Chapter 6 chapter Five

There was a United direct flight from LaGuardia to Cleveland at 1:45, arriving at 2:59.I packed a clean shirt, a few extra pairs of socks, and a book I read on the plane in my suitcase, and took a taxi to the airport.I was early, but after I had eaten at the cafeteria, finished reading Time, and called Elaine, there wasn't much time left. The plane took off on time and arrived at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport five minutes earlier than scheduled.Hertz had my Ford ready, and the clerk handed me a map showing my route to Massillon in yellow highlighter.I followed the route she guided and arrived at my destination in less than an hour.On the way, it suddenly occurred to me that driving is something that I will never forget after I learn it, because in the past few years, I have hardly driven a car a few times, and unless I have memory problems, I have not driven for at least a year.Last October, Jane Keene and I rented a car and drove to the Amish settlement near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to enjoy the changing colors of the fall foliage, country inns, and Dutch cooking in Pennsylvania.The vacation started out okay, but we had problems by then, and I think the vacation was probably an attempt to fix our problems.Expectations were too high for a five-day vacation in the country to sort things out.And it did, and on the return trip, not only were we sullen and disgusted with each other, but we both knew it was over, not just the vacation.

Massillon's police headquarters is located in a modern building on Temont Street in the center of the city.I parked the car in a parking lot down the street, went into the police station and asked the front desk officer to help me find an officer Havlicek.Havlicek is a stocky build with a light brown crew cut and a belly and chin that suggest he is overweight.He wore a brown suit and tie with brown and gold stripes, a wedding ring on one finger and a Masonic ring on the other. He has an office of his own, with pictures of his wife and children on the desks and framed awards from civic groups on the walls.He asked me what I put in my coffee and brought it to me.

"When you called in the morning, I had three things mixed up on my hand. Let me think about it. Are you from the New York City Police Department?" "Previously." "Now a private detective?" "Working at the Reliable Detective Agency." I handed him my business card, "but this time it has nothing to do with the detective agency, and I don't have any clients. I came here because I thought the murder at the Sturtevant family, It may have something to do with a case I worked on before." "how long ago?" "Twelve years ago."

"While you were still at the police station?" "That's right. I arrested a guy at the time. He had a history of violently threatening women. He shot me a few times with a . The sentence was shorter than I thought he deserved. He got into some trouble in jail though, so he didn't get out until four months ago." "You must think it a pity to let him out." "The warden at Dannemora Prison says he killed two cellmates and may be a suspect in two other cellmate murders." "Then why is he still free to roam the streets?" he asked himself. "There is a great difference between knowing that someone has done something and being able to prove that he did it. The gap. This kind of contradictory situation may only be more difficult to choose in the state prison." He shook his head and took a sip of coffee. "But how on earth did he get involved with Philip Sturtevant and his wife? Their worlds don't seem to fit with that fellow's."

"Mrs. Sturtevant, who lived in New York before her marriage, was the victim of violent coercion by Motley." "That's his name? Motley?" "James Leo Motley. Mrs. Sturtevant, then Miss Cooperman, who gave an affidavit against Motley for assault and blackmail, swore after sentencing that he would make her equal .” "Pretty weak evidence. Just that? Twelve years ago." "That's about it." "She just gave testimony to the police?" "There was another lady who did the same thing, and he threatened her as well. She got this in the mail yesterday." I showed him the newspaper clipping, which was actually the one I received, but I Think this shouldn't make any difference.

"Oh, yes," said he. "It's in the Evening Chronicle." "The newspaper clippings came directly in an envelope with no return address on the letter, but it was postmarked in New York." "The postmark is New York, which does not necessarily mean that it was sent in New York, but that the letter was sent to New York." "That's right." He thought about it carefully. "Well, now I understand why you think this is worth the flight," he said, "but I still don't understand why this Mr. Motley of yours is responsible for what happened at Walnut Slope the other day. Unless he can broadcast hypnosis on the radio, and Sturtevant can pick it up with his teeth."

"Is the situation at the scene obvious?" "It does look obvious. You want to see the murder scene?" "is it okay?" "Why not. I don't know where we put the house key. I'll look for it and take you there." Studevant's house is located at the end of a dead-end alley, and along the whole alley are luxurious mansions covering an area of ​​more than half an acre. It is full of evergreen trees, and the border of the industry is a row of birch trees. Havlicek parked the car in the driveway and opened the front door with the key.We entered through the porch into the spacious living room, topped with a beamed cathedral ceiling and a long fireplace that stretched across the wall and appeared to be constructed of the same stone as the exterior of the house.Plain broadloom rug throughout the living room, with oriental felt scattered across the rug, one long felt placed in front of the fire, with a chalk-drawn figure of a human figure with its legs stretched over the plain rug superior.

