any office supply store. Like I told you Mrs. Wilshire wears contacts but did not have them in. She said the truck was white and old and dirty. I’ve got her in the station now working with an artist to get a sketch. As soon as they’re done let’s interview her together.”

  “Thanks for your cooperation Chief. We have a real jurisdictional mess here. In addition to my office and Amanda’s we have involvement with the St. Joseph police department and also the State Police have been involved. So far everyone has agreed to share any information they have with everyone else. I hope that works for you.”

  “No problem. You guys have the bodies. It’s fine with me if you quarterback the deal. Just keep me in the loop.”

  A few minutes later the police sketch artist knocked on the Chief’s open door. “I’ve got what I can get here Chief but it’s not very good. She wears contacts and she said she had not put them in before the guy rang her doorbell. All she could give me was a generic, white man, middle age picture. It won’t do you a lot of good.”

  They all glanced at the sketch. It could have been any middle aged white guy.

  “Okay, Greg, thanks for trying. Please bring her to my office. We want to ask her some questions.” A few minutes later the artist escorted Mrs. Wilshire into the office. She was a stocky, not very attractive woman with short hair. She wore jeans and a faded blouse.

  “Please have a seat Ms. Wilshire. I understand that this has already been a bad day for you. This is Chief Stevens from Pleasant Harbor and Sheriff Dusty Donavan from Pottawatomie County. They’re here because they are investigating a similar case. We’d just like to ask you a few questions and then we’ll drive you home.”

  Chief Lutz began. “We understand that you did not get a good look at the man but is there anything you noticed about him—an accent, body odor, anything that might help in identifying him?”

  “No, he spoke normally. No body odor, just the chloroform. I’m five eight and he seemed an inch or two taller than me. I will tell you this. He has a problem with assertive women. As soon as I kicked him he headed for the hills. He didn’t go after me at all, the sick son of a bitch. Does this have anything to do with those two bodies you guys found in the Lake? Now there’s a sick son of a bitch too. You think it might be the same guy?”

  “I’m sorry Ms. Wilshire” Dusty said. “All this is still under investigation and we just can’t say anything for sure yet. If you think of anything at all that might help us please contact Sheriff Lutz. Oh, and be extra cautious. Don’t open the door for anyone unless you are sure it is someone you know. Make sure all your doors and windows are locked. Be alert when you are out.”

  “So you think he’ll come back for me?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Probably not. You spooked him pretty good. But better safe than sorry.”

  “For the next week or so I’ll have a car drive past your house every hour or so,” Lutz said.

  “Well,” Dusty said after they were alone. “We’ve got one more reason to think our perp is not Roberto”

  Angela looked at him quizzically.

  “We know where Roberto was when this happened.”

  “Well, of course. You’re right.”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Well you got away the first time momma. But I’ll be back. I just need to work out a different approach. It took a long time to find you. You live alone. Divorced a long time ago. And a real mean bitch. Nobody likes you. No friends. Hardly ever go out. Was talking to a State Trooper friend and he said he just stopped the meanest most foul mouthed bitch he’s ever run into. Was just going to give you a warning for speeding but ended up giving you a ticket for being so disagreeable. I tracked down the ticket and did some background on you. You will do perfectly.

  Thank goodness I put glue on my fingertips. Old trick I read about years ago. I’m going to watch you a little more. I’ll figure out a way to take you down before you even know I’m there.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  The next morning Dusty, Amanda and Ed met with Judge Walters, the senior judge for their district and Tom Cassidy, their local district attorney. They explained the situa
tion to the two men.

  “Now here are our questions,” Dusty said. “First, how long can we hold this man without charging him? Second, do either of you think we have any case with just his uncorroborated confession? Frankly, all three of us think he is a false positive but we can’t know for sure.”

  “I’ll answer the first question but not the second,” Judge Walters said. “In case this ever comes before me I don’t want to comment on the quality of the case. It could prejudice my position. The law says you have 72 hours after arresting a suspect to either charge them or release them. The problem here is that you did not arrest him. You’ve just been letting him live free in the jail. I think we need to bring him into the system. I think you should charge him and have him arraigned as soon as possible. A confession is adequate grounds for that. I’ll let Tom address the other issue.”

  “Christ,” Cassidy said. “I wouldn’t want to try this case with what you’ve got. Particularly with a guy who admits to hearing voices. I’d suggest you make one more effort to get him to give you something substantial. If not, then bring him in for arraignment and we’ll ask for the largest bail we can get. That may keep him in custody for a while. The odds are pretty good that neither he nor his mother can come up with a large bail.”

  “Okay,” Dusty said. “As soon as we charge him we’ll ask for a warrant to search his car and the house. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “I really don’t want him on the street,” Amanda said. “First, we could be wrong and he might really be the perp. Then some other woman could be endangered. Plus, even if he’s innocent of the killings, he admits to his voice telling him to kill his mother which he obviously finds very unsettling. Christ, he lives in the same house. Suppose he actually goes after her? Then we’ll look terrible for letting him go.”