Satoshi continued, and a change sang in her voice, indicating that she was surprised by the memories she was having.
"You know what else? I saw it again on the news a few days later. Tami's mom was driving it. It was a… I don't know what kind. But it was white. A white car. That was the one that Mariko had said that she liked. It belonged to Mrs. Franklin." She smiled to herself and added, "I haven't thought of any of this stuff in years." "You saw what?" Sam and I asked simultaneously.
"The Franklins' car was parked down by the stable. I guess Mrs. Franklin had come out to the ranch while we were inside with Dr. Welle" Sam pressed.
"Was Gloria there? Mrs. Welle? When you were at the ranch, before or after meeting with Dr. Welle, did you see Mrs. Welle?"
Satoshi shook her head.
"No, we didn't see anyone else while we were there. But I never knew Mrs. Welle. She's the one who was murdered in that house, right?
She was the one who was shot?"
I interjected, "Yes, she's the one who was killed there. Satoshi, there were housekeepers at Dr. Welle's ranch-two of them. Women. Did you see either of them that day?"
"No." She didn't hesitate.
"What about cowboys? There were two hands who worked at the ranch full-time.
Did you see either of them?"
"No. No one else. Only Dr. Welle." She pursed her lips.
"What are you two thinking? Are you thinking that Dr. Welle had called Mrs. Franklin and told her what Joey had done to me and that's why she came over to the ranch? I don't think that's possible; Dr. Welle was with me the whole time.
I don't recall him leaving the room at all. I didn't see him call anyone." I said, "No, that's not what I was thinking."
Satoshi moved her tongue between her teeth for a moment. She cocked her head to one side.
"Are you suggesting Dr. Welle and Joeys mom were-No. Is that what you're thinking? That they were having an affair? That that's why she was at the ranch?" Sam shrugged. I said, "I don't know that they were having an affair. But I guess that it would explain some things."
"Like?" Satoshi was tired. She should have been able to answer this question herself.
I said, "Like why Dr. Welle never encouraged you to report what Joey did to the police."
Satoshi wanted to use the bathroom before we locked up the flower shop. As soon as I heard the door close behind her, I said to Sam, "Every time I blink my eyes, it appears that Raymond Welle is deeper and deeper into this mess."
"Go on"
"If he's screwing Joey's mother, he's going to have a difficult time being objective about her kid raping someone."
Sam shrugged.
"Sure. But so what? It still doesn't tell me why that would have led him to kill the two girls."
"What if Mrs. Franklin and Welle were having an affair and the two girls found out about it? "
"Yeah? So? You think they put their heads together and decided it would be easier to cover up a double murder than to cover up an affair? You think parents go around murdering their children after the kids discover that the parents have been sneaking around doing a Lewinsky? I don't think so-there'd be dead kids everywhere." I stifled another yawn and suppressed an argument that the number of dead kids in the world was way too high for my comfort level already. Sam appraised me critically before he said, "You know, I'm beginning to get the impression that you don't think too well after midnight. You're sounding kind of goofy."
I was feeling a little bit defensive.
"You have to admit it's a mess. The whole situation."
"Of course it's a mess. But what does that tell us? Nothing. You're out looking for suspects, Alan. It doesn't work that way. Look for evidence. We found some evidence tonight-evidence that Mrs. Franklin was at the ranch. That may help lead to a suspect. It may not. It may be Welle. It may not."
Satoshi walked back into the room. She'd apparently been listening to the argument. She said, "I told him pretty much the same thing about Joey, Sam" She faced me.
"You know, Alan, you've already told me that you've been suspicious that Raymond Welle might have been sleeping with my sister, right?"
"It wasn't exactly my accusation. But yes."
"And now you're considering the possibility that he was having an affair with Joey's mom. Right?"
I wanted Satoshi to sit down, but she remained standing. I said, "Yes. That's one conclusion."
"So are both suppositions true? Or only one? And which one? His motivation would change, depending on who he was sleeping with, right?"