"He's just laying there," Havlicek said. "We presume that when he hung up the phone and walked over to the fire, you can see there's a gun rack, and he kept a .22 for deer hunting." caliber rifle, and a twelve-gauge shotgun that he killed himself in. Of course, in addition to the shotgun, we also took the other two rifles for safety reasons. He was supposed to be standing there, put the shotgun barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. You can still see the wreckage from that shot, blood, bone fragments and stuff. It's been disposed of now for hygiene reasons Some, but we have file photos if you want to see it."

"That's where he fell. Was he face up when he fell?" "Yes. The gun fell next to him, almost where you imagined. Don't you think this place smells like a morgue? Come on, I'll take you to see other people's mortuaries." Little children were killed in their beds.They each had their own room, and in each room I had to see blood-soaked mattresses and a chalk-drawn human figure, each smaller than the other.A kitchen knife was found in the bathroom of the master bedroom.The three children and their mother were all killed by the same knife, and Connie Sturtevant lay dead in this master bedroom.Bloodstains on the mattress showed she was killed on the bed, but a chalked human figure was on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"We speculate that he stabbed her to death in the bed," Havlicek said, "and then threw her on the floor. She was wearing pajamas, so obviously she was asleep, or in bed and ready to go to sleep." "What's Sturtevant wearing?" "Robe." "Slippers on your feet?" "Barefoot, I guess, we can go to the pictures. Why ask?" "Just wanted to know what's going on. Which phone did he call you from?" "I don't know. There are extensions all over the house. No matter which phone he was using at the time, he hung up the phone after he finished talking."

