Final Vows

by Karen Kingsbury

  Final Vows

  Copyright

  A Note from Karen Kingsbury

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Explanatory Note

  People You’re About to Meet

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Reader Letter

  About the Author

  About Bondfire Books

  Book List

  FINAL VOWS

  MURDER, MADNESS, & TWISTED JUSTICE IN CALIFORNIA

  “I promised to love her as long as we both shall live. Well, I’m still alive and I still love her. I will always love her. Is anyone listening?”

  —Dan Montecalvo

  KAREN KINGSBURY

  Final Vows

  Copyright © 1995, 2014 by Karen Kingsbury

  Cover art to the electronic edition copyright © 2014 by Bondfire Books, LLC.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, stored, transmitted, or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying, recording, or scanning, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except for brief quotations in reviews or articles.

  See full line of Bondfire Books titles at www.bondfirebooks.com.

  Electronic edition published 2014 by Bondfire Books LLC, Colorado.

  ISBN 9781629211398

  A Note from Karen Kingsbury

  The story you are about to read was adapted from my days as a news reporter for the Los Angeles Times.

  Sadly, the characters in this story are real. In most cases, the dialogue and events are real. Some scenes have been re-created to better tell the story. Always, the chapters were difficult to write, a very real look at the darker side of life.

  Missy’s Murder was the first of four true-crime books I wrote at the beginning of my career as an author. It allowed me to be home with my daughter, Kelsey, who was just an infant when I covered the trial.

  I wrote three more, Final Vows, Deadly Pretender, and Snake and the Spider. After that, I decided I couldn’t write another. I’d explored enough of the dark side.

  All of my novels since then contain characters with serious trials and troubles, but they are written in context of the faith, light, and hope that I believe exists for us all—including the characters in this book. God Bless!

  Karen Kingsbury

  P.S. You can learn more about my other titles at KarenKingsbury.com or by following me on Facebook and Twitter.

  Dedicated

  To

  Donald,

  for your unending love and support.

  My love for you is stronger

  than I thought possible.

  Little Norm,

  my inspiration.

  I love you so much, Norm.

  Dad, Mom, Sue, David, Tricia, and Lynne,

  for your love and encouragement.

  Don and Betty, Phyllis and Sonny,

  my second family.

  Jo Ann,

  for making me laugh,

  and always saving me a spade when I go nil.

  Even when we’re not playing cards.

  And especially to the Good Lord,

  who has always given me life abundantly.

  (1995)

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank the people who helped make this book possible. First, a special thanks to Brian Arnspiger, whose energy and abilities as a detective are unequalled; and to Ben Bernard, who is without a doubt one of the most brilliant prosecutors ever. Thank you for helping me decipher 8,600 pages of evidence.

  Also, thanks to Lorn Aiken, Chuck Lefler, and Gene Brisco. Your dedication in standing behind a man you believe to be innocent is admirable and makes you a credit to your occupations. Thank you for everything.

  I would also like to thank my husband for having a limitless amount of patience while this project pulled me away from home time and again. Donald, without you I could never have pulled this off. I love you.

  Thanks also go to my father, Ted Kingsbury, for acting as my primary sounding-board throughout the writing of this book. And to my mom, Anne Kingsbury, for being my West Coast publicity specialist. You’ve helped me more than you know. I love you, both.

  A special thanks to Pam, Sue, and the preschool staff as well as to Carrie Foster.

  Finally, I would like to thank Leslie Schnur for believing in my work; Mitch Horowitz and Mercer Warriner for their editorial brilliance; and Arthur Pine for pushing me forward. I consider myself privileged to be working with all of you.

  (1995)

  Author’s Explanatory Note

  The events described in this book are taken directly from court transcripts and other public records and documents, as well as from numerous interviews with the many people involved. However, in many instances, to better communicate the story and the atmosphere surrounding the events, incidents and dialogue were dramatically recreated based on court testimony and other public records, and interviews with various participants or other knowledgeable individuals.

  May Atwater, Ralph Atwater, Kevin Bennington, Ben Bernard, Laura Bernard, Joe Gamboda, Ron Hardy, Cathy Hines, Dan Hines, Tricia Lynn, Jack McKenzie, Donald S. Meine, Raj Rakia, Vic Santinni, Carmelo Tronconi, Jon Tronconi, Maria Tronconi, Roseanna Tronconi, and Annette Wilder, and the names of a few other minor characters, are all pseudonyms. The author has chosen to change these names and disguise the identities of certain of the people involved in this story. This has been done to preserve privacy. Any similarity between the fictitious names used and those of living persons is, of course, entirely coincidental.

  People You’re About to Meet

  Who shot Carol Montecalvo in cold blood—was it her husband the ex-con…or is the killer still at large?

  They were wed behind bars—the convicted felon and the woman sent to save him.

