by Kathi Daley
“My name is Tj Jensen and this is my friend Kyle Donovan. Are you Clarissa Halloran?”
“I am. And who might you be?”
“We are, or I guess I should say were, friends of Judge Harper. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions.”
Clarissa twisted a strand of her long red hair around her finger in a nervous gesture. “I don’t know anything about Judge Harper’s death. I heard he was in an auto accident. It was a tragedy really. I only recently met him, although I’ve lived here for over ten years.”
“We don’t want to speak to you about Judge Harper’s death,” I corrected her. “We’d like to talk about a matter he was looking into for you. We understand you asked him to take a second look at the death of Jennifer Reinhold.”
The woman frowned at us. She looked as if she might refuse to answer. “Do you work for the sheriff’s office?”
I shook my head. “No. We’re…freelance consultants who simply want to find out what happened to our friend. We’d really appreciate it if you could give us a few minutes of your time.”
She paused before stepping aside and allowing us in. As were many of the homes in the community, hers looked as if it had been professionally decorated. If I had to guess, the furnishings inside cost as much as many of the houses located in other residential areas surrounding the lake.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” she asked after showing us into the living room, where she motioned for us to have a seat on her sofa.
“No, thank you,” I answered.
She sat down on a chair across from us. “What is it you want to know?”
I sat forward and glanced gently at the woman, who still looked uncertain. “After Judge Harper died, the deputy assigned to the case and I went through some of his files and found one that detailed his investigation into the possibility that Steven Reinhold hadn’t killed his wife. His notes indicated that he began looking into the matter after meeting you.”
Clarissa nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“Mr. Reinhold has been in prison for almost eight years. My first question is, why did you ask the judge to look into the case after all this time?”
The woman narrowed her gaze. She paused, but then she answered, “Honestly, it all comes down to opportunity.”
I raised a brow. “Can you elaborate?”
Clarissa crossed her legs and her arms before answering. “When I was interviewed after the murder, I told the man in charge of the investigation that it was my belief Steven was innocent. He took my statement, but it was obvious he’d already made up his mind otherwise. When Steven was convicted and sent to prison, I thought about doing something to help the poor guy, but I didn’t know where to start, so I pretty much let it go. It wasn’t like I had proof of Steven’s innocence or anything. It was more like I had a hunch I had no way of proving. Then I met Judge Harper at a party and remembered he was the judge who presided over Steven’s trial. We got to talking about the trial and I shared with him some of the thoughts I’d had all along. He seemed interested and invited me to his home for a formal interview. I told him I was happy to share my ideas, so we met. He asked a bunch of questions and took a bunch of notes. He must have thought I’d made good points, because I know that after our talk he interviewed some of the other neighbors who were around back then.”
“You said you didn’t think Reinhold killed his wife. Do you have a theory as to who did?” I asked.
“Not a clue.”
“Then can you tell me why you think he’s innocent?”
Halloran sat back in her chair, glancing at both Kyle and me before answering. Based on the contemplative expression on her face, I imagined she was trying to make up her mind about whether to take us into her confidence. Apparently she decided to trust us. “Steven and I used to meet to go jogging a couple times a week. And just in case you’re wondering, no, there wasn’t anything between us. I jog three or four times a week and I’d run into him on several occasions. Eventually we began to arrange to meet at a specific place at a specific time and we’d jog together.”
“And you talked while you jogged?”
“We did. I knew Steven and his wife were having problems. We talked about it many times. He told me he’d contacted an attorney to discuss divorce. I don’t know why a man would kill his wife if he had already made plans to leave her.”
“Could there have been a financial reason, like a prenup?” Kyle asked.
“They had a prenup, but Steven didn’t stand to receive any money from his wife either way. He told me that Jennifer had brought a significant amount of money to the relationship. She was the sole heir to her grandmother’s estate, and her inheritance was set up so that only another family member could inherit the money should something happen to her. Steven and Jennifer’s prenup stated that if they divorced his settlement would be limited to ten thousand dollars; if she passed away before Steven did, his inheritance would be the same ten thousand dollars. As I said, whether she passed or they divorced, it was all the same to him from a financial standpoint.”
“Do you know who inherited her money when she died?” I asked.
Clarissa shrugged. “I’m not sure. All I know is it had to be a family member. I remember him mentioning that Jennifer had a sister, so maybe she got the money. For all I know, the grandmother could have arranged everything before she died and a cousin or someone else related to her inherited the money.”
“So the only way for Steven to have access to his wife’s money was to stay in the marriage,” Kyle clarified.
The woman tilted her head to the side. “Exactly. But Steven told me that although he enjoyed the perks that came from being married to a rich woman, their relationship had deteriorated to the point that it wasn’t worth it and he wanted out.”
“Did Mrs. Reinhold know her husband planned to file for divorce?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. Steven told me he was committed to the divorce, but he was afraid to tell her what he was planning until everything was in place and he was ready to leave Paradise Lake.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
“He said he was afraid she was going to go bat-crap crazy—his words. He’d already told me Jennifer had deep emotional problems that caused her to react in a physically violent manner.”
