“Because that’s all we know for sure so far. How about if we go talk to the man and see if we can find out anything else.”
“Good idea,” Captain Powell said.
They brought Pete Kelsey/John David Madsen to one of the windowed interview rooms on the fifth floor. He was wearing jail-issue orange coveralls, matching slippers, and an air of stubborn determination.
“Good evening, Mr. Madsen,” I said cordially as he took a seat at the bare wooden table. “Is your attorney meeting you here?”
“I don’t have an attorney,” he answered, “and my name is Pete Kelsey. That’s what I want to be called.”
“But you have been read your rights, haven’t you, Mr. Madsen?” I continued, pointedly disregarding his wishes. I wanted to put the man on notice that this wasn’t a walk in the park and it was high time he paid attention.
“You know you have the right to counsel and if you can’t afford one, an attorney will be appointed for you?”
“I already know all that. Just tell me what you want to know.”
“How long have you known your wife was having an affair with Andrea Stovall?” I asked bluntly.
“It’s always been there, in the background. The security guard was a surprise, but I’ve known about Andrea from the beginning.”
“What changed?”
Kelsey/Madsen stared at me blankly. “What do you mean, what changed?”
“Just exactly that. Andrea tried to warn your wife that you were on a rampage because of something you’d been told. What did you know then, the night of the murder, that you didn’t know before?”
Kelsey hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t want all this to come out, to become so much public gossip.”
“What did you find out that night?” I insisted.
“That she was leaving me. After all these years, she had decided to go live with Andrea as soon as school got out.”
“How did you find that out?”
Suddenly a dam broke somewhere inside the man’s previously unflappable calm. He buried his face in his hands. “Oh God, I didn’t want any of this to come out. Why are you insisting on bringing it out? I knew it would hurt George and Belle and Erin if they ever found out the truth, and as long as Marcia kept her part of the bargain, it didn’t matter that much to me.”
“You still haven’t answered the question,” I insisted.
“A phone call,” he said.
“A phone call? You told us about some threatening calls, harassing calls.”
Kelsey shook his head. “I didn’t tell you about this one, because I hoped you’d never find out about it. The call came on Sunday night, quite a while after Marcia left.”
“Who was it?”
“A woman, I didn’t recognize the voice, laughing hysterically. She told me Marcia was going to run away with Andrea, but all the while she kept laughing and laughing, like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard.”
“You’re sure you didn’t recognize the voice?”
“No. At first I thought it was Erin. I was afraid she was having car trouble and was calling for help, but it turned out not to be her at all.”
“So who was it?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t say. Wouldn’t say, but what was scary was how much she knew, or seemed to know. She said Marcia wasn’t working at all, that she was at Andrea’s. She even told me where Andrea lived. In all the years, I’ve never known that, never wanted to. That’s not all, either. She said that Marcia was going to break her word to me, her promise, and go live with Andrea.”
Pete had said the words in a rush, and now he was silent.
“Did she tell you anything else?”
“No. She couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t? Why not?”
“Because she was laughing, Detective Beaumont, laughing hysterically! I’ve never heard anything like it.”
“What did you do after the phone call?”
“What do you think? I went to find them.”
“Why?”
“To try to get her to change her mind, but she wasn’t there. I tried the office first, then Andrea’s apartment, and later I tried the school district office again. So then I went by the school district. Nobody answered my ring the first time, and when I went back the second time, her car was gone. Actually, it’s probably a good thing I didn’t find her.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t trust myself, Detective Beaumont. Because I might have killed her. I was right at the end of my rope. Later on, after I cooled off, I got to thinking that if the person who called was wrong about them being together at the apartment, maybe she was wrong about the rest of it too. Maybe Marcia wasn’t going to leave me after all.”
Kramer was shaking his head in obvious disgust, but I didn’t give him a chance to say anything.
“Why didn’t you tell us any of this before?”
“I was hoping no one would find out, that what went on between Marcia and Andrea Stovall would be a secret that Marcia would take to her grave so no one else would have to be hurt by it. But that didn’t work either. It was all over the paper this morning. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it.”
“So how did the murder weapon get in your bedroom, Mr. Madsen?” Detective Kramer asked.
“I don’t know,” Pete replied.
“And what about Alvin Chambers’ trousers and his shoes?”
“What about them?”
“We found those in your house as well, out in your garage.”
“I don’t know,” Pete began. “I can’t imagine, unless somebody’s trying to frame me.”
“Who would do that? Who would be interested in framing you for the murder of your own wife?”
“I told you, I don’t know. It’s a nightmare.”
“Tell me why you stuck it out with your wife for so long, Mr. Madsen or Kelsey or whatever you call yourself,” Kramer continued. “I sure as hell wouldn’t, not under those circumstances.”
Pete Kelsey’s eyes hardened. “We made a bargain, Detective Kramer,” he said. “I’m a man who keeps bargains.”
“Sounds like a hell of a bargain to me,” Kramer returned derisively. “What did you get out of it?”
Had I been Pete Kelsey, I think I would have tried to belt that smart-mouthed son of a bitch. Either that or I would have clammed up. Pete Kelsey did neither.
“It was good enough for me,” he answered softly. “I got what I wanted.”
“And what was that?”
Pete Kelsey held Kramer’s eyes when he answered. “I got a family,” he said. “A family and a country.”
“Wait a minute. We already know you’re John David Madsen, you already had both a family and a country, so cut the bullshit.”
“That’s not true,” Pete replied. “When I met Marcia Riggs, I was a man without a country, a man who had cut all ties with the past and with my family. Marrying Marcia gave me both. I owed her for that, no matter what. It’s a debt I can never repay.”
“You paid, all right, bud,” Kramer said under his breath. “You paid through the nose, and when you got tired of paying, you got rid of her.”
“I didn’t,” Kelsey said, half rising in his chair. “I did not!”
Suddenly there was an urgent pounding on the door to the interview room, Kramer turned and opened it. Uncertain of his welcome, the evening desk sergeant stood warily outside the door. “Excuse me, Detective Kramer, but…”
“I demand to see my client,” said a confidently assertive voice. With that, Caleb Winthrop Drachman the Third stepped past the desk sergeant and Kramer and marched into the interrogation room as if he owned the place.
Cal Drachman, with his polka-dot bow-tied image is a young (thirty-five-year-old) rising star in Seattle’s criminal defense circles. At least among those defendants who for some reason or other don’t qualify for a public defender. Cal Drachman III is far too busy with his burgeoning practice and making a name for himself to ever consider working for free. You could rest assured that if Cal Drachman appeared in a case, someone was footing a considerable bill.