Evidence of Murder

by Samuel Roen

  The two detectives’ attention was caught by Faye Elms waving a wadded-up paper towel fiercely clutched in her hand.

  Elms handed the wrapped package to Deputy Sandy Cawn and said, “I’m sure that you’ll want to examine this.” Cawn placed the package on the hood of her vehicle and began carefully unwrapping the paper towel, with the other officers and Elms watching.

  “There it is,” Weir almost whispered.

  Spread on the hood of the sheriff’s vehicle lay a pair of diamond stud earrings, a pear-shaped diamond solitaire ring and a gold chain. The chain was laced through the ring.

  Deputy Cawn shot picture after picture of the jewelry, including the paper towel. She photographed the pieces separately and also grouped together.

  Weir, with Linnert beside him, questioned Faye Elms about her discovery.

  “How did you find this stuff?” the detective asked. “We searched for hours on two different occasions and with sophisticated equipment, and found nothing.”

  Elms pointed to a shed at the rear of her property and stated happily, “In there.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Detective Linnert exclaimed. “We searched in there. Where was it?”

  “Come into the shed. I’ll show you exactly where this stuff was hidden.”

  Weir turned to Cawn. “I want you and Carl to come along. We’ll need pictures of that, too.”

  Inside the shed Faye pointed to an electrical wall box with the cover off. She told them the jewels were jammed inside. The electrical box was situated about one foot above the floor, on the east wall of the shed, near a sink. As the investigators examined the whole setup, Elms handed them a metal cover that belonged to the wall box.

  “The big question in my mind,” Detective Linnert said, “are there any other pieces of jewelry stashed somewhere else in this shed? Maybe the Centex Rooney pendant or the garnet one.”

  “Good question, John,” Weir answered. “We’ll comb through the whole place again. Let’s see if there is anything else that we might have overlooked.”

  For the next forty to fifty minutes, the sheriff’s people checked through and looked over, into and under everything, every nook of the Elms shed, but they found nothing additional.

  Deputy Sandy Cawn and Sergeant Carl Head continued taking pictures inside the shed, and then endless shots outside, including the general surrounding property, for future reference and evidence. Upon completion of their work, the crime scene specialists took the packaged jewelry and returned to OCSD headquarters, where they turned it in to the evidence department and wrote up their report.

  Still at the Elmses’ property, Detectives Weir and Linnert took a detailed statement from Faye Elms.

  “I got home about five-thirty,” she began. “I cooked dinner and Angel, the kids and I ate. After dinner I put up some laundry, and since it was still light, thanks to daylight saving time, I did a little yard work.

  “You know, you can never get caught up with everything around a house. I went into the storage shed and I noticed a screwdriver lying on the floor. I didn’t think much about that at first, but then I began to wonder how it was left on the floor. For some reason I looked at that wall box and noticed there were only two of the four screws holding the cover on it. Then I looked at the screwdriver again, and it hit me that something was wrong with the wall box. So I took out the two screws that were holding the cover in place.”

  Elms shook her head. “I couldn’t believe what I saw. There was a paper towel wadded up in there. I pulled it out of the wall box and then I just couldn’t believe my eyes. Sparkling jewelry, diamonds, a ring, a gold chain.”

  Faye Elms recalled that shocking moment. “I didn’t know what to think. I was scared. Then I thought, ‘How in the world could that valuable stuff get into that box?’ And what scared the hell out of me, was that this was in the storage shed on my property. I sure didn’t want to have the police coming to my place, finding this stuff and taking me to jail as a robbery suspect. I figured that the best thing that I could do was call the sheriff’s department and tell that I found this jewelry. And that’s when I called you.”

  “What do you know about this jewelry?” Detective Linnert asked Elms.

  “I told you everything, just as it happened. I don’t know a thing about these pieces of jewelry. I never saw them before.”

  “You’re sure?” Linnert pushed, wanting positive assurance about the pieces.

