Eleven Days (31 page)

“I was never exactly sure,” said Mark, “but I think it began over a woman. Ownership of a woman. Travis wanted her, but the other group had her, I think.”

The conflict escalated, and somebody in the group had threatened Travis with exposure. Exactly the wrong move, apparently.

Phil Killian had come to see Betty Rothberg one day, and the subject came up. Mark said that Phil had told him that Travis had actually had tears in his eyes when he talked about his woman. He also talked about killing his opposition. Phil apparently needed some money, he said,
to leave the Cleveland area and start fresh. He said that he would renounce Satan and try to make a good home for this woman. He needed cash.

Mark and Betty were convinced. They didn’t know who the woman was, but it sounded like Phil had seen the light.

Mark and Betty had given five hundred dollars to Phil, to help him get his act back together. His brother-in-law was then “overcome by Satan,” according to Mark. He used some of the money to buy some dope, and he and Travis decided that they would go and take the woman from the other group. They tried, and that was when the three homicides in Cleveland had taken place. Phil had gone to the police the same night and confessed to his role in the slayings. Travis, predictably, didn’t.

Phil apparently realized, a couple of days later, that Travis had intended to kill the woman all along. He couldn’t handle it and committed suicide.

At that point, the Rothbergs became aware that the Cleveland police didn’t know who John Travis was. Two detectives had approached them, asking for information. Phil hadn’t said, and Mark told them that he didn’t know John Travis personally. That was true. He told them what he had just told us about Travis, and said that the information all came from Phil. The detectives apparently searched Phil’s things, but as far as Mark Rothberg knew, they found nothing.

Things were getting a little uncomfortable for them in Cleveland, so when the opportunity arose for the Rothbergs to move, they came to Maitland.

Phil had a twin sister, Rachel. She had gone to school in Iowa City, but they had remained incredibly close. He had introduced her to Satanism, and she had bought into it heavily. Mark and Betty weren’t aware of that until sometime after Phil’s suicide. Phil, by the way, had introduced Travis to his sister.

Real smart man, that Phil.

Mark had spent a lot of time trying to “save” Rachel. Rachel failed Mark’s course. So he and Betty attempted to “deprogram” her, apparently the next and “ultimate” step in her salvation. That failed, too, as she got away from them. She’d moved in with Phyllis Herkaman, who defended her from the goodwill of Mark and Betty.

So far so good. As far as the Rothbergs were concerned, while Rachel was gone, they still had hope because she would frequently appear near Maitland and would sometimes call. Three or four times in the last year, she had actually come to visit, accompanied by Phyllis Herkaman.

As far as we were concerned, though, it seemed clear that Rachel was milking them for money, while busy turning out a victim for a ritual sacrifice. Depends on your viewpoint, I guess. I was beginning to get a little tired of all of this stupidity and cruelty.

The Rothbergs became aware that Rachel was pregnant and were apparently unhappy about it at first, but then took the optimistic view that this might bring Rachel around to their side. It didn’t, of course.

After the child was born, they only saw Rachel once, and had the opportunity to see little Cynthia. Apparently Betty had picked the child up, and Rachel had a screaming fit, saying that Betty wanted to take the child away and would “contaminate” it. Oh brother.

We then asked him about his relationship with Francis
McGuire. After McGuire had left the church for the coven, he had come to see Rothberg on one occasion. He told Rothberg about the planned sacrifice of a child. Apparently he was not aware that Rachel was Betty’s sister. Rothberg was floored and torn between going to the police and keeping the confidence of his position. He pleaded with McGuire to stop the ritual and prayed that the man had enough conscience left in his soul to protect the child. To make matters worse, Rothberg was sure that Betty had overheard the session with McGuire. On occasion she had betrayed confessional details of members of the parish to Mark. He was positive that she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to hear what one of Rachel’s new friends had to say in one of his private counseling sessions.

By early February, Rachel’s evasiveness about the child caused a confrontation. She finally admitted that the baby had died toward the end of December. Coupled with McGuire’s tale, both Rothbergs began to believe the baby had been sacrificed.

