Date With the Devil (15 page)

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Authors: Don Lasseter

BOOK: Date With the Devil
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David Mahler muttered, “Who saw us together?”
“People we have talked to saw you and her in that room.”
“She wasn't there that long.”
“You were seen with her in that room—just you and her, with no Edmund.” Small threw another boulder into Mahler's sinking boat. “You were seen waving that gun around, acting all crazy.”
To this new and significant charge, Mahler could manage no more than “Uh-huh.”
Unrelenting, the detective added, “You probably had a load on. You were upset. You were tired. You've had enough drama. Krissy's causing you grief. You want her out. You're pissed off about this Rick guy, right?”
Donning a cloak of calm, Mahler replied, “I'm listening to what you are saying.”
Small queried, “Does it make sense to you? And then you summoned Donnie up there.”
“Uh-huh. Donnie, yeah.”
“Yeah,” Small echoed. “He shows up, and you pretend like you're going to cap a round into him.”
“Into him?”
Mahler's question sounded as if he was incredulous that the round would be intended for Donnie rather than Kristi.
“It scared the crap out of him and he splits,” said Small. “He closes the door and then hears the sound of a gunshot.”
“Okay, if that's what you ... if that's what you're—”
“That's what I got.”
“You're telling me—”
“I'm telling you that another witness goes up and views her body in your room.”
“With me there?” Mahler probably assumed Small meant Karl Norvik, but the detective's follow-up confused him.
“No. You weren't there. Can you explain all that?”
“In two ways. But first of all, there's—”
Small wanted no diversions. “How about the truthful way?”
At this point, Vicki Bynum stepped in to defuse the growing hostility with a little touch of “good cop” gentleness. She spoke sweetly to Mahler, hoping it might inspire him to reveal what he knew.
David Mahler remained on the defense. “I think you guys are insinuating that in some way I had something to do with her disappearance. I am stunned.”
Suggesting that perhaps an unintentional accident had taken place, Small gave Mahler an opportunity to rationalize events. He rejected it. “If an accident happened, it wasn't at my hands.”
Small felt fire in his belly again. “You were the only one there. And you are the only one with a gun in his hand.”
“Donnie was there, first of all. I mean, I know Donnie was there, because he was in and out—like you say. Edmund was there too.”
“So when the gun went off, were you shocked? Was it unexpected?”
“What makes you think—where is this coming from that the gun even went off?”
By this time, David Mahler certainly knew that Donnie Van Develde had provided the information leading to these accusations. “I don't know why he would say that. I have absolutely no clue other than the fact that we've had disagreements in regard to his paying the rent.”
Small asked, “Did Kristi say something to you to get you going? She just wanted away from you.”
“Kristi and I get along fine. Did Donnie say different?” Using the present tense for Kristi made it sound as if Mahler thought she was still alive. And he seemed to have forgotten talking about the dispute that prompted him to abandon her in a hotel, and his description of ordering her to leave his house.
It hadn't left Small's mind, though. “Did she hold a grudge because you left her in Newport? Did she owe you some money too? Is she ripping you off?”
“No.”
“Did she sic someone on you?”
Mahler asked if they could take a break. All three agreed, and Vicki Bynum left the room. Both men continued to chat, however. Mahler commented, “I'm a lawyer. When I go to court, I'm in control. I'm damn good at what I do. In this room, you're damn good at what you do. And you're good, because you knew exactly where you were headed.”
“I'm just trying to find the truth,” Small countered. “And I want to know where Kristi is.”
Mahler gave the first hint of cooperating. “I know I can find that out.”
They continued bantering in mutually complimentary terms. Mahler said, “I'm talking to you because I'm looking at you in the eyes and I'm saying, ‘This man is good at what he does.' Maybe sometimes you've got to slide the truth, but [you are] always on the right side of the truth. And I'm telling you point-blank—what do you want or need from me so that I [can] sleep at home or in a hotel this evening and not in jail?”
To Detective Small, David Mahler had played his first bargaining chip. He had made clear his willingness to trade information in exchange for getting out of jail. Still, the detective needed crucial information. He met the offer with a curt reply.
“I'm not going to promise that you're going to sleep at home, and I'm not going to promise that you're going to sleep in a hotel. I can't make any promises, and you know that.”
Disappointment clouded Mahler's face.
Offering a little leeway, Small said he thought the whole thing might have been an accident. “If that is so, you need to tell me about it. Otherwise, I'm left with what I've been told by other witnesses and by evidence we find.”
Still probing for negotiation opportunities, Mahler asked if they had more than Donnie's version of what had happened. Small said that they did indeed have corroboration of Donnie's statements. “And I can tell you, we believe Donnie is telling the truth.”
Vicki Bynum returned to the room. She again made an appeal to David Mahler, to think of himself and not waste his future by getting deeper and deeper into a hole.
He expressed his understanding of the situation and acknowledged that it would be stupid to force the detectives into writing a harsh report depicting him in negative terms. Mahler realized that he needed their presentation to the district attorney (DA) to be in as favorable terms as possible.
The trio batted the issues of “doing the right thing” versus “self-preservation” back and forth for the next hour.
For Mahler, the challenge seemed to be discovery of how much evidence and how many statements had been piled up against him, but the detectives let him keep wondering.
Regarding witnesses, Tom Small played another chip. “You called your best friend up and asked him to help you get rid of a body.”