"Right." Sam had been correct. I wasn't thinking well.
"Maybe he was sleeping with both of them. I don't know."
"And maybe neither?"
"I suppose that's possible, too."
Sam and Satoshi walked down Pearl toward the Mall and, I guessed, toward Sam's old Jeep Cherokee. The downtown bars had just emptied out and there were a few dozen pedestrians still loitering as though something interesting was about to happen. I had parked on Ninth in front of where Treats used to be. The building that housed the bakery was now history. I still missed the wonderful breakfast rolls and muffins at Treats.
And I missed the trifle at Southern Exposure. And the grits at the original Dots Diner. And the omelettes at the Aristocrat. The Irish stew at Shannon's.
Fred's wonderful pie. And the brats on brown bread at Dons Cheese and Sausage.
When I was finished reminiscing about the Boulder that existed before Subway and Starbucks, and before the Gap and Banana Republic, I realized I wasn't as convinced as Sam that Welle wasn't implicated in at least five different ways in the murder of the two dead girls. But I was also exhausted. I had to force myself to concentrate to remember the final part of Satoshi's story-the part when she described to Sam and me what had happened after Mariko had driven her home from her visit to see Raymond Welle at the Silky Road Ranch.
Satoshi said that Mariko had folded her into the front seat of the car as though she were a small child. She took her home and she did what she could to offer comfort. She brought her tea and she smuggled some American candy into her room.
Satoshi thought it had been a Three Musketeers bar. Satoshi remembered that she had really liked them when she was young.
Sam, I could tell, was pleased at the detail of her recollection.
Mariko had plans to see Tami that night. Satoshi said that at some point her sister left her alone in her room and went to get ready to go see her friend.
Satoshi watched out the window as Mariko walked away to meet Tami. Satoshi didn't know where the two friends were supposed to meet.
She never saw her sister again.
I sucked down coffee the next morning while Lauren stood at the sink with her back to me and grumbled that she wished she could do what I was doing. I growled back, "What? Stay out till three o'clock and feel terrible in the morning?" She showed no sympathy as she said, "No. Have real coffee for breakfast. With caffeine."
After my second cup I offered an apology for my intemperance and gave her a quick we-both-have-to-get-to-work rendition of the previous night's marathon with Sam and Satoshi. She found the possibility of a romantic liaison between her ex-brother-in-law and Cathy Franklin intriguing. But she didn't have time to discuss it; she had to get to a breakfast meeting.
Her purse in one hand, her briefcase in the other, she said, "Oh, I almost forgot, Flynn Coe called after you left last night. She said she had a present for you. The mystery man? The one Dorothy Levin mentioned in the note she scribbled on the fax? They managed to identify him through hotel phone records.
His name is Winston Mcgarrity. His phone number is by the phone in the bedroom.
Bye. Love you. Oh, and something big is breaking with the forensics on the case.
She couldn't say what, but said that they've been reexamining some of the previously unidentified materials from the autopsy and the crime scene and think they have something solid. That's why they're ready to proceed with a search of the ranch. Sh
e said we'll hear about it soon enough." With that, Lauren walked out to her car. * * *
Late that morning, between patients, I phoned Winston Mcgarrity. The telephone prefix was for a Steamboat Springs number. The line was answered by a woman whose voice reminded me of Lauren's mother. She said, "Mcgarrity Associates."
"Winston Mcgarrity, please."
"May I tell him who's calling?"
"It's Dr. Alan Gregory."
She paused. I imagined her lips pursing.
"Is this about a claim for one of your patients, Dr. Gregory? Because Win-Mr. Mcgarrity senior-doesn't actually do claims anymore." Her voice resonated with an endearing little chuckle at the thought of Win Mcgarrity actually doing claims.
"No, this isn't about a claim."
She was silent, waiting for me to elaborate and dig myself a hole so deep that I couldn't climb out of it. I waited along with her. Finally she asked, "It's about… what then? If you would be so kind."