  “Of course I’m sure. Does it make any sense to you that I would call you to report this stuff if it was mine?”

  “Does it belong to your daughter Angel? She lives here with you,” Linnert persisted. He wanted there to be no question of the ownership of the jewelry.

  “Detective, get this straight,” she snapped. “This jewelry does not belong in this residence to anyone who lives here. Not to me,” she insisted, “not to my daughter Angel, nor anyone that I know of.”

  Detective Linnert pushed further. “Who do you think might have been in this shed recently? Do you recall anyone?”

  Faye Elms stared at the detective and her eyes seemed to glaze.

  “What are you thinking, Ms. Elms?” he persisted.

  “I don’t know if I should even talk about this, because I don’t really know anything. I don’t want to mislead you, and I don’t want to be a mis-informer.” She paused, thinking deeply.

  “Well, tell us what you’re thinking,” Detective Linnert prodded.

  “I really don’t know that this means anything. I don’t know that there is any relationship to the jewelry, but the last few times that my son-in-law was here, he seemed to be in and out of this shed many times.” She hesitated. Now that she had pointed a finger, she seemed to have qualms about whether she should have said anything.

  “Your son-in-law, you mean John Huggins?” Detective Linnert asked calmly, suppressing the elation he felt.

  “Yes.”

  “What did John Huggins do in this shed?”

  “I don’t really know. I didn’t pay that much attention to John. None of us ever pays any attention to John. He’s always working on something that he never talks about.”

  “All right, Ms. Elms. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.”

  Faye Elms was glad that this was over, but she worried about having implicated her son-in-law.

  On Friday morning, July 18, Cam Weir and John Linnert met in the parking area at the sheriff’s department at the Thirty-third Street, Orlando, location, and walked into the building together.

  “It’s going to be another hot one,” Weir remarked.

  “Yeah, we sure could use some rain. It might cool things off a bit. Whatever happened to those nice, gentle afternoon showers that we used to have?”

  “Guess the weather patterns have changed. Well, maybe we’ll get an early hurricane. Isn’t that something to look forward to?” he asked, joking.

  They were at their desks when Jim Larson arrived at the invitation of the detective team. They needed his identification of the jewelry.

  “Thank you for coming in, Jim,” Cameron Weir welcomed.

  “What’s up, fellows?” Larson asked the officers, with whom he was now friendly. He was surprised to see Detective Ron Weyland of the crime scene unit, Sergeant Carl Head and Lieutenant Mike Easton of the major case division all present in this conference room. “It looks like something important is in the wind.”

  “It is,” Weir answered.

  Cameron Weir produced a tray, which he placed on the large oval-shaped table in front of Jim Larson.

  When Larson saw the jewelry spread out on the tray, he was speechless.

  “These were found in a shed on the property of Mrs. Faye Elms,” Detective Weir informed Larson.

  The name Faye Elms meant nothing to Jim Larson, who continued to stare at the tray of jewelry as though mesmerized.

  After Larson’s long study of the items in front of him, Weir asked, “Jim, do any of these pieces look familiar to you? Do you recognize any of them?�
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  Larson nodded and somberly answered, “This looks like the same jewelry that Carla wore.” His eyes softened.

  Linnert and the other officers looked at each other, knowing that the investigation had just moved a gigantic stride ahead.

  “Are you sure? Look again,” Weir asked, not wanting to lead him.

  “That ring,” Jim responded. “I recognize it from the size and the shape. It’s Carla’s.” His head moved closer to the tray of jewelry, his eyes welling with unshed tears. Choking back his emotions, Larson stated, “It appears to be the one I gave Carla.” His voice faded into silence. In a while he added, “When we were engaged to be married.”

  Larson picked up the pair of diamond earrings from the tray. He looked closely at the separate stones that made up the pair, and a faint smile appeared. “These, I know, I gave to Carla.” His eyes blinked as he recalled. “I selected the diamonds for these earrings from a flat of loose stones. After I made the choice, I discovered that there was a difference between the two diamonds. I thought about it but decided that it didn’t matter, that no one would be holding the two earrings together, checking the size of them against each other.”

