Dead Down East (38 page)

“The investigator obtained a saliva sample from Susan
St. Claire. The DNA from that sample was compared with the DNA
sample of the bloody shirtsleeve. The two samples indicated that
Susan St. Claire and Justin Cook are siblings. Once we discovered
that, the details of the case quickly fell into place.”

Prichard’s head drooped noticeably as I said
that.

“Now,” I continued, “let’s get back to the case we
have against Susan St. Claire. Unfortunately, it is very weak—too
weak to go to trial. There is no direct evidence that indicates she
was involved. We are certain she masterminded the assassination.
Susan is a hard-hearted woman, driven by greed. Aaron Miller is a
cold-blooded killer. They both deserve to be punished for their
heinous crime. On the other hand, we suspect that you were probably
reluctant to participate. We guess that you were pressured.

“That is why we have come to you first. We are here
to offer you a deal,” I concluded.

I turned to Eric and said, “Agent Cochrane, why don’t
you explain our proposition to Mr. Prichard.”

“Thank you, Detective Thorndyke,” Eric said.

“Mr. Prichard,” Eric began, “the FBI and the District
Attorney for the State of Maine are eager to arrest and convict
Susan St. Claire of premeditated murder. However, without the
testimony of either Aaron Miller or you, there is virtually no
chance that we can get a conviction. We are willing to give up our
case against you, to offer you complete immunity, provided you are
willing to testify truthfully to
all
the facts in this
case.

“No doubt, this will be a difficult decision for you.
We realize that you will not be enthusiastic to testify against
your sister. But the alternative for you is bleak. If you do not
agree to testify, we will make the same offer to Aaron Miller. We
are quite sure he will be willing to cooperate. After all, he is
not family. His testimony will send both you and Susan to prison
and probably the gas chamber. With you out of the way, he could
take over your businesses for himself and make a fortune drilling
natural gas, which is about to break wide open with a new governor
at the helm.

“Either way, we are going to get Susan St. Claire.
The only question is whether she will be convicted of murder along
with Aaron Miller, or with you. We have agents standing by ready to
make the same offer to Mr. Miller if you balk.

“We’d prefer that you accept the offer because Aaron
Miller pulled the trigger. But we will do whatever is necessary to
bring Susan St. Claire to justice.

“There is one other reason why it is important for us
to put Aaron and Susan behind bars. The eyewitness to the murder is
being held in a secret location. Her home was invaded by an armed
man two days ago. Detective Thorndyke, would you show Mr. Prichard
some of the photographs of that home invasion?”

I picked out three of the photos and handed them to
Prichard.

“As you can see,” I said, “someone entered her home a
little after two o’clock on Friday morning. We are quite certain it
was Aaron Miller. We have determined the precise height of the
intruder from the photographs. He is 6’1” tall, which is the same
as Mr. Miller, according to his Maine driver’s license. He also has
the same build. Our eyewitness will not be safe until we lock away
the guilty parties.”

Eric continued, “Our offer to you will expire the
moment you contact a lawyer or any other individual by phone. We
consider Susan a flight risk. We cannot arrest her at this time,
and if she hears about our proposal, she might decide to leave the
country. We can arrest Aaron Miller the moment you phone your
lawyer, but we can’t touch Susan without an agreement from you or
Mr. Miller.

“So, Mr. Prichard, what will it be?” Eric asked
finally. “Are you willing to accept our offer of immunity?”

Mark Prichard stared blankly into space for a time
and then closed his eyes and bowed his head. When he was finished
communing with whomever or whatever, he looked at us one at a time
until his eyes rested on Eric once again. Then he said, “OK. I’ll
accept your deal. I told Susan from the beginning that this was a
bad plan. It was too desperate. But she wouldn’t listen. Damn! She
can be a complete bitch.”

“Brock, we have a canary!”

“Wow, that’s great!” Brock said and then asked in a
hushed tone, “Can we speak freely?”

“Sure,” I replied. “I left Eric and Angele with Mark
Prichard in his house putting the finishing touches on the
agreement. I’m outside enjoying the small town Pennsylvania
ambiance.”

“So it worked?” Brock asked half incredulously.

“Like a Swiss watch,” I replied. “Thanks for your
help, Brock. Is there any chance I can keep the trooper
uniform?”

“None,” Brock replied.

“Let’s see,” he continued, “I’ll have to call this in
and explain it to my superiors. Are the details of the murder
exactly as you figured?”

“I believe so. We’ll send you a PDF file of his
statement as soon as it is edited and signed. All you have to do,”
I said, “is convince the FBI and the State of Maine to go along
with our slight of hand.”

There was a long pause at the other end. Finally
Brock replied. “Right. That’s
all
I have to do.”

His tone was not very encouraging.

“Buck up, Brock,” I said. “It’s true that one of the
conspirators will elude prosecution for the murder of William
Lavoilette. No doubt that will not sit well with the authorities,
but let’s not forget the other murder.”

“Right,” Brock replied tentatively.

“I have a strong suspicion that after Susan and Aaron
are convicted and locked away, they will do some singing of their
own. Remember, Robert St. Claire died under mysterious
circumstances. I’d wager it was murder. Susan and Aaron will be
livid with Mark for turning them in. When the Pennsylvania DA
reopens the case, it will be payback time.”

“I hope you are right,” he replied.

“OK, Brock. I’m going back inside. You’ve got some
selling to do. After you receive Mark Prichard’s signed confession,
you’ll have about eight hours until we’re back at Camp Billy. Good
luck.”