Shortly afterward, Betty lost it. He took her to a psychiatric clinic in Dubuque. She stayed there for three weeks, under the pretext of visiting her parents in Ohio, and when she came home she was, in his words, “a different person.”

When pressed, he said that she was rather disturbed, still, but had a serenity he could only feel had come from God. She was not very communicative and didn’t talk about the baby at all, except to say that the whole thing was in other hands now and would eventually be all right. I decided not to ask if she was on Prozac.

She came home about three weeks before the four homicides.

“What became of telling the police about all of this?” I could barely contain my anger.

“We were going to, eventually. But not right away. After all, the child was dead, wasn’t she? I have to think about Betty, too.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to little Cynthia? I mean, where she was buried?”

Rothberg shuddered. “Not actually. Francis told me that the … sacrifice … had taken place at his home farm, in the barn; He did say that he had been assigned to take care of the body. With somebody else—a man, I think. And that they’d placed the remains in a ‘safe place.’ He never did say where.”

“Then what happened?”

Not much, according to Rothberg, until the four murders went down. He heard pretty quickly, as he’d explained to me at my house on Thursday. As soon as he’d heard some detail, he knew what had happened. Travis.

“I knew it was him, Carl. There was absolutely no doubt at all. I’m not a man who is inspired all that often, but I knew then.”

“What did you do?”

“I was distraught. Frantic. I felt that I was responsible. It was the most horrible time I have ever experienced. It was terrible. I had to do something …” He looked at me again. Guilt was eating him. “I know now that I was, perhaps, a little unhinged. That doesn’t excuse my actions, Carl. I hope you understand that. But that was the reason.”

“Reason for what?”

“I wanted to cleanse the places of evil.”

“So?”

“I was trying to atone, I suppose,” he said, “for what I felt was my guilt.”

This was getting frustrating.

“What did you do, Mark?”

“I took crucifixes to both houses and tried to bless them.”

It took me a second. But just a second.

“That was you?!”

“Yes, I’m afraid it was.” He looked down.

“You’re the one who hit me on the head?”

“I’m so very sorry, Carl … so very sorry.”

I started to laugh. He looked at me quizzically.

“I am truly sorry, but I couldn’t be caught, don’t you see? No one could find me there, or I would have to explain my presence …”

I stopped laughing. He’d hit me more than once.

“I was a desperate man.” He looked at me again. “I suppose I’ll be charged for that, won’t I?”

“Oh, yeah. No doubt about it.”

“So, then,” asked Hester, “did you go back and burn the McGuire place down, too?”

“Oh, my, no. No, no, indeed not! No.”

“Do you know who did?”

“No.”

“Okay, Mark,” said Hester. “Now, just where is Travis? Do you know?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Where?”

“Back in Dubuque. A one-room apartment on Fessler Street. A little white house, he lives upstairs. A Mrs. Skayhill rents rooms. That’s where he used to meet Rachel. The room is under the name John Quarrels.”

“Fine.” Hester jotted the address down. “Does he work anywhere?”

“I’m sure.”

There was a pause. “Would you happen to know where?”

“No,” said Mark. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Do you know if he has any friends around here?”

“None that anyone mentioned.” He sighed. “I feel so dead inside,” he said. “But I am relieved that it’s all come out. I want to thank you.”

“Yeah … You’re welcome.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Phelps asked what we were going to do with Rothberg. We talked it over for a few seconds. An assault charge, possibly trespassing. Concealing evidence in a homicide … he was a material witness. Concealing evidence in another homicide case. So that was obstructing justice. But he wasn’t a threat to the community. At least not physically. Except to me.

I grabbed Fueller, who was still in the office, and ran it by him. Rothberg had to conduct a funeral service and only had a few minutes to get to the church.

We decided that Ed would go with him and bring him back at the conclusion of services. A decision forced by haste. Bond would be set in his absence.

Rothberg and Ed left in a hurry. Ed wasn’t too pleased at having to go to church, but since his wife was along, there wasn’t much he could say.