“Such as throwing dishes and yelling and screaming,” I concluded.
Clarissa nodded. “Exactly. I think they were both passionate individuals who had a tendency toward extreme behavior. Steven wanted out of the relationship. He had a plan to leave his wife and nothing to gain by killing her, so why would he? It did cross my mind that he finally told Jennifer he was divorcing her, she went crazy, and he killed her during the course of an altercation, but he said he was innocent and I believed him. In fact, the deeper into things the trial went and the more evidence the prosecution presented, the more certain I was that Steven was being set up.”
I remembered there being a comment in Judge Harper’s notes suggesting Reinhold had possibly been set up.
“Walk us through your train of thought,” I said.
Clarissa leaned forward and glanced at both Kyle and me. She met our eyes before she began. “First of all, if Steven was guilty, why would he report Jennifer missing at all? I know he waited three weeks, which on the surface seems like a long time, but he explained that his wife had a history of taking off for extended periods. He wasn’t worried until the statement came in the mail and he realized she hadn’t used her credit card since she’d been gone. Keep in mind no one knew she was missing, so no one had been looking for her. If Steven had killed her, why would he call the sheriff? Why wouldn’t he just leave town?”
She had a point.
“The reality is,” she continued, “if Steven hadn’t called the sheriff and reported Jennifer missing, no one would have started looking for her and her body might not ha
ve been found.”
“Maybe he figured someone would eventually find the body and it would make him look guilty if he never told anyone she was missing,” Kyle suggested. “She was, after all, buried in a shallow grave in the middle of a populated area. Eventually someone would have stumbled onto her.”
“That’s true. Which leads to my next argument. Why would Steven bury his wife’s body in a shallow grave behind his own home? If he’d killed Jennifer, he had three weeks to dispose of the body. He had money and resources available to him. Why wouldn’t he at least move the body to another location before he called the sheriff? It makes no sense, and Steven seemed like a smart man.”
“And then there was the other evidence that was found,” Clarissa added. “Bloody sheets just wadded up and tossed into the closet, gloves with Jennifer’s blood on them stashed in the bottom of the clothes hamper, muddy clothes in the garage. After three weeks he hadn’t cleaned any of that up? If Steven killed his wife, he had to be the dumbest murderer in the world.”
I remembered the sheriff’s report had said they hadn’t found any evidence of forced entry and the alarm hadn’t been tampered with, so the killer had to have been someone with access to the house. And Reinhold had testified that there were a lot of people with both the key and alarm code, including Jennifer’s sister, some of her friends, the maid service, and the contractors who had recently worked on the house.
“I just had a thought,” I said. “The Reinholds employed a maid service. I wonder why the maids didn’t find the sheets in the closet or the gloves in the hamper.”
Halloran shrugged. “I don’t know. The service I use doesn’t do laundry. Maybe the Reinholds had a similar setup. Like I said earlier, I don’t know who killed Jennifer or why, and I don’t know when the sheets, gloves, and muddy clothes were left. Maybe whoever set Steven up planted the stuff later, after the maids had already cleaned the room. What I do know is I’ve felt all along that Steven was innocent.”
“You’ve made good arguments,” I acknowledged. “I’m surprised the jury convicted him. Unless they had something else.”
“I always felt the public defender Steven was assigned was an idiot who did nothing to counter the case the prosecution presented.”
“Reinhold was represented by a public defender?” Kyle interrupted.
“Steve’s wife kept her money in an account only she had access to. After she died, he was left with ten thousand dollars and whatever savings he had—not nearly enough to hire a private defense attorney.”
Kyle frowned but encouraged Halloran to continue with her story.
“Like I said, the defense attorney was clueless, and the prosecution did a decent job of creating a case out of what they had. They argued that Steven flew into a fit of rage during one of their infamous fights and stabbed his wife seven times. Then he buried her in the field behind the house and waited. When you coupled that with the physical evidence, the history of domestic disturbance calls, and the fact that there didn’t appear to be any other suspects, the jury was swayed.”
“What did you say to Judge Harper to get him to take a second look at the case?” Kyle asked. “It doesn’t seem as if you provided any new information that would warrant reopening an investigation.”
“I asked him if he felt the defense attorney who represented Steven had done an adequate job of offering the jury an alternative to the prosecution’s theory, and he admitted he hadn’t. I asked him if anyone else had been given serious consideration, or if the prosecution just jumped on the husband-as-killer bandwagon without bothering to consider other suspects. He said I had brought up some good points and he’d look into it.”
“Have you spoken or in any way communicated with Steven Reinhold since he’s been in prison?” I asked.
“No. Like I said, we weren’t that close. We were just jogging partners. It’s not like I’m on a mission to set Steven free. I just remembered I found the trial unfair at the time, and when I met Judge Harper by chance I finally had the opportunity to voice my opinion.”
I sat forward and rested my elbows against my knees, then looked Halloran in the eye. “I asked this before, but I’m going to ask it again. If Reinhold didn’t kill his wife, in your opinion, who would make the best suspect?”
