The Broken Saint: A Detectives Seagate and Miner Mystery

by Mike Markel

  “Okay, Dr. Gerson, do you wish to make a statement?” I said.

  “Yes, I wish to confess to the murder of Maricel Salizar.”

  “Take us through the events that night.”

  “It was about nine o’clock. Maricel and I had gotten into a fight that evening—”

  “What was the fight about?” I said.

  “For some months, Maricel had been blackmailing me. She wanted to raise the amount. I told her I wouldn’t pay any more than I was already paying.”

  “What was she blackmailing you about?”

  “She was threatening to reveal that she and I were having a sexual relationship.”

  “Was Maricel your daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were having an affair with her?”

  “I just said that.”

  I let the silence hang in the ugly room for a little bit. “I find it hard to believe you were having an affair with your own daughter.”

  “I found it hard to believe, as well. I did not intend it to happen. I intended to help her, to enable her to become a successful and happy person. I arranged for her to come to the United States—and to live in our home—just as I told you. That was true. But seeing her—she reminded me so much of her mother. I don’t expect you to understand what I am saying—and I certainly don’t expect you or anyone else to condone it—but I fell in love with Esperanza all over again. Maricel was vulnerable, and I was helpless to control my feelings for her.”

  “How long had this relationship been going on?”

  “Over a month.”

  “Dr. Gerson, you said she wanted you to pay more. What were you paying her?”

  “I was paying her five-hundred dollars a month. She wanted me to pay her seven fifty.”

  “And what did she say she would do if you didn’t increase the amount?”

  “She said she would reveal the relationship to my wife, to the university, to the Church, and to the police.”

  “And you believed that she would do that?”

  “Yes, I believed that.”

  “Describe the fight you had with Maricel that night.”

  “She had just told me—”

  Ryan spoke. “Excuse me, Dr. Gerson. I need to ask for a quick break. It is 8:41. We are suspending the interview at this point.”

  I looked at Ryan. He didn’t look sick or anything as he stood up, walked over to the wall unit, and stopped the taping.

  “Stay here,” I said to Gerson as I followed Ryan out of the interview room.

  Outside in the hall, I said, “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I want you to let me go back in and interview him solo.”

  “What for?”

  “Trust me. He’ll open up better if it’s just me.”

  “Seems like he’s opening up pretty good as it is.”

  “Karen, please let me do this. I mess this up, I’ll walk back to my desk and fill out my resignation papers.”

  “I have to listen in.”

  “Do whatever you want.”

  I nodded.

  Ryan walked back into the interview room. I went a few paces down the hall, opened the door marked Utility, and walked down the corridor between the two interview rooms. I turned on the speaker, pulled up a stool, and looked through the glass into Interview 1. I flipped open my phone and called the chief’s office. “Margaret, this is Seagate. The chief in? Yeah, good. Please tell him to meet me. I’m looking in on Interview 1. Right away. Thanks.”

  Ryan walked over to the wall unit and switched on the recording equipment. “It is now 8:42 am. Detective Seagate will be unable to participate in the rest of the interview, but she has authorized me to proceed.”

  Gerson nodded.

  “Dr. Gerson, you were about to describe the fight you had with Maricel Salizar the night of the murder.”

  The door opened and the chief came into the corridor. “Catch me up.”

  “The provost turned up ten minutes ago. Said he wanted to confess to killing Maricel.”

  “Motive?”

  “He was screwing her. She was blackmailing him, wanted to up the amount.”

  Dr. Gerson said, “We got into an argument. Andrea was upstairs—she usually goes into the bedroom by nine. But Maricel was threatening me, her voice getting louder and louder. I tried to get her to stop shouting, but I couldn’t.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I picked up a knife. We were in the kitchen. When she saw the knife, she came at me, like she was going to take it away from me. I don’t exactly remember how it happened, but the knife went into her abdomen.”

  “Did you stab her again?”

  “I think I might have, several more times.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I picked her up, carried her into the garage, put her in the trunk of my car, and drove to the Greenpath. I know a place, near where I sit sometimes, where the parking lot comes down close to the path. I checked to see that nobody was looking. It was already quite dark. I carried her to the riverbank and just placed her there.”

  “Why did you carry her down to the river?”

  “When I left the house, I didn’t have the kitchen knife with me. When I lifted her out of the trunk I could tell she was still alive. The only thing I could think of was to drown her. That is what I did.”

  “Dr. Gerson, if you forgot to bring the knife with you, how did you slit her throat?”

  He appeared to flinch. He looked at Ryan. “I forgot to say that I did that at the house, before I drove to the river.”

  I said to the chief, “Her throat wasn’t slit.”

  The chief nodded.

  “Dr. Gerson,” Ryan said. “What are you doing?”

  He looked at Ryan. “I’m confessing to the murder of Maricel Salizar.”

  “You didn’t kill Maricel.”

  He shifted in his seat. “I just confessed to you that I killed her.”

  “Maricel’s throat was not cut. And you forgot to mention that you took her clothes off before dragging her down to the river.”

