Look Closely (23 page)

making

mention

of

the

day

and

time

whenever

he

jottedsomething.Hisfirstfewnotationswereoften

similar,suchas“highsuspicionofdomesticabuse.”

ThenextonesindicatedhehadinterviewedWil iam Sutter, the husband of the deceased, as wel as Dan Sutter, son. According to the note he’d jotted afterward,
“The statements of Mr.

William Sutter and Mr. Dan Sutter appear rehearsed and strikingly similar. Covering for each other?”
Then he wrote,
“Physical abuse—husband, son or boyfriend?”

The sickness riding my insides deepened. Had my father or my brother struck my mother? Had they hidden it together? I’d never seen Dan again, after al . Perhaps he had been told to run, to stay away, the same thing he was doing now in New Orleans. Had they done it because they had discovered the relationship with her boyfriend? That man on the beach, the man at the front door on the night she died?

I flipped through pages looking for the dictated summary of the interrogation of my father. Upstairs, my neighbors kicked off a party. Blaring musicandpoundingfootfal scameclearlythrough my ceiling. I found the interview and began to read. Wil iam Sutter and his wife had been separated three weeks, he had told Chief Manning, but they’d not yet filed for divorce. He was hoping for areconciliation.Thereasonsfortheseparation,he said, were his need to live in Chicago during the week and his wife’s affair. He had just found out about the infidelity. She admitted this to him and told him it had been going on for less than a year. Sherefusedtotel himthenameofthemanshewas involved with, and Mr. Sutter indicated he did not have any idea as to who that person might be. Mr. Sutterdeniedanysuggestionthathehadabusedhis wife. He was described by Chief Manning as distraught. The interview had to be stopped on more than one occasion because Mr. Sutter was crying.

I felt a wave of sympathy for my father. If he had told Chief Manning the truth, then in the span of a month, he’d found out his wife was having an affair, become separated and endured the trauma of her death. But Manning hadn’t believed my father, because he made that notation after the interview wondering whether the abuse had been caused by Wil iam, Dan or the boyfriend. Was that why my father had been crying?

I turned next to the interview with Dan. My brother was portrayed as quiet and aloof, tel ing Chief Manning that he had been out drinking beer with his friends, since he believed both parents would be gone from the house that night. He did not know where his mother had been intending to go, but he thought she might have been planning an evening with her boyfriend. Dan claimed not to know the identity of his mother’s male friend. He denied physical abuse in the family household. At the end of the report, Manning indicated his belief that Dan was withholding information and that his story appeared rehearsed. He also noted that Dan had been arrested one year prior on charges of battery with another student fol owing an incident at a high-school bonfire.

I tucked my legs under me on the couch. So Dan had added to Manning’s suspicion about domestic abuse. He’d been arrested for battery before.

I flipped back to Manning’s notes and fol owed them down the pages, looking for the date of my own interview or that of my sister. I came first to Del a’s. Del a had said she was aware, of course, that the Sutters were separated, but she knew nothing about an extramarital affair on the part of Leah Sutter. On the night in question, she had left after making dinner for Leah, Caroline and Hailey Sutter. Leah had seemed happy and excited. She told Del a that she had plans for the night and that Caroline was going to stay home and babysit Hailey.

I continued to read Chief Manning’s notes. He hadn’t been able to interview Caroline or Hailey Sutter right away, he said, because Caroline was under the care of a doctor, who recommended that the interview be put off. In addition, my father had requested that I be spared unless it was absolutely necessary. A brief telephone interview was held with Caroline’s physician, Dr. Randal Wainer, a family practitioner in Woodland Dunes. He confirmed that Caroline was suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome and was being medicated.

What had Caroline seen? What had she done?

I had a mild memory of Dr. Wainer as a kind, older gentlemen who saw the Sutter family for colds and shots and ankle sprains. I wondered if he was stil in Woodland Dunes, if maybe he could be convinced into tel ing me something about Caroline and what she had said during those few days after my mother’s death. On a whim, I went to the computer and logged on to the Internet, then began searching for Dr. Randal Wainer on the Web site of the American Medical Association. I found one physician with that name, but he lived in Newark and had graduated from medical school just a few years ago. The Dr. Wainer I remembered would be at least eighty by now, probably older.