She frowned. “I don’t know who did it, but if I was investigating, I’d look for someone who had access to and familiarity with the house. The killer knew where to stash the bloody sheets and muddy clothes to cast suspicion on Steven and had both a key and the alarm code. I suppose it could have been Jennifer’s sister or one of the maids, but my money would be on whoever inherited Jennifer’s money. Find that out and I bet you find the killer.”
It was clear she’d already thought this through. It was likely Judge Harper had already found out who had inherited the money; all we needed to do was take another look at his file and notes. If the judge’s death was the result of this investigation, he must have had the opportunity to speak to the killer or someone close to them.
“What do you think?” I asked Kyle after we returned to the car.
“I think the answer to who killed Jennifer Reinhold is a complicated one that may not be solvable after all these years. It’s possible Steven Reinhold is guilty despite the fact that it does seem all the evidence is circumstantial. If he’s innocent, why hasn’t he sought an appeal?”
“Yeah, that occurred to me as well. Although maybe he had sought an appeal and it was denied. We should look through Harper’s notes again, keeping in mind who he spoke to and what sort of a conclusion he was coming to.” I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “I need to get back to the resort for the bikini competition, but let’s stop by your place to look at Harper’s file on the way. Now that I have this mystery in my mind, I’m going to have a hard time letting it go.”
Chapter 16
At Kyle’s we spread out the individual pages of the Reinhold file over the top of his dining table. Judge Harper had gathered quite a bit of information. He had a copy of the original sheriff’s report, the coroner’s report, the crime scene unit’s report, and the trial transcript, as well as the notes he’d kept during the trial. Since he’d been approached by Clarissa Halloran, he’d also interviewed several of the Reinholds’ closest contacts: the victim’s sister—who, according to financial records Judge Harper had dug up, had inherited Jennifer’s money—one of the maids, who still lived in Paradise Lake, the contractor who’d been in charge of the remodel, and Steven Reinhold himself. Reading through everything was going to take more time than we had, so we planned to simply skim the documents and get back to them after the bikini contest.
Kyle picked up a stack of pages and sorted through them. “Let’s see if we can whittle the suspect list down a bit if we consider only individuals who both could have killed Jennifer Reinhold and could have tampered with Harper’s car. The sister, for example. She had access to the Reinhold house and would have been familiar with where things were stored, as well as the daily routine. She did inherit the money, which may have provided enough motive to kill Mrs. Reinhold. The problem is, according to Harper’s notes, she moved out of state shortly after Jennifer Reinhold’s death, so it’s unlikely she’s the one who tampered with Judge Harper’s car.”
“Unless she had someone do it for her,” I pointed out.
“I suppose that’s a possibility. But if she was going to hire someone to kill Judge Harper, why use the car as the murder weapon? Why not just shoot him or stab him or put poison in his drink? Tampering with the brakes is too uncertain. There are too many variables to make it an effective method of killing someone.”
I picked up one of the files and sorted through the notes and photographs Judge Harper had gathered. It looked like he’d put a lot of time into the case since speaking to Clarissa Halloran, which, to my mind, indicated that he believed Steven Reinhold might very well be innocent. “It says here Judge Harper interviewed S
am Wilson regarding Mrs. Reinhold’s death. Do you remember seeing an actual interview?”
Kyle picked up a pile of papers and began to sort through it while I turned my attention to another pile to my right.
“I found something,” Kyle said. He pulled out a small stack of notepaper that was secured with a staple on the top right corner. I waited while he began to read. “Well, I’ll be.”
“What?” I asked.
“At the time of Jennifer Reinhold’s death, Sam Wilson was dating her sister—whose name is Kendra, by the way.”
“Sam?” I was having a hard time with that one. Sam had always seemed too attached to his mother to have any other intimate relationship, though he’d told me yesterday that his girlfriend was a contestant in the bikini contest. Now, if Judge Harper’s notes were correct, eight years ago he’d been sleeping with the sister of his rich beautiful neighbor. Maybe my feelings of pity toward him had been misplaced. “Are you suggesting Sam helped Kendra kill Jennifer?”
Kyle continued to read. “It looks like Harper considered Sam a suspect at one point but later changed his mind. He doesn’t say why, but it looks like he dropped the whole thing. He’d known Sam since he was a child, and by then he was involved in an intimate relationship with the guy’s mother. Maybe he realized pursuing Sam as a suspect would get too messy.”
“Maybe. Still, I wonder if Sam knows anything about what was going on at the time of the murder. I know he’s going to be at the bikini contest today. Maybe we can slip a few questions into casual conversation.”
“How are you going to slip the subject of his relationship with the sister of a dead woman into casual conversation?”
“I have no idea. Maybe we’ll have to ask him outright what he knows about Jennifer Reinhold’s death. But I’m curious. Aren’t you?”
“Totally.”
The annual bikini contest was one of the largest and best-attended events held at Maggie’s Hideaway, sponsored by a national tanning company that used it as a means of selecting the spokesmodel for the upcoming year. My dad had portable bleachers and portable toilets brought in for the entire Star-Spangled Spectacular, so a large and boisterous crowd was already gathered as Kyle and I made our way through a traffic jam toward the house and the private parking area for our family and our guests.