  And with a kiss she sealed her bloody fate…

  Carol Montecalvo—Eight years of marriage to Dan had left her estranged from her family, seventy pounds overweight, but still deeply in love.

  Dan Montecalvo—His drinking had gotten worse, his gambling debts were piling up, and his wife, Carol, was insured for a half-million dollars.

  Suzan Brown—She knew something about the night Carol died, but could she be trusted?

  Brian Arnspiger—A cop’s cop with his instincts screaming that Dan had killed his wife—all Brian had to do was get the evidence.

  Ben Bernard—He was a
smooth, incredibly good prosecutor, and he knew how to make every innuendo, every darn fact count to convict Dan.

  Lorn Aiken—He was a red-hot defense attorney who never took on a client who lied to him; he was prepared to bring up the forgotten footprints, the rifled cash box, the missing guns, the slit screen door to prove Dan’s innocence.

  Maree Flores—She never thought she’d fall in love again, and this soft, sweet woman had . . . with a man on trial for murder.

  Chapter 1

  On the evening of March 31, 1988, just after 10:30, Carol Montecalvo reached into her dresser drawer for a pair of lightweight blue shorts, folded them neatly in half, and placed them inside her brown vinyl suitcase. Hawaii would be warmer than Burbank, California, where spring temperatures often dropped to the low 50s at night, and Carol had packed several pairs of big, baggy shorts. She sorted through her nearly full suitcase. A few more items and she would be finished.

  Easing herself slowly onto the bed, she drew in a deep breath and ran her fingers through her short, dark brown hair. It was hard to believe that in less than twelve hours she and Dan would be on an airplane leaving the hectic pace of Los Angeles County for the peaceful Hawaiian Islands. Carol closed her eyes and silently began to pray.

  Her expectations for this trip were high. Lately she had grown more and more concerned about her husband’s drinking. The problem had not yet affected their marriage, which Carol believed was still better than most even after nearly eight years. As far as she knew, Dan didn’t cheat, didn’t complain about the weight she’d gained in recent years, and for most of their marriage hadn’t let alcohol cross his lips.

  The problems had started in 1986 when a bleeding ulcer had forced Dan to quit work. Not long afterward he began drinking to ease his frustration and boredom. At first he took only a few mixed drinks in the evenings but after a year of unemployment, drinking had become part of his daily routine. Sometimes he was so drunk Carol would wonder how he drove home from the bars without killing someone.

  Carol began to think up ways she could rescue him and improve their marriage—before the alcohol could do permanent damage to both. She believed Dan needed only some time away, a place where he could regain the faith in God he’d had early in their marriage. There had been just one problem. Because of Dan’s disability they had barely enough money to buy groceries. Carol tried to imagine ways they might scrape together the money for a trip, but the demands of day-to-day living were always too costly. A getaway vacation would be financially impossible.

  At about that time, Carol began to pray that God would somehow provide them with the means.

  Answered prayer came in the form of a sales contest sponsored by her employer—Pacific Bell Yellow Pages. First prize: An all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii. The couple had visited Hawaii early in their marriage and during their stay had fallen even deeper in love with each other. Hawaii, she decided, would be the perfect place for Dan to rediscover that love, abandon alcohol, and come home a changed man.

  Carol knew the changes would need to be drastic. By late 1987, Dan had turned fifty. He had slid even deeper into depression and alcohol abuse, perhaps because he realized he was no longer a young man and would have fewer opportunities to turn his life around. Carol, who at forty-two was no less in love with her husband than she had been the day she’d married him, knew this trip might be Dan’s only chance.

  The more Carol thought about the vacation the harder she worked. Through the end of 1987 and into 1988 there were evenings she wouldn’t come home until eight or nine o’clock when she was certain she couldn’t sell one more ad. In January when the company named Carol the Southern California winner, no one was less surprised than her supervisor. In fifteen years with the telephone company, Laura Annetelli had never seen a sales representative sell ads like Carol Montecalvo.

  Carol could hardly wait to tell Dan the good news.

  If Dan had been thrilled later that night when he came home from the bars and heard about the trip, he was most likely too drunk to remember. Carol patiently repeated the story the next morning, refusing to allow Dan’s increasing reliance on alcohol to dampen her excitement.

  The hopes and dreams of her entire lifetime took shape as Carol began planning the vacation. The Montecalvos scheduled it for April and even saved enough money to lengthen their trip by two days. More than a week in Hawaii and surely Dan would be more relaxed, his ulcer might get better, and they could make plans for their future. Best of all, Carol believed with all her heart that Dan would stop drinking during this vacation. In fact, she believed the trip could quite possibly change their entire lives.

  “Want to take a walk?” Dan sauntered into their bedroom combing his hair as he glanced at the open suitcase on the bed. He had been packing in the next room and taking care of last-minute necessities before the trip. “I could use a break.”

