A Child Shall Lead Them

By Stephen L. Sprinkel

Hired to investigate a cheating husband. Reno private investigator gets more than he bargains for. The sixty-year-old murder of a judge's daughter, generations of family abuse, power, and greed, as well as haunting apparitions of children, all come to a surprising climax that reveals the darkest and best qualities of humanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Vine Press
• Release date: May 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781958128831

Stephen L. Sprinkel

Stephen Sprinkel has worked as a psychotherapist and minister in Northern Nevada for over thirty years. He has also been a community college instructor and contributing writer to a nationally syndicated self help column. He currently lives in Reno, where he maintains a private therapy practice.

Book preview

Copyright © 2022 by Stephen L. Sprinkel.

ISBN 978-1-958128-81-7 (softcover)

ISBN 978-1-958128-82-4 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-958128-83-1 (ebook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022909923

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America.

Book Vine Press

2516 Highland Dr.

Palatine, IL 60067

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

Little Ruthie never saw the menacing figure in the bushes. On her seventh birthday she she was too busy being a child, closing her eyes and counting to sixty so her older sister Betty could hide. By the count of thirty Betty had already run nearly fifty yards downstream from the Verdi bridge and hid behind some brush and a large tree stump. The rushing water of the Truckee made it impossible to hear her sister counting or perhaps screaming. Betty laughed. She and Ruthie had played hide and seek along the river many times. On that summer day in 1961 it would be their last.

After nearly a half hour she grew tired of waiting for Ruthie to find her and headed back to the summer house of her father, Judge William Landon. By night fall William and Gertrude Landon, as well as an army of local law enforcement, divers and friends, had failed to find Ruthie. The next day her sexually abused body was found about a mile downstream, pinned against a large boulder by the river’s current, half way across from the River’s Edge Mobile Home Park. Four days later Betty would hang herself in the bathroom, believing she was somehow responsible for her sister’s death. One week later a twenty-three year old Hispanic gardener named Jesus Gonzalez, who claimed he was simply fishing along the Truckee that day, was arrested for the murder. Within three months he was tried and convicted of the crime. He would spend twelve years on death row proclaiming his innocence until the day he was executed in Nevada’s gas chamber on May 10th, 1973.

It would be over six decades before the facts of who actually murdered Ruthie Landon were revealed. The circumstance surrounding the revelation become as much a topic of discussion by some of the old locals as the crime itself. Questions remained for me, however, that would strike at the very core of understanding the human spirit and our capacity to overcome loss, suffering, and evil itself. Are we destined in life’s journey to ultimately become more cynical and jaded as we age because losses accumulate and disappointments erode the last vestiges of hope and optimism? Do we simply become blinded by our own negativity and skepticism? Are the alleged sins of our fathers really an inescapable yoke and burden which define us and, because of our blindness, from which we decide there is no liberation?

Perhaps we can learn from the children. Perhaps it really is possible they see in a way we have forgotten. And perhaps, if we somehow learn again to see with that childlike spirit, we can find answers, direction, and clarity for the rest of life’s journey. Was it that spirit that finally led to solving a heinous crime over six decades earlier? Who knows? Such questions seem almost ethereal when compared to how it all began: Another mundane investigation into an alleged cheating husband.

CHAPTER TWO

I ’ll pay whatever it takes. Just confirm if Tony’s having an affair and who it’s with.

Cindy Donatello was known for getting her way and spending lavishly. Her petite and youthful looking body of forty years, sculptured through hours of working out in health clubs and visits to her cosmeticians, belied both her age and power. Her marriage into one of the wealthiest families in Nevada provided the resources for her spending.

And why do you think he’s having an affair? I asked.

We’ve been married for almost twenty years. I know my husband.

I understand. But what is it about Tony that makes you suspicious?

So I guess we’ve generally had an O.K. marriage. Not the greatest but O.K. Unfortunately, there’s never been a lot of intimacy unless I initiate it. Quite honestly, we haven’t been intimate for years. But you see, Mr. Buffalo, the last six or seven months have been much different. Worse. He’s more distant. Colder. And there are a lot of nights he doesn’t come home.

And you’ve asked him about it?