Betty Rothberg was still talking in Lamar’s office. Fueller told me that Hal and Saperstein were with her. And just as he finished his sentence, Hal came out of the interview and we filled him in on Mark’s statement.

“We’re just about finished up in there, too. It looks like Betty got this Travis dude to do it. Indirectly. Told him about the baby. It was his, all right. He apparently hadn’t known about the sacrifice, and Rachel sure as hell never told him. So Betty talked with this Travis about revenge. Can you believe that? ‘Suggestions’ all the way, but given her knowledge of his background, it was like pointing a gun.”

He motioned me aside.

“Betty was screwing him,” he whispered.

“Travis?”

“Yep.”

“God, he must be able to persuade anybody …”

“Other way around.”

“What?”

“Betty hooked him after she heard about the baby. She persuaded him to do it. Used him all the way. He doesn’t know that. But that’s what she did. Flattered his ego, conned him all the way. To get him to ‘prove’ to her that he was all-powerful as he said. She’s done some weird things with him—she makes no bones about that.”

“Does her husband know?”

“No. She looked the dude up when she was in counseling in Dubuque. Got the address from her sister a while before. But her husband has no idea.”

“Well, I sure as hell don’t want to tell him.”

“Me either. I think she’s gone off the deep end. For real. I don’t want to do conspiracy here, but she did set him off. Well, we’ll see … We’re just going to have her summarize. Want to join us?”

Of course I did. We went back into Lamar’s office together. Phelps had already joined the group. It was getting pretty crowded in there, and I started to leave when Saperstein announced he had something to do and graciously allowed me to take his place.

Betty Rothberg’s “summary” was composed and matter-of-fact. Not emotionless … but the emotion that
was present was mostly a quiet satisfaction with a job well done.

What it amounted to was this:

Rachel had become pregnant, and Betty had discovered this in about the fourth or fifth month, June or July. She was very pleased for Rachel and thought that this would be the opportunity to get Rachel’s life straightened out. Betty made all sorts of plans, even going so far as to begin to rearrange her house to accommodate Rachel and the baby. Betty had arranged a little baby shower for Rachel in October, and Rachel had shown up with Phyllis.

Betty remarked that Phyllis seemed to be the one who appreciated it, while Rachel was sort of withdrawn and sullen about the whole thing.

“You know,” sighed Betty, “I suppose it was because Phyllis was trying to get Rachel to be ‘normal’ about it. To try to hide what they planned from me.” She winced. “Do you think that could be?”

“I don’t know,” said Hester.

“I think it was,” said Betty. “I think it was.”

Betty had passed it off as Rachel just being herself. I could understand that.

After the shower, Rachel moved out of Phyllis’s house and had gone to be with friends in Iowa City. She’d told Betty that it was because she wanted to be near better hospitals for the delivery. Betty had taken this as a sign of Rachel’s maternity coming to the fore, and thought it was a good idea.

Betty talked for a minute, again, about how the baby would give Rachel a chance to get her life “sorted out,” and how the sisters could have become so close. It was sad. She started rambling a little, about events prior to November and the birth.

Hal let her go on for a minute or two and then said, “Betty, what happened after the little girl was born?”

Betty stopped abruptly. Frowned.

“I saw her once,” she said. Her face brightened. “She
was so adorable, so sweet, such little, tiny hands and feet …”

It occured to me that Betty hadn’t any children of her own.

“Where did you see the baby?” asked Hester.

“Out at Phyllis’s place, one Saturday afternoon,” said Betty.

It turned out that she had taken to driving past the Herkaman place on weekends, just to see if Rachel was there. She’d seen the car that Saturday and dropped in.

“How and when did you find out the baby was dead, Betty?” asked Hal.

They’d already been over this, of course. Normally, the second time through, the emotion would have dissipated. Not so here.

Betty’s face contorted, but her body remained relaxed. Damnedest thing I’d ever seen.

“John told me.”

“John Travis?” asked Hal.

“Yes.”

“How did he know, Betty?”

“He didn’t know,” she said, with the emphasis on “know.”