Finding Treasures
Previously: The team chats with Andrew Barrington and learn of some unexpected clues Alexa Thomas left behind.
11:11 AM - Monday, November 3, 2014
US Park Police Office, Ft Winfield Scott, The Presidio
Instead of heading to Academy to talk with Alexa’s teachers, Mark suggested Jeannie go to the Thomas’s house and see if she could collect her laptop and any of the samples Amanda needed. Paco decided to go along, but suggested they stop into Amanda’s lab downstairs first.
“She needs to know what the Coroner said — maybe keep an eye out for whatever hit her.”
Amanda’s lab was pristine and organized with efficiency. Evidence was labeled and grouped on separate tables while they waited for examination. Hanging from a rolling rack at the back of the room was the orange butterfly dress, with a white tarp covering the floor below. Bits of butterfly wings were all over the table next to it; fluffy puzzle pieces waiting to find their place again. Amanda was bent over all of them with a magnifying glass. Seb’s senior year jacket was lying flat in a large plastic bag on another table nearby. Paco and Jeannie were careful not to go too far into the room, nor to touch anything.
“Hey Amanda, we have a few things we heard from the Coroner.” Paco began, and Amanda stood to her full height, an annoyed expression on her face. “So sorry to interrupt you.” Paco said softly, seeing her.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly, “was just getting into a flow. What do you have?” Paco glanced at Jeannie quickly and then went into what the Coroner said about the angled blunt object that likely hit Alexa across the chest. Amanda’s eyes squinted but she nodded at him.
“Got it. There is a bare patch on the chest region,” she said looking toward the lifeless dress, “so I’ll get close and see if there’s any other fragments in the material.”
“And…” Jeannie began, glancing at Paco, “and he also said they pulled 62 blackberry thorns from her legs and lower arms.” Amanda’s brow wrinkled at this. “I — I know, it’s awful, but I thought you should know that because only certain areas have the blackberry bushes, so it might guide your mapping. Or, you might even find more butterflies.” Jeannie gestured to the table. Amanda breathed heavily and nodded again, concern all over her face.
“This is turning into quite a case.” Amanda said softly.
Paco drove the Park Police SUV over to the Thomas house on Infantry Terrace, parking across the street again. Jeannie looked worried, glancing up at the house.
“Ready?” She asked softly.
“Yeah, right behind you.”
The two mounted the steep front stairs to the door, the Halloween skeleton had been removed from the porch chair, as had all of the pumpkins. Any indication of the last week’s frivolity was completely gone. Jeannie rang the bell and the older woman who had been there the day before opened it, face solemn.
“Hello, I’m Jean Hagen from the SFPD, and this is Paco Mayfield of the US Park Police. Is - is Mrs. Thomas home?”
“I’m Carole’s mother, Barbara Schultz. It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for all you’re doing.” She said quietly, gesturing them inside. “Carole is in the kitchen.” She guided them to the back of the house to find Carole standing at the sink staring out the window above. Matteo, the little boy, was seated at the kitchen table in a bright corner surrounded by windows. He chewed on what looked to be the first half of a PB & J, with the second half on the plate in front of him with some apple slices and chips. “Carole? The officers are here.” Barbara ventured, approaching her daughter gently. Carole turned to them slowly, her face wan and tired.
“Mrs Thomas — “ Jeannie began, “I’m sorry to come by unannounced, but we need to pick up Alexa’s computer and possibly a few other items from her room?” She said it softly; Carole almost looked dazed, but nodded at her.
“Yes. Of course.” Her voice was deep and slightly hoarse. “I’ll - I’ll take you up.” She gestured them toward the hallway. “Mom - can you try to find Eva please? She needs to eat some lunch. I think she’s hiding in the playroom.” The request was soft but worried. At the bottom of the stairs they regrouped, Carole swallowing a deep breath. “Alexa’s room is up on the third floor.” They began mounting the broad white-painted stairs which had a pleasant creak every few steps or so. When they reached the first landing, “Matteo and Eva are on this floor with us, but I thought Alexa should have some privacy.” The stairs to the third floor narrowed a bit as they went higher. “Also, the rooms are a little quirky up here, so I was happy to let her have them. She - she kind of did what she wanted. But Spiro’s office is up here too. I gave Spiro the least dodgy one, and then let Alexa have the other bedroom and the storage rooms for her desk and workspace. She loved it.” Carole’s voice wavered as they arrived on the third floor. “That’s Spiro’s office there on the left.” She looked at the closed door apprehensively. “Can you, can you just wait here a moment?”
She moved to the door and knocked gently and then entered. They heard her murmured conversation with her husband, and within a moment the door re-opened and both Carole and Spiro stood there. Spiro looking thin and haunted compared to the day before. He wore tattered jeans and a grey sweatshirt, a deeper shadow of whiskers gracing his jawline.
“Thank you for coming.” The father said to them, “please let us know what we can do to help.” His voice was also hoarse, barely above a whisper. Glancing at Paco, Jeannie nodded at him.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll - I’ll show you Alexa’s room. I’ve kept it shut since Age-Agent Greenberg said I should keep everyone out of there.”
“Thank you, that’s helpful.” Spiro nodded at them and looked at his wife painfully before easing his way back into his office. Jeannie wondered if he was working at all or just wanted to be alone. What is this day like for them?
