Gone but Not Forgotten (1993), page 16
The detectives believed that Sandra Lake discovered the note and wa s killed by her husband so she would not connect him to the disappearance s when the notes were made public. they also believed Melody saw he r mother killed and was murdered because she was a witness."
"Was there a problem with the time that Peter Lake reported the murder s to the police?"
"Yes. Peter Lake told the police that he discovered the bodies righ t after he entered the house, that he sat down on the steps for a while , in shock, then called 911.
The 911 call came in at eight-fifteen, but a neighbors who lived nea r the Lakes, saw Peter Lake arrive home shortly after seven-twenty. Th e task force members believed it took Lake fifty-five minutes to repor t the murders because the victims were alive when Lake got home."
"Was there anything else that implicated Lake?"
"A man named Henry Waters worked for a florist.
His truck was seen near the Escalante house on the day she disappeared.
Waters had a sex offender record as a Peeping Tom. The body of Patrici a Cross was found in the basement of Waters's house. She was disemboweled , just like the three Portland women.
"Waters was never really a suspect, but Lake didn't know that. Water s was borderline retarded and had no history of violence. There wasn't an y connection between him and any other victim. Without telling anyone , Lake staked out Waters's house and followed him for days before the bod y of Patricia Cross was discovered."
"What led the police to Waters's house?"
"An anonymous male caller, who was never identified. The task forc e members believed Lake brought Cross to Waters's house, murdered her i n the basement, then made the phone call to the police."
"Why wasn't Lake prosecuted in Hunter's Point?"
"Waters was killed during his arrest. The police chief and the mayo r made a public statement labeling Waters as the rose killer. There wer e no more murders and the cases were closed."
"Why did Detective Gordon come to Portland?"
"When she learned about the Portland notes and roses, she knew the sam e person had to be responsible for the Hunter's Point and Portland crimes , because the color of the rose and the contents of the notes were neve r made public in Hunter's Point."
"Where did Detective Gordon go -after she left your residence?"
"The Lakeview Motel. The manager said she checked in about twent y minutes after leaving my place."
"Have you seen or talked to Detective Gordon since she left you r residence?"
"No. She's disappeared."
"Have you searched her room at the motel?"
Page nodded. "It looked like she was in the midst of unpacking whe n something happened. When she was at my place, she had an attache cas e with a lot of material relating to the case. It was missing. We -als o found the address of the construction site where the bodies were foun d on a pad next to the phone."
"What conclusion do you draw from that?"
"Someone called her with the address."
"What do you believe happened then?"
"Well, she had no car. We've checked all of the taxi companies. None o f them picked her up from the Lakeview. I believe the person who calle d her picked her up."
"No further questions, Your Honor."
Betsy smiled at Page, but he did not smile back. He looked grim and sa t stiffly, back straight, with his hands folded in his lap.
"Mr. Page, there was a lengthy investigation in Hunter's Point, wasn't there?"
"That's what Detective Gordon said. "I assume you've read the polic e reports from that investigation."
"No, I haven't", Page answered, shifting uncomfortably on his seat.
"Why is that?"
"I don't have them."
"Have you ordered them from Hunter's Point?"
"No."
Betsy's brow furrowed. "If you're planning on having Detective Gordo n testify, you'll have to produce her reports."
"I know that."
"Is there a reason you haven't ordered them?"
Page colored. "They've been misplaced."
"Excuse me?"
"The Hunter's Point police are looking for them. The reports wer e supposed to be in a storage area, but they aren't. We think Detectiv e Gordon may know where they are, because she gave me some items-includin g Peter lake's fingerprint card-we assume came from the file."
Betsy decided to switch to another topic.
"On direct examination, you repeatedly said, "The task force member s believed Have you talked to these task force members?"
"No, other than Detective Gordon."
"Do you even know where they are?"
"I just learned that Frank Grimsbo is the head of security at Marli n Steel."
"Where is his office located?"
"Albany, New York."
Betsy made a note.
"You haven't talked to Grimsbo?"
"No."
"What are the names of the other detectives?"
"Besides Gordon and Grimsl)o, there was a criminalist named Gle n Michaels and another detective named Wayne Turner."
Betsy wrote down the names. When she looked up Page was stone-faced.
"Mr. Page, isn't it true that you have no support for the story you r mysterious visitor told you?"
"Other than what the detective said, no."
"What detective?"
"Nancy Gordon."
"This was the first time you saw this woman, correct?"
Page nodded.
"Have you ever seen a photograph of Nancy Gordon?"
"No."
"So you can't say that the person who introduced herself as Detectiv e Nancy Gordon is really Nancy Gordon, can you?"
"A Nancy Gordon works for the Hunter's Point Police Department."
"I don't doubt that. But we don't know that she is the person wh o visited you, do we?"
"No."
"There's also no proof that this woman is dead or even a victim of fou l play, is there?"
"She's missing."
"Was there blood found in her room?"
"No."
"Or signs of a struggle?"
"No," Page answered grudgingly.
"Were there any witnesses to the murders of Melody and Sandra Lake?"
"Your client may have witnessed the killings," Page answered defiantly.