"Did you find the bloody fingerprints on which phone?" "No." "Does he have blood on his hands?" "Studivant? God, he's covered in blood. He's blowing up his most important organs in the living room, and there's going to be a lot of blood." "I know, is it all his own blood?" "What are you trying to say? Oh wait, I know what you're thinking. You mean he should have their blood on him." "They did appear to have lost a lot of blood, and it's not difficult to imagine that he must have had their blood spattered on him as well." "There's blood in the tub in the bathroom, he must have washed his hands there. As for the indelible blood on him, say, on his dressing gown, well, I don't know, I don't even know if I can tell the difference between their blood , as far as I know, they may all be of the same blood type." "There are other tests these days." He nodded in agreement, "For example, comparing DNA. Of course I knew that, but I didn't feel the need for this kind of comprehensive forensic analysis at the time. I know what you mean now. If he only has his own blood on him, then How could he kill so many people without getting his hands dirty? But he did get his hands dirty and we found where he was trying to clean them." "So there must be foreign blood on him." "The so-called foreign blood is not his own blood. Why? Oh, because we already know that he has blood on his body, so he wants to wash it, but no matter how much we wash it, it can't be completely washed, so if we put it on his hands or clothes If you can’t find your family’s blood on the Internet, but find their blood in the bathtub, it means that the murderer is someone else.” He frowned and thought, “If there were any false clues at the murder scene, if there was any reason for us to suspect this Murder is not what it appears to be, hey, we're definitely going to look at all the evidence more carefully. But it's not like I'm going to argue, man, he called us himself and admitted he did these things, and when we got the car to his house, He's dead. When you hear the killer's confession and find out that he committed suicide, Cha's willingness is not so high." "I understand." I said. "I haven't seen any evidence today that would change my mind either. You look at the padlock on the front door, which we put on later because when we got to the scene we had to break it to get in. He had Put on the chain, as most people do at night before going to bed." "The murderer may have exited by another door." "The same goes for the back door, which is bolted from the inside." "He could go out the window and close the window from the outside, so it shouldn't be too difficult. Sturtevant may have been dead when the murderer called you. Do you have automated telephone recordings at your headquarters?" "No. We only record but not record. Do you all record in New York?" "Calls to 911 will be recorded." "Too bad he didn't commit the crime in New York," he said, "otherwise there would be a record, like a dentist who can tell what everyone had for breakfast. I'm afraid we're more out of date here." "I didn't say that." He pondered for a moment. "No," he said, "I don't think you said that." "The New York precincts don't record calls either, at least when I was there. And they only record calls when the operator can't handle it. I didn't come here to make a comparison between town and country, sir, sir. In fact, I think there is one very big difference between you and New York, you are very polite and helpful to me, if a policeman from out of town or someone who was a policeman, went to New York Ask someone to help, and make sure you get rejected everywhere." He didn't say a word at the time, and when he returned to the living room, he said: "I think it might be a good idea to record the incoming calls, and it would not be difficult to implement. In this case, it would be a good idea for us to do so." What's the benefit? You mean the voiceprint test? But to do this, you must first have Studevant's recordings before you can compare them." "Does he have an answering machine? Maybe he left a tape of the call." "Probably not, it's not popular in our part of the world. Of course, he probably left a sound recording somewhere, like a home video camera or something. I'm not sure if that kind of recording can be used for sound It’s not a comparison, but you can try it.” "If you had taped that call," I said, "at least one thing would be easy to determine, and you'd know if it was Motley." "Well, yes," he said, "we didn't think of that at all, but when you have a suspect in mind, it's a different story. If the call was recorded and the voiceprint was the same as Motley's, You probably want to send him to the guillotine?" "Wait till we get a new governor." "That's true. Your governor has always opposed the death penalty, right? But from another perspective, you can calm down the murderer." He shook his head. "Speaking of voiceprints, you might think we didn't look for fingerprints?" "Why are you looking for fingerprints? This case seems so obvious." "If there are many doubts in the case, we usually conduct a series of routine searches. Unfortunately, we did not collect fingerprints." "I don't think Motley will leave fingerprints." "Having said that, it's better to look it up. I could send a group over now, but there's been too many people coming in and out of here by now, and we might not have much luck. And, to do that It's like reopening the case, and I have to be honest, you didn't give me a good reason," he stuck his thumb in his belt and looked at me, "You really think he did it?" "That's right." "Can you produce any definite evidence? Newspaper clippings and a New York postmark in the mail. Suggestions, but not enough to change the opinion of the case here." I was still thinking about it when we left that house.Havlicek closed the door and clicked the padlock.The weather had turned cooler, and the birches cast long shadows on the lawn.I asked him when the murder happened and he said it was Wednesday night. "So it's been a week since it happened." "Actually, it was still a few hours away. The call came in around midnight. If you think it's important, I can tell you the exact time, because like I said, we have records." "I just want to know the date," I said. "There's no date on the clipping. I guess it was in the Thursday evening paper." "Yes, there will be follow-up reports in the next day or two, but there is actually nothing to watch. Because no new clues have been found, there is nothing to write in the newspapers. Everyone is very surprised, and they can't see him at all. Like the kind of guy who's been under so much pressure. So what's in the papers is just street rumors." "What anatomical studies do your forensic staff do here?" "The director of the pathology department of the hospital helped us conduct the examination. I don't think he did any research. At most, he just looked at the corpse and confirmed that the wounds were consistent with what