A Death in Canaan (7 page)
Authors: Joan; Barthel
Lieutenant Shay took Peter to one of the barracks bedrooms. There were two single beds, one of them all ready for Peter, with the top sheet turned down over a gray wool blanket. As he left, Lieutenant Shay took Peter's shoes.
Dr. Izumi was sleeping down the hall, in a room just like Peter's. He had left the house a little after five, but instead of going home, he had come to the barracks to get a few hours sleep before he did the autopsy on Barbara. Dr. Izumi's door was closed, but the door of Peter's room was open. A trooper sat on a chair in the hall, facing into the room, watching Peter.
Peter said later he couldn't seem to fall asleep. He turned over one way, then the other. He couldn't stop thinking about the night before, about things people had said. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed. He dreamed that he hadn't gone to the Teen Center, that he'd stayed home, and that somebody came into the house. Peter dreamed about Barbara.
Just as he was falling asleep, the Madows were getting up. In the morning sunshine, the porch light was still on.
3
“Hey, Pete,” Jim Mulhern said. “Wake up. Hey, Pete.”
Peter came awake suddenly, with a start. For a few seconds he didn't remember where he wasâa few, unfocused seconds when he didn't remember any of it. Then he remembered that something bad had happened, and he wanted Barbara. She always told him she would be there, if he needed her. Peter stared at Mulhern, then it all came back, a crash within his head. He'd been in bed about four hours. It was noon.
“Are you hungry?” Jim Mulhern asked. “Do you want something to eat or drink?”
“No thank you,” Peter said. “I don't have any appetite.”
“Well, come on then,” Mulhern said. “We're going to Hartford now.” That was where the polygraph tests were given.
“OK,” Peter said. He got out of bed and put on his jeans and his belt. Mulhern had brought back his shoes, and he sat on the bed and put them on, too. They were the same clothes, the same shoesâbrown knit shirt, Landlubber jeans, tan sneakersâthat he had worn to school the day before; the same clothes he was wearing at the Teen Center meeting that night. Joanne Mulhern had seen him wearing those clothes at the meeting, and she saw him wearing them now. She had been asked to come down to look at Peter and she did. The police asked whether these were the same clothes Peter had been wearing the night before. “Yes,” Joanne Mulhern said, and she signed a statement saying so.
Lieutenant Shay had told Mulhern not to discuss the case with Peter, so they talked, on the drive to Hartford, about all sorts of other things. Peter sat in the front seat, just the two of them in the car. They talked about TV commercials and about motorcycles. Barbara had always loved motorcycles. For stunt riding she preferred the big bikes, Peter recalled. She used to laugh and say that riding a little Honda was like riding a skateboard.
Police headquarters in Hartford is a sturdy, stone block of a building, across Washington Street from the courthouse, one fortress facing another. Jim Mulhern and Peter had made good time. They had left Canaan at 12:40 and got to Hartford at two o'clock. Lieutenant Shay arrived a little later in another car.
Peter asked to go to the men's room, where he washed his face and tried to brush through his hair with his hands. His hair was long and needed washing, and he felt a little scraggly. Mulhern took him upstairs, to a small room where a police officer was waiting, then Mulhern left. Peter didn't see him again for quite a while.
Cpl. Jack Schneider was short and brisk, with a crew cut. He seemed interested and friendly.
“Pete, you know why you're up here, don't you?” Corporal Schneider asked.
“I guess I'm here just to confirm my statement,” Peter said.
“Right,” Corporal Schneider said. “That's the reason you're here.”
Schneider explained to Peter that Sgt. Tim Kelly would be doing the actual testing. “He's reading all the reports over, so he'll know what he's talking about when you and him get together in the polygraph room,” Schneider said.
“Right,” Peter said.
Schneider gave him a form that said he was taking the test voluntarily. Peter signed it and wrote the time. It was 2:40
P.M
. “This is confidential information,” Schneider told Peter. “It stays here. Everything that we do today, or any forms we make out, remain here.
“What do your friends call you?” Schneider asked, in a friendly tone. “Do they call you Pete?”
“Either that, or Petey,” said Peter.
“I'll call you Pete,” Schneider said. “Most of my friends I call Pete.”
He asked Peter where he lived, and where he was born, and when. “Somewhere in New York City,” Peter said. “On March 2, 1955.”
“What nationality are you?” Schneider asked.
“English, I think,” Peter said. “And German. English and German.”
