A Deadly Secret: The Story of Robert Durst (7 page)

Gibbons handled the interview with Ragus himself, one of the many reasons he was so well liked by his men. Interviews and other legwork were usually left to the rank and file. But Gibbons was different. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. Instead of telling Ragus to call back later, he grabbed a notebook and pencil and began asking questions.

Ragus said she was with the firm of Milbank, Tweed, Hadley and McCloy, a major New York law firm, and had been Kathie’s attorney since June 1981. Kathie was in the midst of a protracted negotiation on a divorce settlement, a negotiation that was heavily one-sided.

“She wanted what she thought to be a reasonable settlement given they were married for eight years,” said Ragus.

“How much?”

“Around four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

That was a drop in the bucket for a guy like Bobby Durst, thought Gibbons. Why would he hold out?

Ragus couldn’t answer that question. She said that in recent months Kathie had feared for her life, and relayed to Ragus harrowing stories of beatings and mental abuse.

“She thought he would kill her,” said Ragus.

“Can you tell me about the documents her brother sent you?”

“Lieutenant, I wish I could, but that’s attorney/client privilege. I can tell you this, Lieutenant. Kathie was scared. She was very scared of her husband. And for good reason. Do you know about the dogs?”

“What dogs?”

“Kathie said her husband has a dog, Igor. It’s a husky, or something like that. Igor is the fifth or sixth dog he’s had. The others died. Kathie said they all died from mysterious deaths. One choked, another accidentally drowned, and so on.”

“Did she say he killed them?”

“She didn’t know. But the way she told the story, if I was a dog, I wouldn’t want Bobby Durst as my master.”

Of the approximately two hundred assistant district attorneys working in the office of Robert Morganthau, the district attorney for New York County, Mike Struk trusted but one, Roger Hayes.

An affable fellow, Hayes had developed a sterling reputation as an effective prosecutor, having joined the DA’s office in 1971, three years after graduating from the New York University School of Law.

At thirty-eight, Hayes had already served as the chief of the frauds bureau and chief of legal systems analysis. He was now chief of the trial division. When Struk called him several days earlier, the first words out of Hayes’s mouth were, “I see you’re up to your ears in that Durst shit.”

Struk laughed, then asked Hayes for a meeting.

“This
is
about Durst?” said Hayes.

“Yes, but we’ll talk about it in your office,” said Struk.

Struk’s call to Hayes followed a disturbing visit from Gilberte Najamy, whom Struk immediately determined to be one of the least attractive women he’d ever met.

Gilberte was thin, with long, dark, stringy hair, wore black combat boots, and had a very direct, confrontational manner. Struk took her for an adult version of a tomboy.

Gilberte had called earlier, saying she had some important information but could only deliver it in person. When she arrived at the Twentieth Precinct later that morning, she sat down next to Struk’s desk and handed him two pieces of paper.

“Where did you get these?”

“On Sunday. I broke into the house.”

“You did what?” said Struk, sitting back in his chair. He remembered the front-page story the day before in the
New York Post
about a break-in at the Durst’s South Salem house, the paper surmising it had something to do with Kathie’s disappearance. Bobby wouldn’t talk to the
Post
, but the paper reported that his younger brother Doug subsequently changed the locks on the house.

“What possessed you to pull a stunt like that?”

“Something’s wrong,” said Gilberte. “Bobby’s been hitting Kathie and threatening her. I really feel something happened, and we just can’t sit by. We have to do something.”

“We’re not sitting by. This is an active investigation, and you’re not a police officer, so I would suggest that you stay on the sidelines and let us do our work. I don’t think it’s helpful if you’re breaking into people’s homes. That sounds pretty extreme.”

Gilberte wasn’t listening to Struk’s lecture. He wasn’t telling her what she wanted to hear. She thought there would, at the least, be a congratulatory comment like “good job.” But Struk was stern in his warning to stay away from the South Salem home.

“What else have you done that I should know about?”

“Well, I took the same train Kathie took that Sunday night. The nine-seventeen out of Katonah. I boarded it after I broke into the house. There were only two cars and I had pictures of Kathie. But no one recognized her, not the conductor or anyone else on that train. And most of the people who take that train are regular commuters,” said Gilberte.

Struk looked at the two papers. One was a receipt from a shoe store. Bobby had used his credit card to buy a pair of $300 boots on Wednesday, February 3.