we speculated." "Is the body still in your hands?" "Should still be there. I don't think they have any idea which department the body should go to. What's going on in your mind?" "I'm just wondering if the doctor has checked the semen reaction." "My God, you think he raped her?" "It's possible." "But there was no sign of any struggle." "Well, he's quite strong, and she probably won't be able to fight back. You just mentioned the definite evidence. If the laboratory can find semen and find that the sperm is not from Studevant, then—" "Then that's definitive evidence, isn't it? Maybe it can be compared to the suspect you said. Honestly, I wouldn't apologize for it even if I didn't think to ask them to do that kind of examination. Really. Even if I were killed, I wouldn’t think of such a thing.” "If the body is still with you—" "You can get a forensic examination now. I plan to do that. I guess she won't run to the shower for a few days." "I think so." "Well, let's see," he said, "and see if we can find him before the doctor comes home from get off work for supper. Jesus, he's a depressing business. Police work is bad enough, but I'm fine with it, aren't I?" He patted his belly with his hand and smiled wryly. "Come on," he said, "we might be lucky." The pathologist is off work. "He'll be here at eight o'clock tomorrow morning," Havlicek said. "You said you were going to stay the night, didn't you, Matthew?" The two of us have now called each other brothers by first name, and I said that I have booked a plane to leave the next afternoon. "The Great Western has the best lodging service," he said, "on Lincoln Road, east of town, and if you like Italian, don't miss Padula's, it's on First Street, that motel just now The restaurant is also good. I have a better idea, I'll call home first and see if my wife can prepare an extra dinner for one." "You're being too polite," I said, "but I beg your pardon, I only slept about two hours last night and I'm afraid I'll fall asleep at the dinner table. How about I treat you to lunch tomorrow instead?" "We'll quarrel about whom we invite, but it's a deal. Would you like to come with me to the doctor early in the morning? Is eight too early?" "Eight o'clock is just right." I retrieved the car from the parking lot and drove to the motel he suggested.I asked for a room on the second floor, and after taking a shower, I turned on the TV to watch CNN news.The hotel has cable TV with thirty channels.After watching the news, I played with the channel selector and found a professional boxing match that I had never heard of.The two Hispanic light middleweights took an insane amount of time wrestling each other.I just kept staring at the screen until suddenly I realized I wasn't paying attention at all, so I went to the restaurant and had a veal steak, baked potatoes and coffee before going back to my room. I called Elaine.At first it was her answering machine that left the message, but after I gave my name, she switched off the answering machine and picked up the receiver.She said she was all right and sat waiting in her fortress.So far, no strange calls or emails have been received.I told her what I did today, and I was going to see the pathologist tomorrow morning to check the semen reaction. "Remind him to check the anus," she said. We talked for a while later and she sounded normal.I told her I would call her back when I got back to New York.After hanging up the phone, I picked up the TV channel selector again, but I couldn't find a program that attracted me. I took out the book I brought with me in my suitcase, it was written by Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius, and it was introduced by Jim Faber, my counselor at Alcoholics Anonymous, when he quoted Some pretty funny words.Then one day when I passed the bookstore, I went in and found a used book from the contemporary book series for only a few bucks.I read this book very slowly. I like some of his ideas very much, but I often can't fully understand his exposition. Once I encounter words that resonate with me, I will put the book aside and spend half an hour Think carefully about this sentence for an hour or more. This time I read about a page or two, and came across the following lines: "If you look carefully, you will see that everything happens just as it should." I closed the book on the table beside me and tried to imagine the events that had happened at Sturtevant's house a week earlier.I can't determine the order in which Motley killed people, but for the convenience of the whole reasoning process, I think his first target may be Studevant, because Studevant is the most likely person in the family to pose a threat. However, the sound of shotgun fire is likely to wake up neighbors.So, he probably went to the children's room first, and went down the corridor one by one, killing the two little boys and the little girl in succession. And then Connie?No, he must have left her for last, and went to the bathroom in the master bedroom to wash.Suppose he immobilized her first, put her husband on the point of a gun or a knife, went into the living room, killed him with shotgun, and then came back to deal with Connie and rape her at the same time?If a semen reaction can be found a week after the incident, I'll know all about it tomorrow. He dialed the phone, then quickly cleaned up the fingerprints around the room, and finally left quietly and neatly through the window, feeling relaxed.A total of five people died, including three children.A family is destroyed like this, all because a woman gave a testimony twelve years ago, accusing a man of raping her. I thought about Connie, call girls don't have to be miserable, at least in the way she and Elaine are.They have an apartment on the east coast, and their clients are all managers.But she chose to try a better way of life and live in a house in Walnut Slope. And then it's all over.But, for goodness sake, the way it ended... "If you observe carefully, you will see that everything happens as it should." Maybe when I really understand this truth, I will feel better in my heart, but I haven't reached that state yet, maybe it's my Observation is not careful enough. I received a morning call from the hotel in the morning, and I checked out after breakfast.At eight o'clock sharp, I called out my name to the officer on duty, who knew I was coming and immediately let me into Havlicek's office. Today he is wearing a gray suit and a striped red and navy tie.He left his seat and went around the table to shake my hand and asked me if I wanted coffee, which I said I already had. "Then let's go and see Dr. Walmus." I expected at least some older houses in Massillon, but almost everything I saw during my short stay was built within the last ten years.The hospital is a new building, the white walls still have traces of new paint, and the floor has been swept clean.We took a silent elevator and walked down the corridor for a while. Havlicek knew the