  Carol smiled and held out her hand. She was a short woman of Italian ancestry who kept her dark hair attractively cut close to her plump face. Those who knew her agreed that Carol’s eyes were by far her best feature—sparkling brown eyes that were every bit as full of compassion as they were full of life. In fact, she would have been quite pretty if not for the extra seventy pounds she carried.

  Carol took great pains to hide her weight by wearing fashionably loose black and navy clothing and by always adding matching stockings, shoes, and accessories to her outfit. Makeup was also important to Carol, and she rarely left for a day at the office without painstakingly applying the subtle peach and brown hues that brought her soft face to life. She took pride in her appearance, and perhaps she wanted to imagine herself as she had been the day she married Dan—a much slimmer 130 pounds.

  If Dan minded Carol’s excess weight, he never said so. Carol had even commented to friends that Dan had always been patient and understanding about the weight she had gained over the years. In fact, outsiders tended to notice Carol’s weight far more quickly than her husband did. Although several inches taller than Carol, Dan was a rather small man; therefore, when the two of them stood together, Carol’s weight tended to be more obvious to others. In addition, Dan seemed to shrink in comparison, appearing even smaller than he actually was.

  Carol, however, saw Dan as larger than life. He had the inexplicable ability to charm her and the shy, humble way he spoke to her still made her weak at the knees. Although she was aware of Dan’s troubled past, she thought him a handsome misunderstood gentleman with charming black-brown eyes, black hair, and a dashing mustache.

  In truth, Dan was born and raised in Boston, and his accent, one associated with the poorer sections of that city, reflected his lack of education. But that did not change Carol’s opinion of Dan. No matter that he looked like the gangsters in B-rated films, she thought he bore many similarities to James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause.

  Carol’s friends smiled politely when she talked about Dan that way, lending further credence to the notion that love really was blind. Not that they found Dan unattractive. He simply was not the prince charming Carol made him out to be. Dan stood five-eight, 170 pounds, and wore his thin black hair short and slicked back toward the right side of his head. His voice had a hard edge from years of cigarette smoking.

  There had been a time when women had enjoyed Dan’s dark looks, but that time had long since expired. What had once been a pleasant, baby face was now spoiled by a slightly ruddy complexion from excessive alcohol consumption, and troubled, beady dark eyes. And while not overweight, he was beginning to soften around the middle and no longer possessed the type of physique that most women admired. Either way, their friends at Overcomers’ Faith Center Christian Church believed that physical shortcomings mattered little to the Montecalvos, who always seemed so happy and in love with each other.

  That night appearances were the last thing on their minds. Dan clasped Carol’s outstretched hand and helped her up, waiting for her response. She shook her head and yawned. “Not tonight. I still have a lot of
packing to do.”

  Dan pulled her into a hug, and began stroking her hair. “I just wanted to start this vacation a day early. Come on, it’ll be quick. Just a walk around the block.”

  Carol laughed at his persistence. “Okay, okay. You win.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll walk. But let’s make it a short one. What time is it anyway?”

  Carol slipped her flip-flop sandals on as Dan glanced at his watch. “Quarter to eleven. Think you’ll be warm enough?”

  Carol nodded. Although her office dress was impeccable, at home she was most comfortable wearing flip-flops, sweatpants, and casual blouses. Occasionally, like that evening, she would even go without a bra. Carol didn’t care what anyone thought of her need to be casual after work. In her opinion, home was all about feeling safe and comfortable.

  She followed Dan down the hallway of their three-bedroom home and out the front door. “If it gets a little cold we’ll just walk faster.”

  Dan shut the door, testing it to be sure it was locked. “Same way?” he asked, nodding his head in a northerly direction up South Myers Street.

  “Same way,” she answered.

  Four or five times a week the Montecalvos walked in that direction, past several neighbors’ houses, around the block, and back home to the house they had shared since Christmas 1985. Dan took Carol’s hand in his and the couple started walking.

  Fifty yards down the street they passed Suzan Brown’s house. Earlier that March evening, like most evenings, Suzan had been busy building Popsicle-stick lampshades in her garage. This habit was not the only indication of the forty-two-year-old woman’s oddities. She was also in a wheelchair, seemingly without reason. Her neighbors routinely saw Suzan romping about her backyard playing with her three dogs and appearing perfectly able-bodied—the chair nowhere to be seen.

  If that wasn’t enough, Suzan’s appearance raised more than a few eyebrows around the neighborhood. She was heavyset and wore her brown hair short and straight, cropped close to her head. On her arms were tattoos of anchors and hearts and whenever she dressed up she’d wear men’s trousers and dress shirts. In fact, if a person didn’t know her, he or she might easily have mistaken her for a middle-aged man.