The other paper had “itinerary” written on the top.

The handwriting was scribbled, but Struk could make out each word.

“Both pieces of paper were in the garbage,” said Gilberte.

“Throwing out her mail?” said Struk.

“Yeah, some bills and junk stuff. They were never opened. And the house, it was really clean. I’d never seen it so clean,” said Gilberte.

“What’s that tell you?”

“I don’t know. But something isn’t right here. That itinerary. That’s Bobby’s handwriting. Why would he write down where he was all week?”

“That’s a good question. But a question for me to find answers to.”

Before leaving, Gilberte asked Struk if he heard the Peter Schwartz story.

Struk said yes, and that he checked Bobby’s records for any prior arrests, but there were none.

“That’s because the charges were dismissed. Peter had sued Bobby and they settled. Kathie went nuts. She called Peter the night she disappeared, when she was at my house before. She didn’t know it was over. She couldn’t believe it. All she kept saying was the Dursts always win.”

Struk thanked Gilberte for bringing the papers to his attention and reminded her to stay away from the South Salem home. As Gilberte left the precinct, she was convinced that Struk was a dimwit.

Struk studied the itinerary, then returned to a report from the task-force detectives. They had interviewed the couple who lived in the adjoining penthouse on Riverside Drive, Kevin and Ann Doyle, and they had a Kathie Durst story that was, at the least, disturbing.

The Doyles reported that the previous November they had been lying in bed watching television when they heard a pounding sound. It was Kathie Durst, and she was banging on their window, in her pajamas, sobbing uncontrollably and screaming for help. They let her in and sat her down. She explained that she had jumped out of a window in her apartment, climbed over a wall that divided their patios, walked along a balcony, and sought refuge. She and Bobby had been arguing about a woman he was seeing, Prudence Farrow, and he had hit her twice, his hand curled into a fist. Kathie remained with Ann and Kevin until midnight, when Kevin went next door to speak with Bobby, who acknowledged that he and Kathie had argued, but said he never hit her.

Struk could only shake his head when he read that Kathie had gone back to Bobby after assuring the neighbors that she’d be fine.

The Doyles stood in the hallway after Bobby closed the door, expecting to hear a loud outburst.

There was none.

After talking with Gilberte Najamy, Struk called the New York State Police and spoke with Investigator Stan Roman, who agreed to meet him at the home of Bill and Ruth Mayer, who lived in South Salem next door to the Dursts’ home.

The Mayers had known Bobby and Kathie since 1976, when the Dursts bought the cottage. The new neighbors became friendly and socialized on occasion, though the Mayers had no idea they were socializing with the heir to one of New York’s great real estate empires.

Bobby insisted on maintaining a low-key lifestyle, driving older cars, wearing old clothes. And when Bobby and Kathie entertained, they served hot dogs and cheese.

During the summers the Mayers would see Bobby in his canoe, paddling on Lake Truesdale. He was nice enough to make small talk, though their conversations usually didn’t last long.

Kathie was far more personable. Always cheerful, she would stop over for long conversations. The Mayers had a young daughter, just a toddler, who adored Kathie, who’d take time out to play with the girl.

Kathie had wanted children of her own, but confided to Ruth that Bobby made it clear he didn’t want any. She told Ruth about her pregnancy in 1976 and how Bobby demanded she have an abortion.

Within a year the Mayers learned of Bobby’s wealth, and as summers came and went, they watched their neighbors’ marriage disintegrate. They heard through Kathie that Bobby was having an affair with Prudence Farrow, and Kathie confided to Ruth that she, too, had an affair going, with a medical student at Einstein. Kathie was also indulging in drugs and drinking and socializing with her cleaning lady, Janet Finke. Finke was younger than Kathie, blond, and just as pretty. One summer afternoon, during a chat while sitting on the grass behind the Dursts’ home, Kathie told Ruth that she and Janet had gone to a party hosted by Hugh Hefner. It was at the Playboy Mansion in Los Angeles.

“She said it was wild. I asked her what did that mean, lots of sex and drugs? She would only smile and say it was absolutely wild,” said Ruth.

The last time Ruth saw Kathie was a week before she disappeared. She had come up to South Salem for the weekend, alone. Ruth was hosting a small afternoon party and invited Kathie to come over. As soon as she arrived, she began drinking full glasses of wine, chugging them down like soda pop.

