Chapter 17
Chief Edward Wurroll was a large, rotund, balding, white man in his late 50s who had seen plenty of shenanigans in his thirty-two-year law enforcement career at Carolina Beach. He had climbed through the small department’s ranks, avoiding the political pitfalls that sank others. He always knew how to play the current mayor to his advantage.
He had started out as a foot cop in the summer of 1980, working the then-much-seedier boardwalk area, a six-block zone dominated by honky-tonk bars that featured both kinds of music: country and country rock. And featured fights with both kinds of weapons: pistols and broken beer bottles.
He once got slashed on the side of his face by a broken Miller High Life beer bottle while trying to break up a saloon fight in the boardwalk area in the mid-70s. The U-shaped scar was very obvious below his left eye. It was hard to stop noticing. He had got used to the stares and long gazes.
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Susan pulled into the Carolina Beach Municipal Office Facility at 9:55 AM. She got out of the blue Dodge Neon somewhat unsteadily and walked over to the glass and metal door and pulled it open. There was an older, white, female receptionist, maybe about sixty-five years old, sitting inside. She glanced up at Susan as she entered the atrium.
“I’m here to talk with Chief Wurroll,” Susan stuttered as she whimpered.
“Right this way, ma’am,” the receptionist informed as she led her down a central hallway, turning left at the end.
The chief’s door was partially open. The receptionist spoke through the crack. “Susan van Buren is here, sir.”
“Ok, very good. Send her in.”
Susan entered the relatively new, yet fairly spartan, office. “Hello, sir,” she mouthed with hardly any force.
“I’m truly sorry, Mrs. van Buren. No matter how old I get, this never gets any easier. May I call you Susan?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” You can call me anything.
“Susan, you can see Mark’s body after we talk. His corpse is at the Medical Center’s morgue in Wilmington.” Corpse? Gosh, this real. Mark’s dead. He’s gone.
“Thank you, sir.” Susan looked at the lone framed photo of the chief and his family of four. Two all-American sons and a devoted-looking wife: a portrait of pride.
“Susan, Mark was found in a rental car that went off the Snow’s Cut Bridge early this morning. The car sank in the waterway. Did you two come down here together?” He went off that tall bridge? What in the world!
“Uh, no, we didn’t, sir.” Does he really think that I had a hand in Mark’s death? Am I a suspect in some kind of heinous crime? Did Mark get involved in a drug deal that went bad? Was his car forced off the bridge?
“Were you two staying together at the Dauphin Reign Motel?” The chief raised his eyebrows.
“No, we weren’t, sir. We were estranged. Our marriage was on the rocks as they say. I didn’t even know my husband was down here. Maybe he was following me out of curiosity.” She felt almost proud of her forthrightness.
“You can relax, Susan. I know you’re telling the truth. What you have told me checks out. You are not a suspect – just a person of interest as we say in the law enforcement field.” Thank God!
The chief leaned to his left side and scratched his lower back with his scarred right hand. I wonder what happened to his hand. It looks like he submerged it in a fryer vat.
Then he sat up straight and continued. “This is a small town on a relatively small island. We already know that Mark had checked into another motel. Just a few more questions and we’ll be done. I know this is hard.”
“Sure. No problem, sir.” So far, so good.
“Did you ever see Mark down here, even for just a glance?” The chief looked very interested in her answer.
“No, I swear that I never saw him down here – anywhere,” Susan stated emphatically. “I was very surprised to learn that he was at Carolina Beach, sir.”
Chief Wurroll then placed Mark’s cell phone on his desk. “Do you recognize this cell phone?”
“Yes, I do; it’s Mark’s.” Thank God I didn’t send him any hateful, four-letter-laced texts. Well, not recently.
“Susan, we found Mark’s cell phone in the motel where he was staying from Friday evening to early Saturday morning, just prior to his accident on the bridge. It was slightly damaged, but our IT whiz was able to restore most of its functionality. I’m going to play for you a short audio recording that was stored on it.” Oh no, what could this be?
The chief then pressed a series of buttons on Mark’s cell phone. The audio file was about two minutes of her and Rick having sex on Friday afternoon, but the chief only played about ten seconds of it.
Susan blushed. She was shocked. She turned her head down in shame. How in the world did Mark get in my motel room and record this? How in the world did he get under the bed without me or Rick noticing? What was he up to?
“Sir, I feel totally humiliated and devastated. I met Rick on the beach. It was just a casual hookup to boost my self-esteem. I had never done this before. Really. I thought it would be harmless fun. Rick said that he thought I was sexy. I hadn’t heard that for a very long time. I wasn’t feeling good about myself. My marriage was failing. Mark didn’t love me anymore. It felt good to be desired after being ignored for so long. I never knew Mark was in the motel room, I swear. I’m not that kinky. I would never knowingly have sex with another man and let my husband record the sounds. Never.”
“Listen, it’s ok. Your sex life is not our business. I just want to ask you: Why do you think Mark was in your motel room? Do you think he recorded you two for a future divorce-court proceeding?”
“All of this is so shocking to me, sir. Mark’s death. Mark secretly being in my motel room recording me. I guess that is what he planned on using that recording for. I don’t have any other ideas on why he would do that. I’m really just blown away by all of this, sir. I admit that I wanted a divorce from Mark, but I most certainly didn’t want him to die. I swear I didn’t. This all hurts so much.” Gee, I hope there aren’t any more humiliating tidbits on Mark’s cell phone. Does he have video on it, too? Dear God, I hope not.
The chief digested what Susan served up and resumed the questioning. “Had Mark double-crossed anyone recently? Say, a bad business dealing? Did he owe anyone money?” Form questions.
“No, sir. No one that I know of.”
“Did you have anything that was his?”
Susan thought for a few seconds. “Well, we share the car. We had two cars, but when money got tight, we got rid of one of them.” It wasn’t really our choice, but he won’t know that.
“I see.”
“Maybe my husband wanted the keys to the Neon. But, didn’t you say that he crashed in a rental car?”
“I did,” the chief restated.
“I really am puzzled as to why he was under the bed in my motel room. I just don’t get it. Mark wasn’t that weird.” What a lie; he was actually weird as hell.
“I hear you, Susan. Another question: Did he use any illicit and/or prescription drugs?” He’s just going down the form to complete the interview.
“No, sir. None that I am aware of.” Thank God he didn’t ask that question about me. I would’ve choked.
“We’ve looked up Mark’s parents and found out that they are both deceased. Does he have any siblings that should be contacted?”
“No, sir. Mark was an only child. His grandparents on both sides died long ago. He has an uncle in California and an aunt in Colorado. I’ll contact them.”
“That would be great. Ok, Mrs. van Buren, I think we’re done for now. Thanks for your answers. I’m so sorry about all of this. Our receptionist will give you more information about Mark’s body. Thanks for coming down here so promptly. I’ll contact you if we need anything else.” Please don’t.
Susan walked out of the chief’s office very somberly. She got a blue envelope from the receptionist, which contained information about where Mark’s corpse was being stored and when she could see it. She wasn’t interested.
She got in the Dodge Neon and slowly drove back to the Dauphin Reign Motel.
The sights, scents and sounds were pure American-summer beach. The contrast was so great: so many tourists enjoying their vacation right next to the most distraught woman on Earth.
She went in the motel office and extended her stay by one more night. She told the desk clerk: “I’ve loved it so much here that I want to stay for the whole weekend.” What a liar I can still be was the thought that echoed in her mind.