“Basically the same thing that I am,” Schneider said. “What's your religion?”
“I have none,” Peter said.
“You have none?” Schneider repeated.
“No, I've never been baptized,” Peter said.
“You've never been baptized?” Schneider repeated again. He paused. “You ever think about it? Do you believe in the Supreme Being?”
“Well, I believe there's got to be someone, someplace, always has been and always will be,” Peter said vaguely.
“OK, good,” Schneider said. “You own a car, Pete?”
“Well, it's my mom's car,” Peter said. “It's in her name. A 1968 Corvette.”
“You lived with your mother. Was it just you and your mother?” Schneider asked. Peter said yes. “Any idea who you'll be living with now?” Schneider asked.
Peter named Jean Beligni. “She told me, if anything ever happens, to come right to them, if I ever need help, if I ever need a place to stay. So that's what I'm going to do.”
“Now, Pete, have you ever been in a mental institution?” Schneider asked. “Treated by a psychiatrist or psychologist?”
“Not that I know of,” Peter said, then he thought of something. “Lieutenantâwhat's his nameâyeah, Shayâhe told me he had a couple years of psychology. That's the only thing I ever had to do with it. That was in the last twenty-four hours.”
“OK,” Schneider said. He established that Peter wasn't on drugs and hadn't been smoking marijuana.
“Did they give you any kind of medication to calm you down?” Schneider asked.
“No,” Peter said. “I've been very level-headed about it.”
“You are,” Schneider agreed.
“I figure I would save my tears for later,” Peter said. “This is more important.”
Schneider was about finished. “If you have any questions about the polygraph, I'll be glad to answer them,” he said.
“You're the only person who has been straightforward with me the last twenty-four hours,” Peter said. “I've been drilled and drilled and drilled, and gone over and gone over, you know?”
The polygraph room was quiet. It was a pleasant room twelve by fourteen feet, in soft colorsâyellow acoustical tile, a green carpet. The polygraph machine was built into a desk. Corporal Schneider motioned to the chair beside it, a straight-backed chair with a leather seat and wooden arms that could be adjusted up or down.
“Sit right here,” Schneider said. “That's what we call the seat of honor.”
Peter sat down. Schneider told him to roll up his sleeve and flex his muscle. “That's good. Right there,” Schneider said. He tied a rubber cuff around Peter's arm, a Childs Cardio-Cuff, but he didn't tighten it yet. It was attached by a tube to a stainless-steel pen. Schneider explained the apparatus that measured blood pressure, heartbeat, pulse. “That's very important,” Schneider said, “because that's the only muscle in your body you can't control.”
“Right,” Peter said.
“There are three things we can say here today,” Schneider said. “You told us the truth. Or you didn't tell us the truth. Or there's some mental or physical problem, and we can't test you. If there's some reason we can't test you, we'll test you some other time. As long as you want to. OK?”
“Right,” Peter said.
When Peter was ready, the apparatus set up, Corporal Schneider told him he was going to get Sergeant Kelly. The corporal looked at Peter as he left the room.
“Just relax,” the officer said.
Peter sat straight up in the seat of honor, waiting.
Marion Madow knew that Peter was going to Hartford for a polygraph test. Jim Mulhern had told her when she went down to the barracks a little before nine o'clock Saturday morning. She was a little surprised, but she thought it was just routine, just a little delay until Peter came home with her. She knew Jim Mulhern. Her sons knew him. So did Peter. They all knew him, and they trusted him.
She gave Mulhern a statement about what she had seen and done the evening before, beginning with Peter's phone call. Then she went home, to start her weekend chores. She did the weekly food shopping on Saturday, a big job with a family of five. And now there were six. Everybody was pleased that Peter was coming to stay with them. Nan couldn't get over how thin he was. “Oh, I'm going to fatten him up,” she had said, with a smile.
Sgt. Timothy Kelly was a big, strong-looking manâsix feet, 220 pounds, a brown belt in judo. He had a bristling gray crew cut, and his eyes were keen behind black-rimmed glasses. Tim Kelly had been a member of the Connecticut State Police for twenty-one years, stationed all that time in Hartford. He was chief of the polygraph division, with four men working for him. But this was his last season in Hartford. In the spring he planned to retire to Fort Myers, Florida, where he was going to do private polygraph work and collect seashells. He was a big man, with a big voice, but his voice wasn't gruff or rough. It was deep, but surprisingly soft.
