“They know you did it. You know what, I think you can do them a favor and let them know why, this is why it happened.”
“I love my children even though you’re…”
Detective Moule did not permit Susan to complete her thought. “A lie,” he interjected, his voice rising. “You might as well be spitting in their faces right now.”
“I didn’t do it, no way, that’s ridiculous.”
“You think they’re gonna think that you didn’t do this? They know you did it. Explain why. Tell Detective Costa why and he can document, this is why, this is what’s going on, this is the background, these are the problems.
“You’re going, ‘I didn’t do that.’ They’re going, ‘Bull shit, my mom just killed my father.’”
Detective Costa cut in. “Susan, you’re obviously a smart woman. You have a nice background and everything. Think this through. You’re not gonna get away with this. It’s a done deal.
“We know about how you went up and cleaned up. It’s all figured out. There’s scientists collecting that stuff. You’re not gonna beat this. You’re done. You’re caught up.”
“I didn’t kill my husband. And I would think that nowadays, you know, that you would rely on more than guesswork or, you know, what children in the middle of a divorce would say. I mean you do have technological expertise and I’m sure you’ll figure it out. But I didn’t do it.”
“Well, we’ve already figured out enough to know that you were involved.”
“I was not involved.”
“Your family is a lot more involved than just an argument here and there.”
“Pardon me?” Susan was indignant.
“There’s a lot more going on in your family than just an argument here and there between a couple,” Detective Moule repeated.
“My husband really loved me and the kids, you know, I know that, and he just, you know, I was very fond…”
“I’m sure he did,” Moule interjected. “Did you love him?”
Susan hesitated. “I was very fond…”
The detective looked directly at Susan and demanded, “Did you love him?”
“I did for many years.”
“But not lately.”
“No, I didn’t love him anymore.”
“Did you hate him?” Detective Moule asked.
“No.”
With the progression of the questions, it became clear that the detectives were not going to obtain a confession. Though the evidence was mounting, investigators could not convince Susan to confess to the crime. Costa insisted that she free herself from the “dream world” in which she was living.
“I’ve been living in a dream world for many years,” Susan replied.
“Well, it’s time to get out of that world, and let’s face reality here.”
“No, I didn’t kill him,” Susan insisted.
“Yeah, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Detective Costa continued to push. “This is how you want to leave it, just deny, deny, deny, lie, lie, lie, let me live in my little fantasy world and say I wasn’t involved, when everything is going to certainly tell us you were. I’m confident of that. I have no doubts about that.”
Susan looked up. “Well, apparently you seem pretty sure that I did it, so there’s nothing that I can really say that’s gonna dissuade you, it seems like.”
“The truth is always good.”
“So maybe the scientific evidence will help,” Susan said.
“I’m sure it will,” Detective Costa nodded. “That’s how you want to leave it, huh?”
“I didn’t do it…. I’m very, very tired,” Susan declared. “If you’re gonna put me in jail, put me in jail, so I can go to sleep, okay?”
Detective Costa smirked. “We’re taking care of that.”
Chapter Six
A GRISLY SCENE
It was just before 7:30 AM on Tuesday, October 15, when Alex Taflya and Song Wicks of the Contra Costa Sheriff’s Office pulled up the steep driveway at 728 Miner Road. Rays of early morning sun streamed through the branches of the soaring oak trees surrounding the home. The residence felt more like an expansive tree house than a million dollar estate with its hilltop location, tangle of lofty trees and thick foliage. Detectives Jeff Moule and Mike Costa were waiting on the large wood deck between the main house and cottage to brief the criminalists.
When he was first summoned to the scene the previous night, Costa performed a preliminary investigation of the main house where he observed damp washcloths in the shower stall of the master bathroom. It made sense, since Susan told him she had showered around 8 PM that night. During his search, he also located a steak knife with its tip slightly bent and a small piece of unidentified material stuck to it in the dishwasher. Despite these items from the main house, he was convinced that the crime scene did not extend beyond the redwood cottage where the seventy-year-old victim lay in a pool of his own blood.
On this return trip, Costa and his team focused on the cottage in their search for bloody clothing; expended bullet casings; unfired cartridges; trace evidence on the floors, walls, countertops, and drains; any evidence that might be linked to the homicide. Upon arrival, the investigators agreed with the initial assessment that there was no forced entry into the cottage. The door located on the north side of the pool house was open, and the entire house was dark. In fact, the blinds were drawn throughout the cottage, including those on the sliding glass doors on the west side of the living room near the victim’s body and those on the south side of the bedroom in the rear of the house. In the kitchen, the windows were closed but not locked, and the blinds were shut so that only cracks of sunlight were visible.
The kitchen was small, with barely enough room for the small, cafe-like wood table set beneath the bay window. The cabinetry was worn, with white paint chipping in spots. A delicate set of plates and saucers of blue and white bone china was displayed on one wall. While there was nothing of interest on the linoleum countertops, investigators noticed a partial bloody shoe print on the small, multicolor rug beneath the sink. More bloody shoe prints were observed on the wood floor in the hallway leading to the living area, as well as on the landing to the north of the living room, and again on the terra cotta tile on the living room floor, creating a trail that most likely indicated the killer’s path around the cottage.
A foul smell grew stronger as the officers neared the body that lay face up on the living room floor. More than thirty hours had passed since Susan and her husband had engaged in what would be their final argument, and Felix’s body had been left in the sealed cottage. Standing over the corpse, police carefully documented and photographed its position. Felix Polk was lying on his back, with his legs pointing toward the kitchen and his arms outstretched at a forty-five-degree angle as if he’d fallen backward when he died. His eyes were wide open, and there were rivulets of blood on the front and right side of his face. His head was facing the bedroom at the rear of the cottage, and there was blood on the leather chair directly behind the victim’s head.
The scene was grisly, with “a great deal” of blood on and around the victim’s body, the investigators noted in their report. Blood smears and spatter revealed that a violent struggle had taken place. An ottoman had been turned upside down, and an open book lay next to Felix’s left foot. Police observed that there was blood on one side of the ottoman but not on the top, which led them to conclude that it was knocked over early in the struggle, before any blood was spilled. There was also blood of a “medium velocity” found on the book, indicating that the victim had most likely been stabbed and/or beaten.
While there had been much talk about a shotgun, there was no indication that a gun of any kind had been
