A Deadly Game (4 page)
Brocchini noticed an open space on the top shelf of the closet where it appeared the bag had come from. A second duffle bag, which had apparently fallen off the top shelf, was resting on the clothing rack between the top shelf and the closet wall. It looked as though the second duffle bag had fallen when the Nike bag was taken down. When questioned about the bag's location, Scott claimed he was just "sloppy."
In another closet, the detectives found several rifles.
"Do you own any handguns?" Brocchini asked.
Scott said he owned a Clock, but it had been stolen from his car a few years earlier. "I've got a second handgun, a Llama .22-caliber that I've owned since before my eighteenth birthday. I normally keep it in the desk in the spare bedroom, but for the last month I've been keeping it in the glove box of my truck, since my last pheasant-hunting trip about a month ago. It's loaded with ammo."
Trailing Scott to the TV room/den that now occupied the converted garage, Brocchini noticed a washroom partially hidden behind bifold doors. He paused to examine a stack of stained white towels heaped on top of the washing machine. "The maid probably used those the other day," Scott volunteered. "They were in the washing machine. I took them out so I could put my clothes in."
Reaching inside, the detective pulled out a pair of blue jeans, a blue T-shirt, and a green pullover.
"Those are the clothes I wore fishing today," Scott said. "Why did you wash them as soon as you got home?" "They were wet from the bay and the rain." Having spotted an overflowing laundry basket in the master bedroom, Brocchini wondered why Scott hadn't added these items to his small wash load. When he asked about the Petersons' maid, Scott explained that it had been her third time to the house. She was hired to clean every other Monday.
Breaking with protocol, Brocchini now decided to proceed with a full-blown investigation based on an assumption of foul play. "Can I get her phone number?" he asked Scott. "And can I get a look at your cell phone for the call history?"
Scott handed over his phone and watched as the detective copied down all of the incoming and outgoing calls.
At one point during the walk-through, Brocchini noticed the couple's golden retriever in the backyard. The dog hadn't barked when he and Evers first entered the house, and Brocchini was curious to see how McKenzie would respond to him. Stepping outside, he approached the retriever, who greeted him happily when the detective knelt down to pet him.
"That's unusual," Scott remarked.
"Is he your dog?"
"Yeah."
"How old is he?"
"He's about eight or nine years old. I've had him since before I was married."
"Is he protective of Laci?"
"Yeah, like around the pool man if I'm not here."
Outside the back door, Brocchini saw the bucket and two mops. Scott said that Laci had been cleaning that morning.
"I brought the bucket in and set it near the front door," Scott explained. "When I left to go fishing, Laci was mopping."
"How did the mops get outside?"
Scott explained that when he entered through the back door, his pets raced in ahead of him. When the cat ran toward the bucket, he said, he took it outside and dumped the water, afraid the cat might drink from it if he left it visible.
Leaving the house, Brocchini strode over to Scott's bronze-colored 2002 Ford pickup. It was backed in facing the street, next to a dark green Land Rover parked in the opposite direction.
"Can I look inside the car?"
"Yeah," Scott replied, unlocking the vehicle with a remote key.
In the cargo bed of the four-door F-150, there were five four-foot long patio umbrellas wrapped in a blue tarp. Scott said that he'd intended to store the umbrellas at his shop, but simply forgot to take them out on his two trips to the warehouse that day. The expensive umbrellas had been left in the open truck bed the entire time Scott was out on the bay. Next to the umbrellas was a toolbox containing some articles of clothing, a nylon rope, and a bag of shotgun shells. A light brown canvas tarp lay bunched up near the vehicle's tailgate.
Moving forward to the passenger compartment, the detective swung open the driver's door. When it bumped against Laci's vehicle, Scott immediately demanded he stop the search.
"I can move the truck forward," Scott said. Then, producing a glove, he offered to hold it between the door and the Land Rover.
Brocchini promised to be more careful, but he was surprised at Scott's reaction. Was this young man more interested in a scratch on his car than the safety of his wife? This was a moment worth noting. In my experience, a close family member who worries about protecting his property at a time like this is a suspect who should be watched. None of the items in Scott and Laci's home were damaged. Yet, even as the police were watching him, Scott let his proprietary interest in the SUV overwhelm both his concern for his wife and his common sense. In hindsight, Scott's behavior suggests control issues as well: From these early moments, he began posturing aggressively around the detective investigating his wife's disappearance.
Returning to his inspection, Brocchini saw the camouflage jacket Scott said he'd been wearing on his supposedly rainy fishing trip. The jacket was dry to the touch. A sports bag nearby contained two fishing lures, still in their package, and a store receipt. Two other sacks from shops in a nearby mall contained clothing, along with purchase slips dated several weeks earlier. In the glove box was the Llama .22-caliber handgun Scott had mentioned, loaded with a magazine of live ammo. There was no round in the chamber.
Without hesitation, Brocchini collected the pistol and marked it as evidence.
Shifting his focus to Laci's vehicle, a 1996 Land Rover Discovery, he saw a cell phone on the front seat still plugged into the dashboard. He tried to turn it on, but it flickered and immediately switched off. The phone's battery was dead.
As the two men stood in the driveway, Laci's mother was over on the front lawn watching. She had barely glimpsed Scott since their brief meeting in the park more than four hours ago. Now she tried to catch his eye again, but he still seemed to be avoiding her. Sharon thought his behavior was out of character but put it out of her mind when she realized that she'd never seen him under such stress.