"You have nothing but theories propounded by your mystery woman t o support that position."
"That's true."
"Isn't it also true that the chief of police and the mayor of Hunter's Point officially declared Henry Waters to be the murderer of all th e women?"
"Yes."
"That would include Sandra and Melody Lake?"
"Yes."
"Which would make Mr. lake-Mr. Darius-a victim, wouldn't it?"
Page did not answer and Betsy did not force him to.
"Mr. Page, there were six victims in Hunter's Point, including a six-year-old girl. Can you think of any reason why a responsible publi c official would close a case like that and publicly declare an individua l to be the killer, if there was any possibility that the murderer wa s still at large?"
"Maybe the officials wanted to allay the fears of the community."
"You mean the public announcement might be part of a ruse to make th e killer lower his guard while the investigation continued?"
"Exactly."
"But the investigation didn't continue, did it?"
"Not according to Detective Gordon."
"And the murders stopped after Mr. Waters was killed, didn't they?"
"Yes."
Betsy paused and looked directly at judge Norwood.
"No further questions, Your Honor."
"Mr. Highsmith?" judge Norwood asked.
"I have nothing further of Mr. Page."
"You can step down, Mr. Page."
Page stood slowly. Betsy thought he looked tired and defeated. She too k satisfaction in this. Betsy did not enjoy humiliating Page-he seemed a decent sort-but Page deserved any pain she inflicted. It was clear h e had arrested Martin Darius on the flimsiest evidence, made him spen d several days in jail and slandered him. A public defeat was a smal l price to pay for that kind of callous disregard of his public duty.
"Any other witnesses?" the judge asked.
"Yes, Your Honor. Two, both brief," Highsmith answered.
"Proceed."
"The State calls Ira White."
A chubby man in an ill-fitting brown suit hurried forward from the bac k of the courtroom. He smiled nervously as he was sworn. Betsy guessed h e was in his early thirties.
"Mr. White, what do you do for a living?" Randy Highsmith asked.
"I'm a salesman for Finletter Tools."
"Where is your home office?"
"Phoenix, Arizona, but my territory is Oregon, Montana, Washington , Idaho and parts of Northern California, near the Oregon border." Wher e were you at two p.m. on October eleventh of this year?"
The date rang a bell. Betsy checked the police reports. Victoria Mille r was reported missing that evening.
"In my room at the Hacienda Motel," White said.
"Where is that motel located?"
"It's in Vancouver, Washington."
"Why were you in your room?"
"I just checked in. I had a meeting scheduled for three and I wanted t o unpack, take a shower and change out of my traveling clothes."
"Do you remember your room number?"
"Well, you showed me a copy of the ledger, if that's what you mean."
Highsmith nodded.
"It was 102."
"Where is that located in relation to the manager's office?"
"Right next to it on the ground floor."
"Mr. White, at approximately two p.m. did you hear anything in the roo m next to yours "Yeah. There was a woman yelling and crying."
"Tell the judge about that."
"okay," white said, shifting so he could look up at judge Norwood. "I d idn't hear anything until I got out of the shower. That's because th e water was running. As soon as I turned it off, I beard a shriek, lik e someone was in pain. It startled me. The walls in that motel aren't thick. The woman was begging not to be hurt and she was crying, sobbing.
It was hard to hear the words, but I'd catch a few. I could hear he r crying, though."
"How long did this go on?"
"Not long."
"Did you ever see the man or the woman in the next room?"
"I saw the woman. I was thinking of calling the manager, but everythin g quieted down. Like I said, it didn't last long. Anyway, I dressed for m y appointment and I left around two-thirty. She was coming out at the sam e time."
"The woman in the next room?"
White nodded.
"Do you remember what she looked like?"
"Oh, yeah. Very attractive. Blonde. Good figure."
Highsmith crossed over to the witness and showed him a photograph.
"Does this woman look familiar?"
White looked at the photograph. "That's her."
"How certain of that are you?"
"Absolutely positive."
"Your Honor," Highsmith said, "I offer State's exhibit thirty-five, a photograph of Victoria Miller."
"No objection," Betsy said.
"No further questions," Highsmith said.
"I don't have any questions for Mr. White," Betsy told the judge."
You're excused, Mr. White," judge Norwood told the witness.
"State calls Ramon Gutierrez."
A neatly-dressed, dark-skinned young man with a pencil-thin mustach e took the stand.
"Where do you work, sir?" Randy Highsmith asked.
"The Hacienda Motel."
"That's in Vancouver?"
"Yes."
"What's your job there?"
"I'm the day clerk."
"What are you doing in the evenings?"
"I'm in college at Portland State."
"What's your field of study?"
"Premed."
"So you're working your way through?" Highsmith asked with a smile.
"Yes."
"That sounds tough."
"It isn't easy."
"Mr. Gutierrez, were you working at the Hacienda on October eleventh o f this "Yes."
"Describe the layout of the motel."
"It's two stories. There's a landing that goes around the building o n the second floor. The office is at the north end on the ground floor , where we have the rooms."
"How are the rooms numbered on the ground floor?"