way and I followed him. For some reason, I pictured Dr. Walmus as a grumpy old man past retirement age. He was about thirty-five years old, with shiny blond hair, a tightened jaw, and a cheerful, boyish expression. The face looks like something drawn by illustrator Norman Rockwell.When Havlicek introduced me to him, he held out his hand to shake mine, then stood with the air of courage, as if ready to accept the challenge of the police versus the pathologist.When Havlicek asked if he found any traces of semen or other evidence of recent sexual intercourse on Connie Sturtevant, he expressed unabashed surprise at the question . "My God," he said, "I never thought I should check this." "The case may be more complicated than originally thought," I said. "Is the body still with you?" "of course." "Can you do this test?" "Of course, she can't escape anyway." When he walked to the door, I suddenly remembered Elaine's words, "In addition to the vagina, check the anus." I suggested.He stopped suddenly after taking half a step, but he didn't look back, and I couldn't see the expression on his face. "Okay," he said. Tom Havlicek and I sat and killed the time waiting for him.There is a synthetic resin photo frame on the desk of Walmus, which contains several family photos.When Tom saw it, he told me that Walmus and his wife were on good terms.I was looking at a picture of his wife when Tom asked me if I was married. "It used to be," I said, "and it didn't work out." "Oh, what a pity." "That was a long time ago, and then she remarried. My sons are older now, one is still in school and the other is already working." "Do you still keep in touch with them?" "Less than I'd like." This sentence became a rest.After a moment of silence he spoke again, talking about his children.One girl and one boy, both in high school.From family to police work, we are like a pair of old cops telling our own wonderful stories.We were talking speculatively when Walmus came in with a serious face and said they found traces of semen in Mrs. Sturtevant's anus. "You hit the mark," Havlicek said. Walmus said he didn't expect to find anything. "She showed no signs of resistance," he said, "none at all, no skin tissue in her nails, no bruises of any kind on her hands or arms." Havlicek was anxious to know if it was possible to be sure that the semen belonged to Studivent. "Possibly," said Worms, "I'm not sure, since it's been so long. All I can tell you is that we can't analyze it here, and I want to send all these microscope clips and samples and tissues to Go to Booth Memorial Hospital in Cleveland, where they can do a more sophisticated analysis." "I really want to know the answer." "Me too," said Walmus.I asked him if there was anything else special about the body, and he replied that she appeared to be in good health.I find it strange to describe dead people in this way.I asked him if he saw signs of beating, especially around the sternum. Havlicek asked, "I don't understand, Matthew. What does that bruise mean?" "Motley has very strong hands," I said. "He likes to poke his fingers somewhere on the breastbone." Worms said he didn't see anything unusual about it, but that if the victim died immediately after being abused, the bruises would be less noticeable and the bruises wouldn't change color after a day. "But you can go and see for yourself," he suggested. "Would you like to see?" I really didn't want to see it, but I followed him faithfully down the hall, through the door and into the room.The room was as cold as a meat freezer, and even the door was the same.He led me to a table where a dead body was lying, covered with a clear plastic sheet.He lifted the plastic sheeting. It was Connie.Even if she was alive, I'm not sure I'd recognize her instantly, let alone now that she's dead.But knowing her identity, I can recall how I saw this girl twelve years ago.A feeling of discomfort welled up in my chest, not entirely wanting to vomit, but a kind of sadness from the heart. I wanted to see for signs of a beating, but I just couldn't offend her naked body with my eyes, let alone reach out and touch her.It was better for the trade he was in, that Wormus was free from such a conscience.He unceremoniously pushed away one of her breasts and palpated her chest.His fingers found something. "It's here, see?" he said. I couldn't really see anything and he grabbed my hand and directed it to a certain position.Of course, her body was cold to the touch, and her skin was soft and limp.I knew exactly what he had found: there was one spot where the skin was particularly soft and less elastic, but there was no apparent discoloration. "Inner thigh you say? Let's check it out. Oh yes. I don't know if it's a particularly sensitive painful pressure point. It's not my area of ​​expertise, but it does have trauma. Would you like to see Look?" I shake my head.I really don't want to see the inside of her spread legs, let alone touch them.I don't want to read anything, I just want to leave this room quickly.Havlicek apparently feels the same way.Volmus sensed the atmosphere and sent us back to his office. When he got to the office, he said, "I, uh, checked for a semen reaction on the kids too." "Jesus," Havlicek said. "I didn't find anything," replied Walmus quickly. "I just thought I should look into it too." "It doesn't hurt to do more." "Did you see the knife wound just now?" "How could you not see it?" He hesitated slightly, "That's right. Well, these wounds show that the murderer was stabbed from the front. All three stabs passed through the ribs and pierced the heart. Any one stab could be fatal." "so what?" "How... after he sodomized her, turned her over and then killed her?" "possible." "What was she like when you found her? Lying?" Havlicek recalled, frowning. remnants of the past." "Unable to determine." "It could have happened later, too," I suggested, and they stared at me. "Let's take a guess, she's lying on her back on the bed and he stabs her, then turns her on her back, lifts her pajamas and pulls her off the bed a little bit so he can do his job. He sodomizes her Then he turned her over and pulled off her pajamas, probably in the process she slid off the bed. Then he went into the bathroom to wash himself and wash the knives. That would explain why we couldn't find any obvious signs of resistance, Isn't it? It is unlikely that a person will resist after death." "That's right," Walmus agreed, "and no foreplay will be demanded. I don't know anything about the man you're talking about. Is that consistent with what you know about his behavior? Because I think it's consistent with what we The specific evidence does not contradict it.” I thought back to what he had said to Elaine.He once said that a dead girl is no worse than a living person if the body is still warm. "Consistent." I replied. "Anyway, the guy you're talking about is a beast." "Oh, my God," said Tom Havlicek, "it's not St. Francis who killed those little boys."