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CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

HUNTINGTON BEACH, CALIFORNIA

THURSDAY, MARCH 30, 2023

10:00 A.M.

On Thursday morning Monica and Ray showed up at the courthouse in Huntington Beach bright and early for the hearing where Joel and Marc were to be charged. Appearing with their court-appointed attorneys, they both arrived wearing orange jail jumpsuits and shackles. When it came time for their pleas, Marc, despite his handwritten confession, pled not guilty to the murder of Charles Brewster, but he waived his right to an extradition hearing. Joel pled not guilty to assault with a deadly weapon and unlawful imprisonment in addition to the Brewster homicide charge. Ray felt certain that bank fraud and theft charges would be added at a later date. Joel, however, insisted on the extradition hearing.

After a discussion with Chief Nelson, it was decided that Marc Atherton would be released into Detective Burns’s custody so she could accompany him back to Seattle on the first available flight. Meanwhile Detective Horn would remain in Huntington Beach where, with some local assistance, he would pore through the mountains of digital evidence that had been obtained from the collection of electronic devices they had gathered in the course of executing their search warrants.

Once Monica and Marc Atherton were on their way north, Ray and Detective Ortega settled into the Tech Unit’s conference room where mounds of computer printouts awaited them. Since Monica had managed to extract password information from Marc Atherton, there had been no need to break into his devices. Instead, they simply logged on. By afternoon they had printed out years’ worth of texts, emails, contact information, and search histories from Joel’s computer. However, they needed something more.

Of the devices seized by officers during the search of Joel’s residence and vehicle, there were three—a laptop, an iPad, and a phone—which presumably belonged to Adam Brewster. Rather than having the techs break into them, Ray Horn placed a call to Huntington Beach Hospital.

As he dialed the number, Ray wasn’t sure what to expect, but after being connected to a room, Adam answered the phone after a single ring. He sounded far better than Ray had anticipated.

“Detective Horn here,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“Fairly well,” Adam said. “The doctor said I was lucky. If the knife had gone half an inch deeper, it would have perforated my large intestine and that would have been a whole other ball game. The problem is, in trying to get away from the knife, I fell backward. I don’t know what I hit—the wall or the floor, maybe, but it was enough to give me a concussion and a minor brain bleed, so they’re treating me for that.”

“How soon until they release you?”

“Probably tomorrow or the next day, but since I’ve been told my home is still considered a crime scene, I’ll stay with friends in Santa Ana until I get the all clear. What’s happening with the investigation?”

Since it was still an active investigation, there wasn’t much Ray could say, but he told Adam about that shovel found in Joel’s Camaro, which had suggested to investigators that Joel had intended to knock Adam off and bury him in the desert somewhere between Huntington Beach and Tijuana, where Joel had been scheduled to board an early morning flight to Mexico City.

“Do you remember what you were lying on when you were locked in the trunk?” Ray asked.

“Vaguely,” Adam said. “It felt like something plastic, but it also felt soft—sort of like one of those old beanbag chairs.”

“It was actually a layer of plastic bags stuffed full of shredded paper—including lots of shredded sales receipts. My partner, Detective Burns, was able to piece some of them together. Were you aware that every time Joel went out to buy groceries or anything else for your household, he always took as much cash back as possible?”

“I noticed things seemed to be a lot more expensive than they used to be,” Adam replied, “but I thought it was due to inflation.”

“Some of it might be,” Ray said, “but I suspect the big difference is him sticking you with a surcharge. I don’t know how much exactly. In order to find that out, we’d have to put all those pieces of paper back together, and that would be a huge undertaking.”

“I’ll bet Jimmy Fisk, my banker, can get to the bottom of it,” Adam said. “Joel used a debit card to do the shopping, so the bank will have the transaction numbers. With those they should be able to go back to the various retailers and get copies of the actual receipts.”

“Based on those large checks he cashed recently, Joel’s already facing felony theft charges, but there is something else we need from you. Two cell phones were found in Joel’s Camaro. One of them is his regular cell and one is his burner.”

“Joel had a burner?” Adam asked incredulously.