  He looked around at the several officers and noticed that they were smiling at his explanation.

  Returning to the tray, he picked up the gold chain and said softly, “This looks like the chain that Carla was wearing when she disappeared.” He rubbed his palm over his face at the reminder of what happened to his beloved wife.

  Cam Weir and John Linnert were elated. Finally they had the tie they needed to link John Huggins to Carla Larson, a giant step forward in the murder investigation, making him the prime suspect at last. Following the trail finally paid off. Now they could narrow the investigation and proceed to collect the evidence needed to make their case.

  CHAPTER 17

  “This is great country,” Weir declared, scanning the picturesque setting of the North Carolina wooded area through which he and Linnert were traveling.

  “No argument there. It’s nice to see mountains. And this cool weather is certainly a welcome change,” Linnert replied. “But here we are far from home, still pursuing the details of our case. It’s already July twenty-third and I don’t see us anywhere near the end of our investigation.” He sighed. “It just gets more and more complicated. It’s like the Mississippi, it just keeps rolling along. I guess it goes with the territory.” He laughed. “But I think it would be a little easier if the territory were not so darn big.”

  “Agreed.”

  The Florida detectives arrived at the Lab Corp Center for Molecular Biology and Pathology, where employee Anita Matthews greeted them.

  As he had earlier outlined over the telephone, Detective Weir laid out and explained the packet of jewelry that he and Linnert brought to the lab for their study. The work of the lab, it was hoped, would develop DNA evidence that the Florida department could use or pass on to the state attorney’s office, possibly to be used in trial.

  Ms. Matthews took the items of jewelry, and very carefully and thoroughly swabbed each item separately and completely with a special sterile fluid for the possible removal of any DNA materials that might be present on the jewelry.

  Weir and Linnert watched each step of the operation. Matthews informed them confidently, “Detectives, if there is any DNA present on these pieces of jewelry, you can be sure that we’ll turn it up for you.” She added, “Just wait a minute and I’ll package your items and return them to you.”

  The officers thanked her for her cooperation, and when she gave the package back, they drove off to lunch.

  At the restaurant Weir said, “John, I’m going to call in to Sergeant Corlew and check on the doings back in our bailiwick.”

  “Good, I’ll get us a table,” Linnert replied. When Cam Weir returned to the table, Linnert asked, “What’s wrong? You look like you just dropped five grand in the market.”

  Weir hesitated, then pushed the menu away, no longer interested in food. “I can’t say you won’t believe this, because you certainly will.” He paused, Linnert avidly awaiting his news.

  “The damned press learned about us taking this trip.”

  “No,” Linnert replied.

  “Ron Corlew told me that somehow the press found out about our trip up here to North Carolina and that it was related to the fact that there was a possible suspect in our case.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Linnert swore.

  “It certainly upset everything at headquarters, and after meetings and discussions,” Weir continued, “they made the decision to announce to the media that Huggins was a suspect.”

  “That’s really going to put the pressure on us,” Linnert said.

  Weir nodded. “One good thing,” he added, “no information concerning evidence was released to the news media at that time.”

  “Thank God for small favors.”

  When the news broke that the Orange County investigators were focused on John Huggins as a suspect in the murder of Carla Larson, the media personnel barraged the Seminole County Sheriff’s Department, where he was incarcerated, demanding information, interviews or whatever scraps they could get. But Huggins steadfastly refused to see any of them.

  In a totally unexpected and surprising move, word came to Sheriff Don Eslinger that suspect John Huggins wanted to talk, to be interviewed—but only by reporter Steve Olson of WFTV, Channel 9, in Orlando. Sheriff Eslinger was surprised, but he agreed. He spoke with Olson, advising him that he had authorized permission for the interview.

  The tall, well-built sheriff, in his normal friendly manner, reached across his wide, highly polished desk and shook hands with the popular TV broadcaster, whom he invited into his office to discuss the upcoming interview.