  Gerson sat there, covering his face with his hands. He began to sob quietly. “Could you turn off the recording equipment, please, Brother Miner?”

  “I didn’t turn it on.”

  “This is all me,” Gerson said. “Don’t you see that I did kill Maricel?”

  “No, you didn’t. You violated the teachings of the Church, and you failed Esperanza and Maricel for many years, but you did not kill her. You tried to do the right thing by helping her. You have confessed your sins, and you are making a sincere effort to repent of them. You are now on a better path, Brother Gerson.”

  “If I am a good soul, why are Esperanza and Maricel dead, and why is Mark battling for his life in the hospital?”

  Ryan shook his head. “You know the answer to that better than I do.”

  “That there is no answer to that? That we cannot know the ways of Heavenly Father?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That’s not good enough. Not good enough anymore,” Gerson said. “Not in this case. Not for me.”

  “What do you hope to accomplish by confessing to Maricel’s murder?”

  He looked at me. “I hope to enable you to close the case.”

  “Mark will not be held liable for her death.”

  He shook his head. “I must be held liable for her death. It came from my actions. I did it. Don’t you understand that?”

  “With Mark’s history of schizophrenia, he’ll be institutionalized. He won’t even be found competent to stand trial. The phrase is ‘mental disease or defect.’”

  “She died because of me. Heavenly Father knows that, even if the police department doesn’t.”

  “You are not thinking clearly, Brother Gerson. You were, before this latest episode with Mark, but you aren’t now. When you admitted your sins, at Maricel’s service, and allowed Christ into your life, you were living the Lord’s will. But your fear is closing you off from H
is love. Because of your fear, you are putting yourself above God.”

  “How can you say that? I am admitting before all the world—and the state judicial system—that I am a miserable sinner, that my actions have led to the death of my daughter and grievous injuries to my son. How can you possibly say that I am exhibiting pride?”

  “Is God so fickle that He will turn on you now? Is His love for you so thin, so tenuous that you are no longer worthy? Do you think so little of the Lord? Can you hate Him that much?”

  “With all due respect, Brother Miner, I am not sure you have earned the right to lecture me on God’s love. I doubt that you have been where I am now.”

  “I understand what you are saying, perhaps better than you realize. I am a sinner. I, too, have violated a sacred trust. I have betrayed the one person to whom I have pledged complete and everlasting fidelity. That betrayal is never far from my thoughts. And it is in all my prayers, and it will be until my last day on earth. But do you think your sin is greater than anybody else’s sins? Your anguish is greater than anyone else’s? Your despair? Are your sins beyond what Christ can redeem? The Lord will not give you the strength to endure your hardships? You are not Satan, Brother Gerson, and you are not God. You are just one of God’s children. I beg you to honor Maricel’s memory. Heal Mark and Andrea. I beg you to love God, and live His love.”

  Chapter 37

  “Yeah, Detectives Seagate and Miner. Could you call the doc on duty for Mark Gerson in 315?”

  While we waited at the nurses’ station, I walked over to look through the glass window. Mark was in four-point restraints. The leather restraints were on his biceps because his wrists were all bandaged up.

  “Karen,” Ryan said.

  I turned and the doctor had arrived.

  “I’m Dr. Davey.” He was about sixty, with a long, hangdog face with liver spots ringing his eyes.

  “Good to meet you,” I said. “What’s the story on Mark Gerson?”

  “He’s medically stable. We started pumping in his schizophrenia meds, and we think they’re starting to take effect. But he’s also on pain meds and a sedative, so he might be kind of groggy. Five minutes, maximum, please.”

  “You bet. Thanks.”

  Ryan and I walked into Mark’s room, which was full of equipment. In the bed, his arms and legs restrained, his color so pale he looked like a stretched-out kid.

  His eyes were half-open. I could see his pupils moving from me to Ryan. “Mark, do you remember us? I’m Detective Seagate, this is my partner, Detective Miner. The doctor said we could talk to you for a couple minutes, okay?”

  He nodded slightly. “I killed her,” he said, his voice low and shaky.

  “How did you do that?”

  His breathing was shallow, and he took a moment to gather his strength. “I drowned her, in the river.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t know.”

  “Were you upset with her?”

  “I don’t remember.” His eyes scanned the room, as if he was unsure where he was.

  “Had she told you something that upset you?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Did she tell you anything about a recent medical procedure?”

  His brows furrowed, like he was starting to remember. “I think so, but I don’t remember.”

  Ryan spoke. “Did she tell you she had had an abortion? A few weeks ago?”

  Mark’s left hand fluttered a little.

  “Do you think that could be it?”

  Mark didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t get a read on whether he was agreeing with Ryan or disagreeing, or even whether he understood.

  “Mark,” Ryan said, “how would it make you feel to learn that Maricel had an abortion?”

  Mark turned his head slightly to the side, like he didn’t want to talk anymore. His two arms pulled against the restraints.