“Yes, he did,” Ray told him. “A phone with only one number in the call history—Marc Atherton’s. We’re looking at probably hundreds of texts and calls over the past number of years, many of them of a very personal nature.”

“He really was cheating on me, then?” Adam asked.

“So it would appear,” Ray told him. “By the way, while we were executing the search warrant of his residence, some of your devices were also seized.”

“Because it happens to be my residence, too,” Adam muttered.

“Correct, so if you don’t mind, we’ll need passwords for those.”

“No problem,” Adam said.

With the password information in hand, Ray returned to the TU where he and Detective Ortega went to work reading through the extracted text histories. As they did so, everything became clear. Both Joel and Marc had been up to their eyeteeth in the conspiracy, with Adam completely in the dark. Everything pointed to the idea that once Joel learned the extent of Chuck Brewster’s wealth, he had become Joel’s primary target, banking on the idea that Adam would be Chuck’s ultimate heir. After all, any inheritance that landed in Adam’s lap would eventually end up in Joel’s.

“There you have it,” Detective Ortega concluded, “the first commandment in the homicide cop bible—follow the money!”

“Right,” Ray Horn replied, “and that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

In Adam’s text history, Ray located the week in late January and found the exact day where Adam had first contacted his father. The text time was listed as 1:41 p.m.

Adam: I did it. I finally did what you’ve been saying I should do all along. I worked up my courage and called my dad at work.

Joel: How did it go?

Adam: Amazing. I was afraid he’d just hang up on me, but he didn’t. In fact, he sounded happy to hear from me—really happy. We talked for a good hour and a half. Before the call ended, he invited us to his upcoming birthday party in Edmonds, Washington. I’m not sure of the date, but I wrote it down. I’ll get the details from him so you can put it in the calendar.

Joel: You said the invited us. Does that mean you told him about me?

Adam: I did. And if he’s over my being gay, then maybe I should be able to be over him marrying Clarice.

Wait,” Ortega said, shuffling through his stack of printouts. “What day was that, and what phone?”

“January 26, Joel’s cell.”

“Okay, I’m seeing that conversation here on Adam’s cell phone, too. The only other topic I’m seeing between them for that day is…”

“?‘What’s for dinner and when will you be home,’?” Ray finished, using the next text on Adam’s phone to complete the exchange.

“Yes, but looky here,” Ortega said a moment later.

“What?”

“Here’s a text to Marc’s phone from the burner. It’s time is 3:05 p.m.”

Joel: Adam finally did it. He got off his dead ass and called his father like I’ve been telling him to do for years. Guess what? His dad was overjoyed to hear from him. He’s ready to forgive and forget. He even invited the two of us to come to his birthday party sometime in March.

Marc: Are you going to go?

Joel: I doubt it. Adam’s furious. He said he was hoping for an actual apology. He says if his father thinks an invitation to a party will make up for disowning Adam while he was still in high school or cheating on his mother while she was dying of cancer, then he’s sadly mistaken.

“But that’s the exact opposite of what Adam actually said,” Ortega objected.

“Yes, it is,” Ray agreed.

“So you think this is the beginning of the whole thing?” Ortega asked.

Ray thought about that for a moment. “I doubt it,” he said. “I’m guessing that started about the same time Joel got his first hint about Charles Brewster’s net worth. But this is where Joel lies to Marc to lure him into making him believe that Adam Brewster hates his father and wants him dead. These are baby steps, but they’re the start, and the start of something else, too.”

“What?” Ortega asked.

“A possible plea agreement. Did you read Marc’s confession?”

“No, but you told me about it—that Joel told Marc that Adam Brewster hated his father and was willing to fork over a cool hundred thou to have Chuck Brewster out of the way.”

“What we have here in this pile of computer printouts,” Ray said, “is overwhelming evidence that Joel was the instigator who drew Marc into the plot with lies and deceptions. As far as I’m concerned, that makes Joel even more culpable than the guy who wielded the knife. If the prosecutors offer Marc a plea of second degree, he can testify against Joel, and everything we have here will corroborate what he’s saying.”

“What do we do now?” Eddie Ortega asked.

“Keep reading and see how early on the two of them started talking about Chuck Brewster’s money.”