  Sheriff Eslinger explained, “Mr. Huggins asked for you specifically. He won’t talk to any other media people.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that, of course. But I wonder why he chose me,” Olson replied.

  “I don’t know, but whatever his reason, Steve, it’s my hope that you can make your interview with him something truly productive.”

  “Yeah, it would be nice if he decided to confess.” Both men chuckled at the thought.

  Weir and Linnert continued following up on every facet in their investigation. They contacted Daniel Hamilton in Cocoa Beach. He was the man at the site of the burning automobile who saw an “odd” man there. The detectives showed him a photographic lineup they prepared of six pictures, one of which was John Huggins, Number 2.

  “Mr. Hamilton,” Weir requested, “would you please look at these photos and see if you recognize the man you saw at the automobile fire?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Hamilton looked over the lineup very carefully. Finally he picked Number 5. “This looks like him in the face and the hair.”

  “Are you sure?” Linnert asked.

  “Well, that’s the best I can do.”

  The detectives thanked him and left.

  “That was sure disappointing,” Linnert said.

  Weir shook his head regretfully. “Well, it was a long shot at best.”

  On July 21 Detectives Weir and Linnert measured the distance from the car fire in Cocoa Beach to Kevin Smith’s residence, which was two-tenths of a mile away.

  They met with Kevin Smith again at his residence to clarify issues surrounding his discovery of the radar detector. He stated positively that he did not remove it from the Ford Explorer that John Huggins left on his property. Weir encouraged Smith to explain.

  “I don’t know how it got on my water heater, but I assumed that John left it there.” He reluctantly admitted, “I wiped it off with my shirt before I discarded it in the bushes.”

  Linnert asked, “Do you remember where you were on June tenth?”

  “Yes, of course. I was at work.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “I work for Mike’s Lawn Service. My supervisor is Mike Varcadipane, the owner of the company.” He gave the detectives the informa
tion on how to reach his boss.

  Weir and Linnert arranged to meet with Varcadipane at a Burger King in Melbourne. When asked about Kevin Smith’s schedule on June 10, he verified that Smith worked that day from 7:30 A.M. until 5:00 P.M.

  After the meeting Weir said to Linnert, “Well, I guess that sheds a little favorable light on Kevin Smith.”

  Following up on Angel Huggins’s information about John Huggins abandoning the Ford Explorer at the Courtyard on the Green in Melbourne, the detectives met with the manager of the complex and the maintenance supervisor. The officers learned that because of a recent change in management, they only recently started to track abandoned cars found on the property. That tracking only began on June 19, 1997, so there was no record of an abandoned Ford Explorer found at the complex.

  The next day, Weir and Linnert took their photo lineup to show to Milton Johnson. He was one of the first to see the man in the Ford Explorer coming out of the woods on June 10. Johnson scrutinized the photos of the six men but was unable to identify the man he saw in the vehicle.

  As they drove away, Weir commented, “Sometimes eyewitnesses are not the best evidence in a case.”

  Linnert nodded in agreement.

  TV broadcaster Steve Olson went to the Seminole County Jail on July 25 and entered the room provided for the interview. It was a small, bare room with stark white walls, furnished with only a table and several chairs. There were two deputies present with Olson. With all the equipment set up, Huggins was brought into the room in handcuffs, wearing the jailhouse navy blue jumpsuit.

  Olson later described the scene. “When he came in, he was dressed in a Seminole County Jailhouse coverall and his hair looked like a bad case of sleeping on a jail bunk.” He was overweight and had a ruddy, jowly face, Olson observed, and his eyes were wary. He was unshaven and his complexion was dotted with tiny blackheads.

  As they spoke, Olson felt that Huggins was pumping him to find out more about the case against him as strongly as Olson was hoping for a confession.

  Huggins was soft-spoken, sitting quietly, seemingly calm. Steve Olson stated flatly, “He never did confess.”