I wasn't sure how to respond. I said, "Mcgarrity Associates is an… insurance company? Is that correct?" I don't know why I was surprised to realize the nature of the business I'd called, but I was.
"Agency. We're the largest independent in Routt County. Serving our clients since 1982"
"What kind of insurance do you sell?"
"Home, auto, health, life, disability-you name it, we sell it. Soup to nuts.
Are you looking for malpractice? Because if you are, I'm afraid we don't do that." I heard a second line ringing in the background. Her voice jumped an octave as she said, "Oh my, but things are starting to hop around here. Now may I please tell Win what this is all about?"
I wasn't sure I was ever going to get past this woman who was guarding the door and actually speak with Winston Mcgarrity. I decided to use what I assumed would function as the verbal equivalent of a skeleton key. I said, "Please tell him I'm calling about Gloria Welle." She said, "Gloria? Really? Oh my! Just a moment. Oh my!" "Hi," he said, "this is Win." His voice was softer than mine, which made it as soft as a whisper.
"Mr. Mcgarrity, my name is-," I began. Before I could say another word, he interrupted.
"Win. Mr. Mcgarrity is my father. You're Doctor…?"
"Gregory. Call me Alan."
"Alan, what can I do for you? I already understand from Louise that you're not buying anything, you're not selling anything, and you're not complaining about anything. So right off the bat-just from the point of view of complete novelty-you have my undivided attention " I smiled.
"I'll try to be brief. I'm calling about a recent meeting that you had with a Washington Post reporter by the name of-"
"Dorothy Levin-Dorothy. What a shame what happened to her. What a complete and utter shame. I liked her. She talked a bit fast for my taste. And she smoked like my brother-in-law's John Deere. I tried to tell her that her premiums would be much lower if she just stopped smoking. Health, life, everything. She wouldn't listen; they never do, the smokers. But I liked her. Know what else?
Tragedy is that at the time she disappeared she was severely under insured Young ones often are" Actual tragedy was, I thought, that it mattered that she was under insured I said, "I'm fond of her, too, Win. The meeting I was talking about? I understand that you spoke with her the day before she-"
"Actually, didn't just speak with her, I had dinner with her. Nice place in town called Antares? You ever been there?"
Before I had a chance to acknowledge that I had, he said, "Well, try it next time you're up here. Use my name if you like, may get you a kick in the rear."
He laughed. I sensed that his self-deprecation was not exactly genuine.
"I recommend the mixed grill. Dorothy had it on my advice. And I think she enjoyed it just fine. That's my memory anyway."
"Do you mind if I ask what you talked about? Why she-"
"Why she thought I might know something that might interest the Washington Post?" The interruptions were becoming less jarring. I was actually beginning to expect him to finish my sentences for me. And I had to admire he was doing a pretty fair job of anticipating my drift.
"Don't exactly know. Somebody probably gave her the name of some local citizens who might have been considered movers and shakers in this town back in the eighties and early nineties. You collect enough lists like that, my name would probably show up on one or two. I've been here awhile. I've made some friends over the years. I've been lucky enough to own some land in some of the right places. And unlucky enough to own in a few of the wrong ones, too." He chuckled.
"But nobody ever really wants to talk about the mistakes I made. Dorothy never would say exactly how my name came up. Turned out, though, that what she wanted to talk about was Ray Welle's campaign finances for the primary elections he lost ten years or so ago. The first couple of elections. It was a short conversation cause I didn't have much to say. I didn't run with Ray Welle's herd back then."
He laughed self-consciously.
"Truth is that I don't run with Ray's herd now."
I tried to keep my tone conversational as I said, "And after you were done talking about Ray, that's when you and Dorothy started discussing Gloria Welle's murder?"
He hadn't been able to anticipate the end of that question. When he spoke again his voice was suddenly a little raspy, as though his throat had dried considerably. He asked, "Now how did you know that?"
I considered lying but didn't.