"The room next to the office is 102. The one next to that is 103 and s o on."
"Have you brought the check-in sheet for October eleventh?"
"Yes," Gutierrez said, handing the deputy district attorney a large , dull-yellow ledger page.
"Who was checked into Room 102 that afternoon?"
"Ira White from Phoenix, Arizona." Highsmith turned his back to th e witness and looked at Martin Darius.
"Who was checked into Room 103?"
"An Elizabeth McGovern from Seattle."
"Did you check in Ms. McGovern?"
"Yes."
"At what time?"
"A little after noon."
"I am handing the witness State's exhibit thirty-five.
Do you recognize that woman?"
"That's Ms. McGovern."
"You're certain?"
"Yeah. She was a looker," Gutierrez said sadly.
'-Then, I saw her picture in the Oregonian. I knew her right away."
"To what picture are you referring?"
"The picture of the murdered women. Only it said her name was Victori a Miller."
"Did you call the district attorney's office as soon as you read th e paper?"
"Right away. I talked with Mr. Page."
"Why did you call?"
"It said she disappeared that night, the eleventh, so I thought th e police might want to know about the guy I saw. , "What guy?"
"The one who was in the room with her."
"You saw a man in the room with Mrs. Miller?"
"Well, not in the room. But, I saw him go in and come out. He'd bee n there before."
"With Mrs. Miller?"
"Yes. Like once or twice a week. She would register and he would com e later." Gutierrez shook his head.
"What I couldn't figure out is, if he wanted to sneak around, why did h e drive that car?"
What car?"
"This fantastic black Ferrari."
Highsmith searched for a photograph among the exhibits on the clerk's desk, then handed it to the witness.
"I'm handing you State's exhibit nineteen, which is a photograph o f Martin Darius's black Ferrari and I ask you if it looks like the ca r driven by the man who went into the room with Mrs. Miller?"
"I know it's the car."
"How do you know?"
Gutierrez pointed at the defense table. "that's Martin Darius, right?"
"Yes, Mr. Gutierrez."
"He's the guy."
"Why didn't you tell me about Victoria Miller?" Betsy asked Marti n Darius as soon as they were alone in the visiting room.
"Calm down," Darius said patiently.
"Don't you tell me to calm down," Betsy responded, infuriated by he r client's icy composure. "Damn it, Martin, I'm your lawyer. Don't yo u think I would find it interesting that you were screwing one of th e victims, and beat her up, the day she disappeared?"
"I didn't beat up Vicky. I told her I didn't want to see her anymore an d she became hysterical. She attacked me and I had to control her.
Besides, what does my fucking Vicky have to do with getting bail?"
Betsy shook her head. "This could sink you, Martin.
I know Norwood. He's straight-laced. Real old-fashioned.
The guy's been married to the same woman for forty years and goes t o church on Sunday. If you'd told me, I could have softened the impact."
Darius shrugged. "I'm sorry," he said, without meaning it.
"Were you having sex with Laura Farrar or Wendy Reiser?"
"I hardly knew them."
"What about this party for the mall?"
"There were hundreds of people there. I don't even remember talking t o Farrar or Reiser."
Betsy leaned back in her seat. She felt very uncomfortable alone wit h Darius in the narrow confines of the visiting room.
"Where did you go after you left the Hacienda Motel?"
Darius smiled sheepishly. "To a meeting at Brand, Gates and Valcrof t with Russ Miller and the other people working on the advertising fo r Darius Construction. I'd just seen to it that Russ was put in charge o f the account.
I guess that won't work anymore."
"You are one cold son-of-a-bitch, Martin. You screw Miller's wife, the n throw him a bone. Now you're joking about her when she's been murdered.
Dr. Gregg said she could have been alive for hours, sliced open, in th e most godawful pain. Do you know how much she must have suffered befor e she died?"
"No, Tannenbaum, I don't know bow much she suffered," Darius said, th e smile leaving his face, "because I didn't kill her. So how abou t spreading a little of your sympathy in my direction? I'm the one who's being framed. I'm the one who wakes up every morning to this jail stenc h and has to eat the slop that passes for food."
Betsy glared at Darius and stood up. "Guard!" she shouted, pounding o n the door. "I've had enough of you for today, Martin."
"Suit yourself The guard bent down to put the key in the lock.
"The next time we talk, I want the truth about everything. And tha t includes Hunter's Point."
The door opened. As Darius watched her walk away, the thinnest smil e creased his lips.
Chapter Thirteen.
International Exports was on the twenty-second floor of the Firs t Interstate Bank Tower in a small suite of offices tucked away in a corner next to an insurance company. A middle-aged Hispanic woman looke d up from her word processor when Reggie Stewart opened the door. Sh e looked surprised, as if visitors were an uncommon sight.
Moments later, Stewart was seated across the desk from Manuel Ochoa, a well-dressed, heavy-set Mexican with a swarthy complexion and a bushy , salt-and-pepper mustache.
"This business with Martin is so terrible. Your district attorney mus t be insane to arrest someone so prominent. Certainly there is no evidenc e against him?" Ochoa said as be offered Stewart a slender cigarillo.