  I looked at my watch. We were over three minutes. I looked out through the blinds into the hall. A nurse stood there, looking in. She was about thirty-five, attractive. Dark hair, and big, dark eyes.

  “Mark,” I said, “if Maricel had an abortion, that would mean she wasn’t your girlfriend?”

  His head turned farther to the side, and then he shut his eyes. He was communicating, but this topic wasn’t going to work for him.

  Ryan touched my arm. I looked at him. Ryan said, “Do you remember being in the meetinghouse yesterday?”

  He turned toward Ryan. “No,” he said. “Why would I be there?”

  “You were in the baptismal font.”

  Mark shook his head, meaning either it wasn’t true, or he didn’t know why he was there.

  Ryan continued. “Did it have something to do with your relationship with Maricel?”

  “I don’t remember anything about that.”

  “You know that when adults are baptized, they are cleansed of their sins. They enter into a covenant with God.” Mark nodded. “Maybe that was what you were doing in the baptismal font yesterday: cleansing yourself of your sins.”

  Mark’s breathing was shallow and labored. “I don’t know.”

  “You were trying to cleanse yourself of your sins,” Ryan said. “You had romantic feelings for Maricel, but then you found out that she was your half-sister. That wasn’t your fault, Mark. You didn’t know you were related.”

  I turned when the nurse entered the room. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That will have to be it for now.”

  I said to her, “Do you have Mark’s things?”

  She pointed to the metal closet in the corner, near the sink. I walked over to it and opened the door. Inside were his white shirt, pants, and tie. They had been cleaned, but the blood stains were still visible. On the shelf at the top were his black plastic watch, his wallet, and some kind of black ring. I picked it up and looked at it. I tried to slip it on a finger. The only one it would fit on was my left pinkie, and it was tight.

  I said to Ryan, “Go flirt with the nurse, okay?”

  Ryan looked puzzled, then nodded and left the room.

  I walked back to Mark’s bed. “Why did you go to the river that night, Mark?”

  “I’m not sure.” He looked confused. “Maricel was arguing downstairs with someone. I looked out my window and saw Jared’s car. Then the arguing stopped. I looked out my window, saw him carrying Maricel toward his car.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “I came downstairs, got in my mom’s car, and followed them.”

  “Where did the car go?”

  “To a house downtown.”

  “Did the two of them go into the house?”

  “Only Jared.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I waited there, a few doors down, in my car. In a few minutes Jared came out of the house, got into his car, and started driving.”

  “And then you followed him?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  “But you ended up at the river.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

  “When you saw Maricel on the ground, near the river, was she hurt? Was she injured?”

  “I don’t know. I think she was sleeping.”

  I held the black ring up to his face. “Do you know what this is?”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t know. It’s Maricel’s.”

  “Did she give it to you?”

  “I think she had it with her, at the river.”

  “Did she have it in a pocket or something? Was she wearing it?”

  “She had it in her hand.”

  “You mean, like this?” I clenched it in my fist.

  He nodded and drifted off to sleep.

  The nurse came back in, looking pissed. Behind her, Ryan shrugged, like he’d done the best he could.

  I held up the black ring. “Ryan, you recognize this?”

  He looked at it, startled. “Yes, I do.”

  Chapter 38

 
; “Let’s move,” I said to Ryan. We rushed out of the hospital. On the way over to Jared Higley’s house, I filled him in on what Mark had just told me.

  Jared’s place was just a few blocks from my own house. It was a Craftsman style bungalow, almost a hundred years old, painted a pale blue with navy wooden shutters. One window was missing a shutter, revealing a darker blue rectangle in its place. A couple of the shutters had busted slats.

  Walking up the brick walkway, I saw bald spots as big as dinner plates on the lawn. I really liked the covered front porch that ran the full width of the house, although I didn’t care for the way Jared and his idiot housemates decorated it with a ratty couch, a rusty grill, and some bikes.

  I rang the doorbell, then heard steps. Amber Cunningham opened the door. She looked flustered.

  “Detectives,” she said.

  “Amber,” I said. “We didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Yeah, this isn’t what it looks like. I just came over to get a few of my things. Let me get Jared.”

  She turned and walked back into the house. I was looking at a cat crouching down in the next yard when I heard her scream.

  Ryan grabbed me, half tackling me as he swept me away from the front door. There were two loud pops, one after the other. I heard Ryan grunt and he started to stagger. He pushed me away as he fell so he wouldn’t land on me. He collapsed onto the painted wooden floor of the porch.

  He had taken the second bullet to his midsection. Curled on his side, he was dragging himself toward the house. He was breathing hard, and I saw the red stain expand across the left side of his white shirt, near his stomach. “You go,” he said. “Cover the back door. I’ll get him if he comes out the front.”

  “No, Ryan, I’m staying—”

  “Go,” he shouted, crawling toward the wall. He grimaced as he pulled his pistol out of the belt holster, which he wore on his right side. “I’m okay.”

  He didn’t look okay. He pushed and pulled himself until he was leaning against the outside wall of the house.

  Just then, Amber came running out of the front door, crying, her hands up.