I returned to the living room and found the trio
working out the final details of the agreement. I had written the
combined confession and immunity deal before leaving Maine. All
that Eric and Angele had to do was to tweak it to fit any part of
the crime scenario that I omitted or didn’t get right
beforehand.

We knew full well that a new deal would have to be
drawn up by the genuine authorities. They would have about twenty
hours to get their act together before Brock hauled Mark Prichard’s
ass into the Kennebec County Jail Monday morning.

“How’s it going?” I asked Angele.

“We’re almost done, Detective,” Angele responded.

Within five minutes the agreement was finished and
signed electronically.

I wanted to proofread it before we sent it off in an
email. The details cleared up a few of the nagging questions I had.
For example, I had wondered why Aaron threw the gun and license
plate on the far side of the highway. According to Mark’s
statement, Aaron panicked after the neighbor came out and saw him
standing by his car. The plan had been to kill Cynthia as well, but
Aaron wasn’t about to stick around under the circumstances. He was
afraid that Cynthia, or the guy across the road, might call the
police. He had to dispose of the weapon, the license plate, towel
and beard quickly. He didn’t want any of those items in his car as
he left the island. He was especially concerned that his car might
be identified, and he’d get stopped before he could get away.

Another interesting point was that Susan St. Claire
had initiated a friendly, platonic relationship with Travis
Perkins, but he wouldn’t offer any valuable information about the
governor’s schedule or routine. She had to switch gears and wear
him down in bed before he was willing to tell her about Cynthia and
the governor’s planned trip to his summer home.

Once Susan knew that Cynthia was sleeping with
William, she set in motion her plan to kill him and cast the blame
on Travis. He had the more glaring and obvious motive—revenge.

“Mr. Prichard,” I said, “Let me explain to you the
parameters of our return trip to Maine. You will not be allowed to
contact anyone until we have you safely inside the Kennebec County
Jail. The first thing I need from you is your cell phone.”

He reached into his pocket and handed it to me.

“OK,” I continued. “You will need to pack your
personal belongings. Get together some clothes and toiletries,
enough to last a week. One small suitcase will have to suffice.
Agent Cochrane will remain with you as you gather your things. In
the meantime, I will send your statement to Sergeant Brock Powell,
who is standing by in a temporary facility just outside of Augusta.
He will prepare for our arrival this evening.

“Once you are packed, we will drive there, and we
will all spend the night. Sergeant Powell will transfer you to the
jail on Monday morning. For our safety, you will ride in the back
seat of our car, with a single handcuff to an anchor point. As long
as you cooperate fully, we will not have to put the cuffs on both
hands. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Mark replied.

“All right,” I concluded. “Go ahead and pack your
bag.”

Eric escorted Mark into his bedroom down the hall.
When the door closed, Angele sidled up to me and planted a wet FBI
kiss on my mouth.

“You’re not trying to seduce an officer of the law,
are you?” I whispered.

“You look so sexy in that uniform,” she whispered
back.

That was all the celebration we were willing to risk
at the moment. I attached Mark’s statement as a .PDF file to an
email message and sent it to Brock’s private address. A few minutes
later, Mark returned to the living room with his suitcase in hand
and Eric on his tail.

We left the house and got into our car. Mark sat in
the right rear seat. After he put on his seatbelt, I cuffed his
wrist to the belt by his right side. The grab handle above his head
would have provided a more secure grip, but the thought of his
right arm dangling at the end of a handcuff in the passenger window
was not appealing. We certainly didn’t want to be interviewed by a
highway patrolman about our “prisoner.”

Eric joined him in the back seat. Angele drove the
first shift. When we reached Binghamton, New York, we stopped for
lunch. Drive through would have to do. The positioning of the cuffs
allowed our captive to eat his cheeseburger without too much
trouble.

Other than giving us his lunch order, Mark didn’t say
a word until we were halfway through the state of New York. Just
outside of Oneonta, he started talking. He seemed to be having
second thoughts about implicating his sister.

“It’s Aaron’s fault,” he said. “Susan can be selfish,
sure, but Aaron put ideas into her head. He planned the whole
thing. You should be going after him and leave Susan out of
it.”

“Obviously she was willing,” I said. “She went to bed
with Travis Perkins to extract the information she needed to get to
Governor Lavoilette.”

“Yes, but it’s all because of the damn heroin. Aaron
is an addict. He had smack around the house all the time. At first
Susan wouldn’t touch it, but eventually he got her to try it.
Before long, she had to have it. He put a spell on her. She would
do anything he told her, just to get high. She shouldn’t be going
to prison; she should be in rehab.”

“I’m sure the court will take that into
consideration,” I said. “You will have an opportunity to tell the
whole story to agents in Augusta. The immunity deal you signed in
Troy is binding, but they will go over everything with you in much
greater detail. They’ll prepare a more extensive statement for you
to sign once you give them all the facts.”

Mark retreated into his shell again and stayed there
until we crossed the Pisquataqua River. The Maine air must have
revived his tongue.

“Susan is four years younger than I am,” he said.
“When we were growing up, she was sweet and pretty. I loved her. I
screened all her boyfriends in middle school. There were plenty.
She was very attractive. Boys were showing up at the house in
droves.

“By the time she was in high school, she had so much
power over young men that she wouldn’t listen to me anymore. She
had them wrapped around her little finger. She loved to be in
control. That became the driving force in her life. Controlling
men.

“But she lost that when she started with the heroin.
It changed her. She is not the person she once was. If I had it to
do over, I’d kill Aaron Miller. I should have done that years
ago.”

He talked non-stop for the next half-hour. By the
time Portland was in our rear view mirror, he was weeping.