I ran an obituary search and found what I feared: Dr. Randal Wainer of Woodland Dunes, Michigan, had passed away in the early 1990s.

Another idea occurred to me. I wouldn’t be able to speak to Dr. Wainer, but there were other doctors who had treated Caroline—those at the Crest-wood Home in Connecticut. Maybe I shouldn’t leave for Chicago so fast. I was only a short drive from Connecticut. I pul ed up the Crestwood Home Web site and copied down the address and phone number. I would cal them tomorrow on Sunday and leave a message.

It was almost midnight by the time I picked up the police records again, my eyes growing heavy. I decided to take them to my bedroom, and, after changing into a pair of old, worn pajamas, I plumped the pil ows against my headboard and went back to reading.

Chief Manning had final y been able to interview Caroline a few days after my mother’s death. He described the interview as very difficult, due to Caroline’s insistence on one-word answers. Like Dan, Caroline was accompanied by a criminal lawyer from my father’s law firm, and even her attorney had requested on a few occasions that she be more forthcoming, but Caroline remained withdrawn and quiet. Because of this, the interview took numerous hours and two sessions until Caroline became more cooperative. Eventual y, she confirmed that her mother had been preparing to go out on the night in question, and Caroline had intended to babysit her younger sister, Hailey.

According to Chief Manning, he believed Caroline’s version of the events up to this point, but when she was asked who my mother had been intendingtoseethatnight,hereyesturneddowncast, and she withdrew again. She didn’t know, she said, and she refused to change her answer. When asked about her mother’s injury, she said Leah had been talking to her and Hailey at the top of the stairs when she had stumbled and fal en. When asked about her mother’s body positioning and exactly howshehadmovedleadinguptothefal ,Caroline’s answer changed subtly, causing Manning to doubt her description of the events. Caroline’s lawyer final y protested, cal ing the interrogation “police harassment,” and Caroline was al owed to leave.

I leaned my head back against the headboard, letting the papers fal to my lap. The top of the stairs. According to Caroline, we’d both been standing there with my mom when she fel . I could envision the stairs clearly since I’d just visited the old house. I tried to put myself back there in my mind’s eye, before my mother staggered to the door holding her head, before that next morning. I forced my thoughts away from the sounds of the party above me and tried to dial my memory back. I had a spark of recol ection of my mother in the powder-blue suit, dressed up for the night as I had rarely seen her. Her face was nervous and slightly flushed, her milky-brown eyes wide. She said something to Caroline and me, some explanation.

Caroline gave a harsh laugh, like a dog’s bark, a foreign, ugly sound coming from my sister’s throat.

I was startled away from the memory by a sudden pounding, like someone fal ing, which came from directly above me. The neighbors’ party. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I couldn’t bring it back, and I felt taxed by the effort. I would read the rest of the records tomorrow.

I pul ed a pil ow over my head to block out the sounds of the city, but it didn’t matter. Al I could hearwasCaroline’scoarse,uglylaughoverandover.

18

I took a shorter run than usual on Sunday morning. The city was relatively quiet, since many people had already started their summer sojourns to the Hamptons, and the rest of the population was sleeping off their hangovers. But stil , the ever-present smoky exhaust, along with the stale-beer smel from the al eys, made me claustrophobic today. Instead of taking my usual jogging path, replete with packs of cars and people, I ran down side streets to Washington Square Park and did smal loops around it.

The run didn’t calm me the way it normal y did. I was overly aware of the couples who shared the Sunday
Times
on benches and the three girlfriends who walked with paper coffee cups, laughing about their evening escapades.

After a quick shower, I dressed in light khaki pants and a white T-shirt. Gathering the police records and my cel phone, I left the apartment. I simply couldn’t spend another hour in there. I should enjoy the city, even if I did it by myself.

At

my

local

coffee

shop,

I

bought

the
Times
,a largelatteandacranberryscone.Imanagedtoscore one of the outdoor metal tables and settled myself there,makingsuretokeepmybacktothewal .That feeling of being watched had made me cautious.