Of course. But I’m tired of asking. He always says he’s working long hours and falls asleep in his office. I don’t believe him. All this really started when he bought that damn Landon House. I knew he shouldn’t have bought it. His father even told him the same thing. He already had plenty of properties and investments. He didn’t need another building, especially one with a restaurant. But he wouldn’t listen to me or anyone else. I think he’s having an affair with one of the waitresses.

Is there a particular waitress you suspect?

I’m sure you’ve gone there for lunch, dinner or drinks, she responded. Well, yes I have, but it’s been a while.

Then you know the kind of women the manager hires. They’re all young, single little whores, if you ask me. Any one of them would love to have Tony’s money.

All right. I’ll do the investigation. You’ll need to give me some time to follow him.

How much time?

I’m not sure. Two or three weeks, at the least. Maybe a month. But I’ll make it a priority case. I promise.

I’d like some answers sooner rather than later. But you’ve earned a good reputation, so I can be patient. At two hundred an hour, Mr. Buffalo, you may be selling yourself short.

I assumed that was a compliment.

"As I said, I’ll devote most of my energy to this case, Ms. Donatello. I promise.

Please remember, though, I do have other investigations."

I understand.

If I may, Mrs. Donatello, permit me…

You can call me Cindy.

If I may, Cindy, permit me to ask, if you don’t mind, what you plan to do if you find out Tony’s actually having an affair.

I don’t mind at all. If it turns out I can prove he’s been seeing another woman, he’ll pay a heavy price. I and my attorney will see to it that I get everything I deserve. I’m quite confident of that.

I see. And who’s your attorney?

Carl Tatum. Do you know him?

Oh yes. Very familiar with the man. You can sign the necessary paperwork with Tina as you leave.

It had been over two years since the Velez case. Much had changed in my life. With the amount of money I received from Candy Velez, as well as the increased business due to my new notoriety in town, I’d made the decision to finally move my office to a more professional setting. It was hard to leave the corner office of the Pincolini Building on Lake Street, but the move proved to be most timely. Three months after I opened my office on Court Street a fire broke out in the Pincolini and destroyed most of the historic building. It was apparently started by a homeless man who had taken up residence in one of the abandoned offices. The smoke stained remnants were beyond repair and the building was completely demolished two months later. A significant part of Reno’s history was gone. So was my old office. It was like losing a family member.

The new office was actually not so new. It was a small brick one bedroom house built in the 1920’s that had been leased for years by a string of different attorneys. Large trees that reflected the age of the old southwest neighborhood lined the streets. The small brick and stucco homes, built after the turn of the twentieth century, became coveted offices of professionals and young entrepreneurs opening businesses in the midtown district east and south of the neighborhood. Tina loved it because it was close to the arts district. I loved it because it was a short three blocks down to the river. The front living room with fireplace served as Tina’s reception area. The bedroom off to the side, which had been converted by previous tenants to an office, became my office. A small kitchen and bathroom in the back were additional luxuries we hadn’t enjoyed on Lake Street.

A little arrogant, wouldn’t you say? Tina asked after Cindy Donatello strutted out of the office toward her Mercedes.

Just a little, I said with a half smile. I gather you won’t be inviting her out for one of your herbal tea time lunches.

"Actually, I have had lunch with her."

Really?

Well, in a way. She’s been to several luncheons at the art museum when we’ve had new exhibits. Her husband came with her once. They’re major foundation contributors and she makes a point of letting everyone know.

Hmm, a humble woman for sure, I responded. Right. Let me guess why she came here.

That shouldn’t be too hard. You know why most women hire me.

"Well, if Anthony Donatello is having an affair, I wouldn’t blame him!"

"Wow, my dear Tina, you really don’t like the woman! You ladies can be so catty! But if he is having an affair, every gossip in town will have a feast on the Donatello name. Ah, the life of being upper crust Reno. Something I’ll never have to worry about."

"Right Buff. So do you like the new palm?

The front reception area looked more like a garden shop. Plants were everywhere.

I hadn’t noticed the new parlor palm she had placed in the corner near my door.

It’s beautiful. It’ll be in good company with all the other plants.

Tina smiled. I knew she enjoyed the creative freedom I gave her in decorating our new surroundings. She was truly a creative, gifted young woman. I was lucky to have her as a loyal employee and receptionist.

Now, as for the Donatellos, redirecting the conversation back to the business at had, "they go back three or four generations in