Carole opened the door to the bedroom and ushered them inside. It was small but bright, with a bohemian flair that was more sophisticated than what Jeannie expected for a 17 year-old. The queen-sized bed was against one wall, dressed with a white duvet adorned with an Indian woodblock paisley print in deep pink. The reverse of the print created the upholstery of the headboard. Colorful Moroccan lanterns hung from the ceiling in a cluster in one corner, with a mass of cushions below it on a white Moroccan shag rug. Magazines were all over the floor there, with a stack propped up in the corner. A small nightstand next to the bed had a more practical lamp, with books stacked below. A large monstera plant lived in one corner near the windows, and a reading chair with a floor lamp was on the opposite side. In the closet, Jeannie spied clothing left on the floor next to a full hamper, and an array of shoes scattered.
“This is the bedroom, obviously, but her workroom was through here.” Carole moved toward the doorway in the far wall where a door had been taken off of its hinges. They followed her through to the second room to find a mini fashion studio set up. A waist-high table had scissors and pattern blocks all over it, with boxes of trimmings, including a box of the orange butterflies they were looking for. A dress form stood in the corner, bare but for a number of stick pins protruding from the neck and twill tape attached to indicate center, hip, waist, and bust lines. A bulletin board covered the opposite wall from the baseboard to the crown molding, an overwhelming assortment of magazine images, ephemera, and photographs covering the surface. Next to it, a glass fronted Ikea cabinet held an array of hats, shoes, and handbags, all of them clearly vintage.
“Wow, this is amazing.” Jeannie said quietly. Carole had a slight smile on her face. “I would have loved to have something like this when I was growing up.”
“Well, she really used it — made the most of it.” Carole’s voice faltered again, her eyes welling.
“What are these pieces in the cupboard?”
“Oh, they’re, they’re vintage things she’s found over the years — she loves — loved — to go to thrift stores and vintage stores, and flea markets…she always had a knack for finding treasures.” Carole’s face twisted as she looked into the cabinet with Jeannie. Paco stood looking over the images coving the bulletin board.
“Mrs Thomas, what are all of these images?” He asked quietly.
“Oh, just whatever she liked. She didn’t like Pinterest much, she wanted to see everything at once. She liked all of her ideas and moments all together. She made sense of them all. And then sometimes she’d just take them all down and file them away and start over again.” Carole sighed looking at the board. “But a lot are just pictures of her friends too.”
“This little bag is beautiful - the one right here at the front?” Jeannie said, pointing slightly.
“Oh, actually I - I meant to get that one. It was her favorite.” The bag was a small clasp purse in pale jade silk with embroidered and beaded multi-colored roses. A delicate chain hung from the metal frame. “It was her mother’s. It’s so fragile - she never let anyone touch it. I - I thought she’d want it with her.” Carole sobbed slightly, closing her eyes. Jeannie watched her as she caught her breath and gave her a slight smile when she opened her eyes again and moved to open the glass door. Carole delicately pulled the purse out, squeezing the silk panels. “Wait —” her brow knitted as she looked at it closely, “there’s there’s something inside. I can feel it.” She glanced at Jeannie and moved to work the clasp of the bag. It sprang open, revealing a folded envelope wedged inside. Jeannie’s gut dropped and reached out gently to still Carole’s arm.
“Paco?” Jeannie said quietly, pulling on a set of latex gloves from her pocket. He moved to put on his own gloves and came over to them. “This may not be anything,” Jeannie said gently to Carole, “but I want us to be very careful just in case. Paco - will you take some photos please?” Paco snapped a few photos of the bag from the top and side. “I’m going to pull out whatever this is, okay?” Her eyes met Carole’s which looked perturbed. Jeannie gently reached directly down into the bag and fit her fingers around the stiff envelope. “You said that Alexa never let anyone touch this?”
“Y-yes, it was her mother’s and she forbade anyone - no one was even supposed to go into that case. Whenever the girls game over she made sure no one even went near it. She tied the knobs with a ribbon. It was her special collection —” Jeannie pulled the envelope free and glanced at Paco whose eyes were wide.
The envelope was a standard size but bent in double. The contents weren’t thick, per se, but there was definitely more than one piece of paper inside. The front side was blank, but the back side where the envelope sealed was Alexa’s signature written across the closure, with the date of 7/7/2014.
“This is Alexa’s signature?” Jeannie asked Carole who nodded.
“Yes - what do you think it is? This is scaring me.” Paco took photos of the envelope in Jeannie’s hand, front and back. Jeannie moved to the work table and found a pair of large scissors. Opening them, she ran the pointed blade under the envelope flap as Paco photographed her movement. Cut made, she returned the heavy scissors to the table and pulled out the pages. She unfolded only the top flap, to read what was there:
“Statement of Alexa Thomas on the events of July 4, 2014 at the Hartman residence, Lake Tahoe, California.” Jeannie stopped, swallowing a breath. She wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Mrs. Thomas, we need to take this with us, the bag too. We will need to fingerprint it to make sure no one other than Alexa could have placed it inside, but I promise the bag will be returned to you — to Alexa.” She whispered this last reassurance. “Do you want me read this to you?”
Carole stared off into space for a long moment.
“No…no I don’t think so. I — I mean, I want to know what happened, but I don’t think I can hear it today.” She whispered.
“Very well. And thank you.” Carole’s eyes snapped back to Jeannie’s. “We probably wouldn’t have found this without you, and it could be a very significant piece of evidence.” Jeannie nodded at her. Paco had brought evidence bags in his small kit, and produced one for the bag and envelope. Carole watched them place it inside, and something seemed to break.
“I — I can’t watch this, I’m sorry.” She moved toward the door. “Take whatever you need.” Tears escaped down Carole’s cheek as she moved out of the room quickly.
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