K: | Pete, how are you? |
P: | OK. And you? |
K: | Good. Tim Kelly is my name. Sergeant Kelly of the state police. |
P: | Pleased to meet you. |
K: | Know why you're here, Pete? |
P: | Well, I guess, to determine whether the things in my statement are true. |
K: | Right. Now, last night you gave a statement up in Canaan. They told you your constitutional rights. Now I've got to go through the same thing again. This is a new day. I'm a new person, OK? |
P: | OK. |
K: | You have a right to remain silent. If you talk to the police, anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to consult with an attorney before you're questioned and may have him present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. If you wish to answer questions you can stop answering questions at any time. In other words, Pete, you can leave here anytime you want. You just say, âHey, Tim, I want to go home, let me take the equipment off.' And you can go home. Fair enough? |
P: | Right. |
K: | OK. You may stop answering questions at any time, if you wish to talk to an attorney you may have him with you during any further questioning. Understand that? |
P: | Mm-hm. |
K: | OK. Now read it to yourself again, Pete, put your initials down the side and sign it at the bottom. If there's anything there you don't understand, just speak up and I'll explain it to you, OK? |
P: | After I leave here will I be able to go and try to make the arrangements for myself? |
K: | Oh sure. |
P: | Because I've been all tied up and haven't had a chance to speak to anyone about what I'm going to do. |
K: | What time did you leave the house yesterday? |
P: | When I finally went out for the evening? |
K: | Yeah, what time was it? |
P: | Approximately twenty after seven. And I got to Canaan around ⦠|
K: | Not too fast, now. We're going to go over this whole thing. I want your mind completely clear. |
P: | Well, this is the most calm I've been. |
K: | You and I are going to talk here, man to man. I want no yelling, no screaming, OK? |
P: | OK. |
K: | When you were leaving, how was your mother dressed? Do you recall? |
P: | I think she had a white T-shirt on with a blue shirt over it, unbuttoned. A pair of jeans and sandals. She was sitting at the living-room table, eating a TV dinner. She was watching the news on TV, seven to seven-thirty, the national news. I left at seven-twenty. Geoff Madow was with me. We're good friends. |
K: | Was Geoff in the house? Did he meet your mother? |
P: | Yes. He already gave a statement. |
K: | You left in your Corvette, right? |
P: | I was in my Corvette. Geoff drove his car because he didn't have enough gas to drive me home and then go home. |
K: | Is there anything wrong with your car, or is it in pretty good shape? |
P: | It's in fairly decent shape. The transmission is a little rattly. |
K: | My brother-in-law has a Corvette, but for me it's too small a car. Every time I get in and out of it, I crack my head. |
P: | There's a lot of leg room, though. |
K: | Oh yeah. Well, how are the lights and the rest of the equipment? |
P: | Well, everything is fine except one headlight. You have to get out and jiggle it while the car's running. There's something messed up in the vacuum. Plus I have oversized tires, and it weaves a little bit, it gets away from you, so I don't drive that fast. |
K: | OK. So, you went to their meeting. Now tell me what happened. |
P: | Around nine-thirty, nine-thirty-five, I decided to leave, and this kid, John Sochocki, asked me for a ride home. So I dropped him off at his house, and then I went straight home. |
K: | Now tell me exactly what happened. |
P: | I pulled in the yard. I had to find a level spot to park because my emergency brake wasn't working. I got out and jiggled the light down, then I got back in, shut it off, put it in gear, and locked it up. I walked in the front door. The screen door was open, on the catch, and also the inside door wasn't quite closed. I walked in and I yelled, “Mom, I'm home!” There was no answer, so I figured she probably fell asleep. I looked in the bedroom, up at her bed. We were very limited on space, so we had bunk beds. When I wasn't home, she always slept in the top bunk. |
K: | Oh, I see. |
P: | I looked up, and I didn't see her. I turned, like I'd seen her, because I'm so used to it, and I turned around again, and found she wasn't there, and I looked down, and there she was on the bedroom floor. |
K: | Now, tell me exactly how she was. |
P: | She had a T-shirt on, and it was kind of pushed up to here. Nothing else on. I think she might have had that blue shirt on, but I don't remember. There was blood all over the place, around the chin and the throat and on the carpet around her. She was breathing, and she was having trouble breathing, but she was breathing, and she was unconscious, her eyes were closed, and she didn't respond to me when I yelled to her. She didn't seem to be bleeding anymore, but there was blood all over the place. |