I nibbled the scone and sipped the coffee. I tried to read the paper first, focusing on the business section and the book reviews, but my thoughts strayed to the police records. I was nervous to read the summary of my own interview with Chief Manning. I had a prickling of fear that I might not like what I found.

But it was no use being fearful of a piece of paper, so I put the
Times
aside and lifted the stack of records from my bag, locating Chief Manning’s notes first. Once again, I fol owed them as he recorded every step he took on the case and the date he performed the action. Along the way, he continued to make indications that he strongly suspected abuse and that he was intent on finding Leah Sutter’s boyfriend. However, despite pleas in the local news for this man to come forward, no one had admitted to dating Leah Sutter. According to Chief Manning, this made him even more suspicious about the involvement of the boyfriend. I couldn’t blame him. Why wouldn’t the person show himself and help the police? An affair was tricky information, something that could destroy whole families, but it wasn’t akin to murder.

I kept reading Chief Manning’s notes until I found one that stopped me—“Interview with Hai-ley Sutter, daughter, age 7, May 24.” I took a sip of my coffee. I crumbled some of the scone between my fingers. Final y, I thumbed back through the rest of the documents until I found the typed report. Manning wrote: Hailey Sutter is a seven year old Caucasian female. She appeared with her father and John Matchman, a criminal lawyer with Mr. Sutter’s law firm in Chicago. She was cooperative and forthcoming with her answers and speaks in the manner of a child her age. However, she had little, if any, recol ection of the night in question, except to say that her mother just slipped and fel down the stairs. She recal s events from earlier that day in detail, including attending riding lessons with a friend named Patsy. (Her father volunteered that this child is Patricia Nawden, also of Woodland Dunes). She also remembers that the Sutter housekeeper, Del a Castaneda, retrieved her and Patsy from the stable and drove Patsy home, and then transported Hailey to the Sutter house. She could not identify the time (confirm this with Ms. Castaneda). Hailey could also recal Ms. Castaneda preparing a snack when they arrived home. She then states that she played in her room for the next few hours. The child insists that she recal s nothing after this point, except when asked what happened to her mother, she states simply, “Mama fel down the stairs,” and “She just slipped,” but could not elaborate any further. She does not yet seem to grasp that her mother is gone, but this is not uncommon in deaths of parents of young children.

And that was it. Nothing more. Nothing il uminating real y. Just a little recol ection about riding withPatsyandastatementthatmymotherhadfal en.

I set the records on the table and took a bite of my scone, not real y tasting it. I felt disappointed somehow. It was odd that I would have remembered so little, especial y if I’d been with my mom when she died. Had I been a good liar, trained already by my father to tel falsities to cover for the family? The thought was repugnant, but there it was, and after the half truths I discovered lately on my father’s behalf, it seemed horribly plausible.

The crowd going in and out of the coffee shop had increased. There was too much traffic around my table now to be relaxing, but I was determined to get through the rest of the records. I pushed the sconeawayandbeganskimmingthenotesandother interviews, looking for anything of importance. It seemedthatManninghadcanvasedthecommunity, asking for any information on the identity of Mrs. Sutter’s male friend. A few people claimed to have seen Leah on the beach with a dark haired man, but no one knew his name. One of the witnesses suggested that it “must have been a summer person.”

I continued skimming Chief Manning’s notes. Near the end, he wrote,
Mr. William Sutter called in for additional interrogation. May 31.

I scrambled until I found the typed summary of the second interview with my father. It was brief.

Wil iam Sutter presents the same as the last time interviewed. That is to say he is an attractive,wel -dressedgentlemanwhoappears distraught by his estranged wife’s death. Mr. Sutter reiterates that a fal was the cause of death and not any domestic abuse on the part of himself or his son. Mr. Sutter continues to disavow any knowledge of the identity of his wife’scompanion.Thewitnessappearscredible in his assertions. This interviewer is inclined to close this case in order to bring an end to the suffering Leah Sutter’s death has caused this family and the community.