“She was just excessive on the wine and coke. She looked lost and distraught,” said Ruth.

Early that evening Ruth said she and Bill, along with another couple, the Picards, decided to have dinner at a local restaurant.

“Kathie asked if she could join us. You could see she was scared to be alone. She came along and all she did was drink and talk, talk all night long about Bobby. She drank two bottles of champagne. Then she said she did something she shouldn’t have done,” said Ruth.

“What was that?” said Struk.

“She said she told Bob she was going to reveal family secrets if she didn’t get more money. Stuff about Bob signing their tax returns and her stock transfers. She wanted a settlement. But the second she told us, she knew she crossed the line. You could see it. She was terrified.”

“And she was too drunk to drive home,” said Bill. “When she ordered the champagne she told us not to worry about it, that she’d pay for it. But when the check came she just put on her coat and walked out of the restaurant. I wouldn’t let her drive, so I took her car and Ruth followed.”

“When was the last time you saw Bobby?” said Struk.

Bill and Ruth looked at each other.

“He came by Thursday afternoon, the day before he reported Kathie missing. He stopped by to ask if we had seen Kathie,” said Bill. “He said she was missing and he didn’t know where she was.”

“I heard that and said, ‘Oh, my God.’ I knew something had happened,” said Ruth.

“What do you think happened?” said Struk.

“Oh, God. The way Kathie was talking, she was terrified. And Bobby has a horrible temper. I don’t want to even think he could have done something to her,” said Ruth.

Roman, the investigator with the state police, joined the meeting after taking a walk around the outside of the Durst home. He sat down next to Struk and said he hadn’t seen anything unusual, except for the broken window on the back door.

Struk knew this was the work of Gilberte Najamy, so he didn’t pay much attention.

Ruth continued to talk, telling Struk she remembered seeing a strange blue light coming from the room downstairs, near where the door was broken.

“It was a couple of days before Bobby reported Kathie had disappeared, which was—what? A Friday? I must have seen the light that Tuesday, it was in the middle of the night. I’d never seen it before, and I haven’t seen it since,” said Ruth. “Are you going to look in the house?”

“It’s my understanding two state troopers were inside the house and didn’t see anything unusual. Besides, she made it into Manhattan,” said Struk, who showed the Mayers the composite of the mystery man who had visited Kathie that Sunday night.

The Mayers didn’t recognize him.

Struk had shown the composite to all of Kathie’s friends and family, but no one could identify the face. They couldn’t even suggest someone who looked familiar.

The mystery man was just that, a mystery, as were the whereabouts of Kathie Durst.

—

When Struk arrived at Hayes’s office downtown on Tuesday, February 16, accompanied by two detectives from the Detective Bureau of Manhattan and a third detective from the Manhattan Task Force, he and Hayes exchanged warm handshakes. After Struk settled into his chair, he got right to the point.

“Roger, I want to drop Bobby Durst’s phone lines. I think something’s screwy here. I need paper,” said Struk.

Struk asked Hayes to subpoena Bobby’s telephone records at his two residences at 37 Riverside Drive and 12 East Eighty-sixth Street. He also wanted the records from Bobby’s office at the Durst Organization’s headquarters at 1133 Avenue of the Americas. In addition, Struk wanted the records from Jacobi Hospital, where Kathie was admitted in January.

“The guy came to us to report his wife missing, then says he thinks she’s having an affair with some drug dealer. I’m now thinking it’s all bullshit. Their marriage was on the rocks, she wants a settlement, he’s not giving in. He’s having an affair with another woman and he’s apparently beating the shit out of his wife, who’s all coked up thinking he’s going to kill her. I need paper.”

“You know she could just be paranoid from all the cocaine. How much was she doing?”

“A couple of grams a week, maybe more.”

“Jesus,” said Hayes, who agreed there was probable cause and said he’d sign off.

The two men shook hands and promised to get together for a beer in the near future.

Struk was happy. He had his paper.

He headed uptown to the Riverside Drive penthouse. Bobby agreed to allow the Crime Scene Unit to examine the apartment. Unlike a walk-through, like the one Struk had taken before, this would be a complete search. The CSU investigators brought luminol, a chemical used to find trace elements of blood, spraying it in a sweeping motion in various spots. If blood was present, it would glow.

Bobby was there, and handed Struk what he said was a ransom note.