The waiting was physically and emotionally exhausting, and Sharon finally sat down on the curb to rest. By that time, five marked police cars lined the street, and the number of people on the scene was increasing. Officers in navy blue uniforms and the investigation team in jeans and sneakers joined the detectives already on-site. Her friend Sandy was with her when Scott finally walked over.
"You know, if they find blood anywhere that doesn't mean anything," Scott told his mother-in-law. "I'm a sportsman. Just look at my hands. I could drop blood anywhere."
Sharon
was too upset for the strange statement to register, but the exchange bothered Sandy, and later she reported it to the police. When I first heard this story, I wondered if Scott was simply taking a page out of O. J. Simpson's playbook. When questioned about blood drops appearing in his Bronco and on the walkway to his home, Simpson deftly explained that he had cut his knuckle twice-once before he left on his "alibi" trip to Chicago, and a second time on a glass in the Chicago hotel room when he was told about Nicole's death. He later revised this by saying he cut himself all the time.
As an avid equestrienne, I have four horses and six dogs; I'm always scuffing myself playing with the puppies or working in the barn-or, even more hazardous, while cooking in the kitchen. Nevertheless, I cannot imagine trying to convince anyone that major droplets of blood can be found around my home on a regular basis, as Scott did.
Just before 11:00 P.M., Detective Brocchini suggested that Laci's mother go home for the night. Then he turned to Scott. "Is it all right if the ID Tech people go inside to take photographs and collect evidence?" Taking crime scene photos and gathering evidence a few hours into a missing persons case is quite unusual, but Brocchini was following his instinct. He wanted the scene preserved as quickly as possible.
"That would be fine," Scott replied.
At 11:17, Brocchini and Evers drove Scott to his place of business, exactly four miles away. Scott sat in the passenger seat of the detective's unmarked sedan; Evers followed closely behind in a patrol car. Scott was a fertilizer salesman for Tradecorp, a company headquartered in Spain. His territory spanned
Just as they had searched the Petersons' home, the detectives intended to scrutinize Scott's place of business. They were particularly interested in the boat he had taken on his afternoon fishing expedition, a fourteen-foot aluminum Sears Gamefisher stored inside his warehouse.
The officers observed that there were two entrances to the warehouse, a single-car roll-up door and a door that led to an office area. "I'm the only one with the key, since I'm the only employee," Scott told them as he unlocked the office door.
"There's no electricity," he then announced as he led the men inside. Neither officer flipped the light switches to test his assertion. Although Brocchini would be criticized for fingering Scott as early as he did, at this point he was still willing to take Scott's word about the electricity. Grabbing a Streamline flashlight with a rechargeable battery, the detective spotted a computer and a fax machine with an incoming fax in the tray. He noted the date, December 24, and the time it had been sent, 14:28, or 2:28 P.M. "Tell me about this fax?" he asked Scott.
"I think I received it before I left to go fishing," Scott replied. "It's from
Once again, Scott's stories weren't making any sense. "If you got it at 11:28, that would have been kind of late to go to Berkeley." the detective mused. "It's cutting it kind of close leaving Modesto at 11:28 and arriving in Berkley at 12:54."
"Well, maybe I got it when I got back from Berkeley, but I remember getting it and reading it."
"Would you roll up the door so I can at least position my car in front of the shop, so I'll have some light besides this flashlight?" Brocchini requested.
"Sure." Striding to the warehouse area, Scott heaved open the roll-up door while the detective repositioned his vehicle, using his high beams to illuminate the boat. Only later did it occur to him that if Scott's computer and fax machine were working that morning, the electricity was certainly working then.
The boat sat atop its trailer. It appeared dry on the outside, but there was water visible in the bow. The detective noticed a chunk of concrete with a rebar hoop on one end on the floor of the boat. Scott identified it as a homemade anchor, but there was no rope attached. Brocchini paused for a moment to examine what appeared to be concrete debris along the rib line inside the boat. It was not on the actual rim, but on the edges inside of the vessel that ran horizontal to the bottom and up both sides. There did not appear to be any reason that concrete particles would be there or on the table nearby. He noticed scratches on one side as well.
A pair of yellow rubber gloves and a short red docking line lay inside the boat. Both were wet. One ultralight rod and reel, and a similar saltwater rig, were also in the boat. The freshwater rod was fitted with a small Mitchell reel spooled with braided line with a small lure tied to the end. The reel was missing its crank handle. The saltwater rig, a new-looking Master Brand rod and reel, was broken down into parts. The reel was spooled with what appeared to be seventeen-pound monofilament line. A small buzz lure, used for top water bass fishing, hung from the line. Both rod and reel had what appeared to be residue, possibly salt, on the exterior. A small tackle box sat nearby.
As Brocchini photographed the boat, Scott said, "I hope you don't show those to my boss," apparently worried that he would get in trouble for using the warehouse to store his boat. Even granting that different people react differently under stressful conditions, any good investigator would have noticed the behavior as odd. As Brocchini noted, "This appeared to be suspicious concern from a husband of a missing woman."
After the warehouse search, Detective Brocchini and Officer Evers took Scott to the Modesto Police Department headquarters at
"I haven't been taking notes all night," Brocchini told Scott as they pulled into the station house. "I'd like to sit down so I can take some notes and get a more thorough statement from you."
Scott agreed.
The men went upstairs to an interrogation room and began the taped conversation at midnight. They would not finish until 1:30 that morning.
What follows is the first complete rendering of the taped interview between Brocchini and Scott Peterson, including those portions not admitted at trial.