It sent Mahler into a dizzy spin. He replied, “I don't even have a best friend. Who are you talking about?” He puzzled over it and speculated, “The only person that could be is Damien. But I don't consider him as a friend. Have you looked into his history?”
Ignoring the comments, Detective Small reiterated, “Where are we going to find Kristi?”
Mahler deftly dodged it, pointing out that any kind of an answer, even if he had one, would incriminate him. After more jousting, he came up with an idea.
Mahler said, “Let's look at it hypothetically. Let's presume that I'm able to pinpoint her exact location. Let's further presume that once she's located, she won't be in good health.” He wanted to know if providing “hearsay” information to help locate her would help him avoid being jailed.
A judge would have to make that decision, said Small. “I think it would carry some weight that you stepped up and did the right thing.”
Vicki Bynum made a powerful appeal to Mahler's logic. “David, let's stop it now before it becomes an avalanche. Make it stop... . I know you are going to go the right way. I feel that about you. I think you are a decent guy, a smart guy, an accomplished person. But something has happened to you in the last six months. People I have spoken to say that something has changed in your demeanor, your behavior. I think that whatever's happened to you—whether it be drugs, financial, whatever—it has caused you to make this horrible mistake. You are not the kind of person to do something like that. But if you let it continue, it's not going to work in your benefit.”
Tom Small returned to pragmatic basics. “I want to know three things. One, where she's at. Two, where the gun is. Three, who moved her? Was it you? Or did you have help?”
David Mahler snapped, “Those are three pretty serious, incriminating statements if I were to answer any of them, aren't they?”
Now Vicki Bynum grew impatient. “Look, we've been doing this job for a long time. And you know we're not bullshitting you here, David. You know that.”
Her language seemed to impress Mahler. “I wouldn't even be talking here if I thought you were. You don't think I'm disrespecting you, I hope.”
Another half hour of gambits and verbal chess followed. As the clock ticked close to noon, Mahler said, “I'm willing to meet you halfway. But you can't ask me to give you— show you all my cards in hope that they're good enough. That's not fair.”
Small put it in clearer terms. “What you're asking me is—‘Can we deal?'”
“Not necessarily ‘deal,'” Mahler said, “but what can we do to minimize the charges?”
“I don't have anything to do with what a charge would be, other than present the facts as I obtain them.”
“What charge would you recommend if everything got answered?”
After thinking it over for a moment, Small said, “If the evidence shows it was an accident, I would say it could be involuntary. It could very well be that. I don't know. Based on the totality of the circumstances as we know it right now, we are going to continue to investigate.” He unequivocally stated, “I cannot play ‘let's make a deal.'”
Mahler appeared to withdraw, so Small offered a tidbit of encouragement. “Look, if you are the kind of person who's going to stand up and tell us where we can find her, and you're going to help us complete this part of the investigation, the DA is going to know that you helped us.”
Still dreading the thought of spending that Saturday night, Sunday, and Monday in jail, David Mahler asked if something could be done to request a judge to grant him freedom through bail or release on his own recognizance.
The subject of lunch came up at half past twelve. Mahler registered surprise. “I didn't know it was that late. Can we have a meeting with a judge in chambers before four o'clock?”
Bynum stepped out to arrange for food to be brought to the room for Mahler.
“Do you know where Kristi is?” Small repeated.
Mahler growled out, “At this point, it doesn't matter to me.” Instantly realizing his strategic error, he tried to smooth it over. “I don't mean it like that. I can't even believe I said that. I take it back completely. Pretend I never said that. What I mean is—this is my best bargaining chip, because her parents want her alive. Let me tell you this. The last time I saw her, she was alive.”
Sensing an opening, Small bored in. “Where was she hit?”
For the first time, Mahler hinted that he knew Kristi had possibly suffered a life-threatening injury. “The last—you know, the last I saw her, there was movement and there was the attempt at speech. How long does that last? I'm no doctor.”
With renewed energy, Small pushed even harder. “Where is she? If she's alive, we need to get medical attention to her.”
Mahler, though, saw the slight admission as an opportunity to request an immediate hearing with a judge to seek release in exchange for information. He voiced the suggestion. Small remained tenacious. “So it's your belief we could probably find her?”
“With my assistance, I think it's possible. And I also think you can find the gun, and a lot of other things you don't even know about... . I want bail set so I can get out of here. And then you get what you want.”
“You know I can't make any promises,” Small reasserted. “Are you telling me that you are able to find a way to locate her?”
“I am able to find a way to find her, probably in one phone call, to tell the truth. What else do you want? You want the shells? Do you want the bullets? They're all in different places. But somebody—and I'm not saying who—knows where they all are. I know you don't want anyone else using that gun, do you? Now I'm not admitting anything here. And I'm not going to admit anything. I can help you, but it's not for free.”
Putting on a facial expression of deep thought, Small said, “Let me make some phone calls.”
An attendant showed up with a sandwich and soft drink for Mahler's lunch.
Accepting it, Mahler made a request of Small. Could he also have his cell phone to call someone? He implied that it would be to the person who could supply information that the detectives wanted. In addition, he hoped to reach Stacy. “If you could work that out, that would be fabulous.”

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