"Dorothy sent me a note the night before she disappeared. Said she'd had an interesting dinner with someone who had some unusual theories about Gloria's death. She knew that the whole episode out at the Silky Road is an interest of mine."
"Why's that? Curious interest for someone." I'd anticipated the question and told him that I'd recently befriended Kevin Sample.
He said, "Oh." His voice grew even fainter at the mention of the Sample name. I pressed the phone hard against my ear in a vain attempt to increase the volume.
Win asked, "How is that boy?"
"He's in veterinary school in Fort Collins. He's doing better than you would expect."
"Good. Good. I'm relieved to hear that. Life like that boy had when he was young-could have ended up with all kinds of tragic outcomes. Hey, I'm sure you don't want to play guessing games with me, so I'll just tell you what I told Dorothy about Gloria's death. No harm there. Curious thing is, only a week or so before he killed Gloria, Brian called me and asked about buying some additional life insurance."
Really?" For himself?"
"For himself, that's right. Well, I knew of course what had been happening to the Samples-everyone in town did. I knew about his son's terrible accident.
And Brian's suicide attempt, too. But I heard him out, polite and professional as can be. When he was all done, I told him the honest-to-God truth, which was that, if he insisted, I'd take his application right then over the phone. But I explained that there wasn't much likelihood that any of the companies that I represent were going to be too eager to underwrite a life insurance policy on him after looking at his recent medical history."
"You were referring to the suicide attempt?"
"Yes, that's right, I was."
"And?"
"And nothing. He asked me a few questions about the way the policies worked, the underwriting and all, and after I explained, he said he understood. He hadn't even known that the policy he had already bought from me just before his son's car accident-that one was for two hundred and fifty thou-he didn't even understand that if he had died from his recent suicide attempt, it wouldn't have paid death benefits."
"And that's because…?"
"There's a grace period, a waiting period if you will, on life insurance policies so that someone can't just buy one and then kill himself the next day.
The waiting period on Brian's existing policy wasn't up. He didn't remember that. Anyway, I answered all his questions and he thanked me for my time. Brian had always been a gentleman and he was that day as well. He was a gentleman right up until the very end, I would say."
"Do you think he was thinking that he might die while he was doing whatever he was planning to do at the Welles' ranch? Do you think that's why he wanted the additional life insurance?"
"Don't see any other possible conclusion. Do you?"
"No sir," I said, "I don't."
It all made more sense than it had before.
At least a week before he made his way out to the Silky Road Ranch, Brian Sample had already decided to seek his revenge on Raymond Welle. He assumed that his plan for vengeance might result in his death. In fact, he judged it to be enough of a risk that he endeavored to increase the insurance on his own life prior to kidnapping Gloria Welle.
In our recent meeting, Kevin Sample had been eager to view his father's optimism and relative ebullience the morning he died as a sign that his depression had abated. The exact opposite might have been true. The reality is that the mood of a suicidal individual often brightens after he has decided on a plan that will end his life. Many families and many psychotherapists are fooled by the improvement in mood and lulled into believing that self-destructive danger has ameliorated. It appeared likely that the morning Kevin Sample had breakfast with his father, Brian Sample was more talkative because he had already settled on a plan that was likely to end his life.
Kevin, ever hopeful, wanted to believe that what he saw that morning was evidence that his father was getting better.
But that morning over a breakfast of pancakes and sausages with his surviving son, Brian Sample wasn't less depressed because he had found a solution to his grief. Nor was he brighter because he had discovered a way to escape from his depression. Brian Sample was simply relieved.
He knew that his pain was almost over because he had arranged a standby seat on the next flight off the planet.
The only thing I didn't understand was why he wanted to take Gloria Welle on the ride along with him. I was assuming I would never know the answer to that question. Then I recalled that the night before I'd promised Kevin Sample that I would review his father's psychotherapy history with Raymond Welle.
Maybe I would learn something about Brian Sample's motives after all.
Cold Case Page 27