K: | All right. |
P: | Ah, what's his name, the lieutenant? |
K: | Shay. |
P: | Shay. He told me that my first reaction should have been to go directly to her to see how she was. But my first reaction was to hit the phone. He said there might have been something a little wrong, but I was afraid to touch her for some reason. Mysterious reason. So I called the Madows. They're on the VFW ambulance squad. Mrs. Madow said they'd be right down. Then she told me to call my family doctor. So I hung up and dialed information, one-four-one-one, and then I called and I got the number for Dr. Bornemann, and then I called there. His wife told me Dr. Bornemann was on vacation. She said call the Sharon Hospital emergency room. So I hung up and dialed information again and got Sharon Hospital. I dialed there, and they connected me with the emergency room. They asked me whether she was still breathing, and I went in and looked, and at that point she'd almost stopped breathing. I came back and told them, and they asked if I knew anything about artificial respiration. I told them I didn't. They said they'd contact the state police. I said I already contacted an ambulance. |
K: | What did you do then? |
P: | I walked out the door. I |
K: | What did Geoff say? |
P: | He said it looked like somebody raped her. Maybe I said it. But I think he said it. |
K: | I was just wondering what his reaction was when he saw all the blood. |
P: | He just turned pale. I was already like a ghost. We went back out and stood in the front yard. By the time Geoff got there it had been seven or eight minutes, I think. Maybe five. Then, a couple minutes later, the cruiser pulled in, and the ambulance was right behind it. |
K: | Well, what do you think happened there? |
P: | I honestly don't know. My mom used to get very depressed. She told me that sometimes she felt suicidal, but that she didn't have the guts to go through with it. |
K: | Do you think your mother committed suicide? |
P: | I don't know. I don't know the facts on what actually happened to her. |
K: | Do you recall her being all wet? |
P: | No. But the police officer showed me the pair of pants and asked me if they were mine or hers. He told me they were wet. I saw they weren't bell-bottoms, so I knew they were hers, plus she had the cuffs rolled up. |
K: | And they were soaking wet. And her shirt was wet. |
P: | I didn't notice that her shirt was wet. |
K: | Yeah, it was when they examined her. Any idea how she got all wet? |
P: | I can't understand it. Did they check the bathtub or anything? I don't know what they did down there. |
K: | Do you have any suspicions as to who would hurt your mother like that? |
P: | I told them about [name deleted], who's an alcoholic. I don't suspect him, but as far as I know, an alcoholic will do anything. |
K: | Or somebody that has a mental problem. A person might have a mental problem and do something that they're sorry for, afterwards. They've taken a life, but they can't help themselves. |
P: | Right. |
K: | Things just snap, and suddenly, a few hours later, they're back to normal again. |
P: | Like a split personality. |
K: | Right. When was the last time you saw [the alcoholic]? |
P: | Last time I saw him was, at least two years ago. |
K: | Has your mother heard from him recently? |
P: | We had phone calls last week. Tuesday or Wednesday. Then on Thursday and Friday last week I had to drive her to Sharon Hospital for tests. My mom was the lousiest driver there was. |
K: | Most women are. |
P: | But she wouldn't admit it. Besides, the way the car moved, she wasn't that strong in her arms. If the car weaved, she might not have been able to pull out of it. |
K: | Other than [the alcoholic], you have no other suspicions? |
P: | Well, I gave the name of [name deleted] but he left this area five years ago. He went to California. |
K: | So you have no real strong suspicions? |
P: | No. |
K: | And you never touched your mother? |
P: | I never touched her. I know it was kind of odd that I didn't, but I know I didn't. |
K: | I understand there was a lot of blood. |
P: | There was, and that's what scared me. |
K: | Where was that coming from? Could you tell? |
P: | I couldn't tell. |
K: | If I ask you this question on the polygraph: Do you know for sure who hurt your mother? What would you answer? |
P: | No. |
K: | Pete, I'm not trying to trick you. |
P: | Even if you are, it's for the better. |
K: | Well, I'm not, in no way, trying to trick you. |
P: | Right. I understand that. |
K: | That's why we'll talk these questions over to make sure that you understand. If you don't, we'll change them. Now, the next question: Last night, do you know for sure who hurt your mother? |
P: | No. |
K: | Last night, did you hurt your mother? |
P: | No. |
K: | Now, they had to take her into the hospital and examine her. |
P: | They performed an autopsy, right? |
