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As an exotic dancer at The Great Alaskan Bush Company in Anchorage, Mechele Hughes Linehan knew how to captivate men. Three of them were convinced she was engaged to them. Then one spring morning in 1996, one man, Kent Leppink, was found in the snow, shot in the head…
Days before his death, Kent had removed Mechele's name from his million-dollar life insurance policy. He wrote a letter to his family stating that, should he meet foul play, Mechele would likely be among those involved. But she wasn't charged with Kent's death. She married a doctor, moved to Olympia, Washington, and began a new life.
For years, Mechele's suburban friends never suspected a thing. She went to school meetings, hosted backyard barbeques, and was beloved by her neighbors. But authorities eventually found enough evidence to mount a case against her and an alleged accomplice. Did Mechele conspire to kill her ex-fiancé? Or is she the innocent victim as she claims? Seduced by Evil is the shocking true story about a love triangle that ended in mystery―and murder…
- Sales Rank: #1111347 in Books
- Published on: 2011-08-02
- Released on: 2011-08-02
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.85" h x .76" w x 4.29" l, .30 pounds
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 272 pages
From the Back Cover
AN IRRESISTIBLE STRIPPER
As an exotic dancer at The Great Alaskan Bush Company in Anchorage, Mechele Hughes Linehan knew how to captivate men. Three of them were convinced she was engaged to them. Then one spring morning in 1996, one man, Kent Leppink, was found in the snow, shot in the head…
A SUSPICIOUS FIANCÉ
Days before his death, Kent had removed Mechele's name from his million-dollar life insurance policy. He wrote a letter to his family stating that, should he meet foul play, Mechele would likely be among those involved. But she wasn't charged with Kent's death. She married a doctor, moved to Olympia, Washington, and began a new life.
A SORDID MYSTERY
For years, Mechele's suburban friends never suspected a thing. She went to school meetings, hosted backyward barbeques, and was beloved by her neighbors. But authorities eventually found enough evidence to mount a case against her and an alleged accomplice. Did Mechele conspire to kill her ex-fiancé? Or is she the innocent victim as she claims? This is the shocking true story about a love triangle that ended in mystery―and murder…
Includes 8 pages of dramatic photos
About the Author
MICHAEL FLEEMAN is an associate bureau chief for People magazine in Los Angeles and a former reporter for The Associated Press. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
The body lay undisturbed, the ground only now starting to thaw in the morning sunshine. Temperatures had dipped below freezing overnight and there were still patches of dirty snow in the shaded spots beneath the spruce and birch. The grizzlies and wolves had somehow not sniffed out the body, the bugs had not gotten to it yet. It was a perfectly preserved corpse, left literally on ice.
A winding road brought Michael Gephardt to the death scene. A foreman for the Chugach Electric Association, Gephardt and his partner Morris Morgan began their day forty miles away, at the substation in Cooper Landing, a small town at the confluence of the Russian and Kenai rivers. In the summer, the annual runs of sockeye and coho salmon bring hordes of weekend anglers, backing up traffic for miles; but on this Thursday morning in early May, Gephardt had the highway to himself, mindful only of the black ice that could send his truck skidding.
Gephardt and Morgan drove northeast along the Sterling Highway, stopping periodically to read electric meters. They turned left at a spur road, crossed a bridge and headed down a winding road that dead-ended at the settlement of Hope, Alaska. A former mining town that lays claim to two gold rushes, one before and another after the Klondike strike of the late 1890s, Hope spent the better part of the last century fading away into a dim memory, the only remnants of its boom years a few weathered buildings, a collection of rusted mining equipment and about two hundred hearty souls, most of them retirees, some of them still prospecting. Although a place of history and wild beauty, located only ninety miles from Anchorage on the sportsman’s paradise that is the Kenai Peninsula, Hope gets little love from the guidebooks. “It’s at the end of a 16-mile spur road,” observes Fodor’s, “so it’s not on the way to anywhere—you really have to go there on purpose.”
It was routine electrical service work that took Gephardt and Morgan to the Hope Spur Road, known to some as “The Road to Nowhere.” At least one other crew from the Chugach Electric Association had been here earlier to repair the lines damaged in the winter storms. With each turn, the road descended, the men’s truck passing the mile markers on the shoulder and the occasional cabin.
By mile marker 10, the trees cleared and a turnout emerged, offering a spectacular view of the Turnagain Arm, the shallow expanse of water that churns and roars from some of the world’s biggest tidal surges, or bores. At low tide the Turnagain Arm is a plain of muddy silt, acres of deadly quicksand, before the tide rolls in with a vengeance, a two- to six-foot wall of water funneled between the high, rocky walls on either side. During new or full moons, when the bore tides are at their most powerful, the waves roar like locomotives. It was about this same time of year, in May of 1778, that British explorer Captain James Cook pushed his leaky vessels the Resolution and Discovery toward where Hope now is located in his quest for the elusive Northwest Passage, only to hit the channel’s fierce winds and tides. Two shore boats journeyed farther, but rather than finding a waterway to the Old World, the explorers encountered only the mouth of a river. They called the river Turnagain and went back again.
From Hope, the city of Anchorage sits just fifteen miles across the Turnagain Arm, but no ferry service exists, so Alaska’s largest city is accessible only by a ninety-minute drive all the way around the arm. Isolated and part of a history marked by disappointment, the old mining town has a name that suggests irony but is really a quirk. Founders called it Hope, not for joy and inspiration, but after the name of one of the early gold miners.
Just past mile marker 13, about three miles before the end of the road, Gephardt veered left onto a gravel and dirt access road that dipped then rose steeply into a hillside of Sitka spruce. After pulling the truck to a stop, Gephardt got out, his rubber boots crunching into the half-frozen dirt. His partner stayed behind. One hundred yards up the access road, behind a chain-link fence, stood an old microwave tower built by the RCA Corporation when it controlled Alaska’s telecommunications in the 1970s but now the property of AT&T Alascom. The Chugach Electric Association services the two meters on a building next to the tower. Gephardt’s job was to read the meter.
By now it was about 10:15 a.m. and sunny on May 2, 1996, the temperature having risen to about forty degrees, about two degrees warmer than the setting on refrigerators, thawing the ground and turning it to mud. Gephardt trudged up the hill toward the tower and its meter, walking to the side of the road in the grass so he wouldn’t track mud back to his truck. The road had deep ruts left by the heavy equipment from the crew recently repairing the wooden poles and crossbars of the overhead high-voltage lines damaged by the winter storms.
About two hundred yards up the road Gephardt saw something red and bulky on the ground. He thought at first it could have been equipment that had fallen off one of the repair trucks. He took several steps closer and saw that it was a person dressed in a red jacket lying on the ground.
“Hey, is something wrong?” Gephardt yelled.
The person didn’t move. Gephardt walked closer, still staying to the side of the trail. Now Gephardt saw that it was a bearded man dressed in a red jacket, blue jeans, and white tennis shoes. The man lay on his back, his head turned to the left, his arms outstretched and his right ankle positioned over his left awkwardly.
In his years driving the treacherous Sterling and Seward highways of the Kenai Peninsula, Gephardt had frequently come upon traffic accidents. He would report them over his cell phone or truck radio, then direct traffic until Alaska state troopers arrived. He had seen people killed in bad ways, and he knew by this man’s gray pallor and gaping mouth that he was dead.
“Don’t come up!” he yelled to his partner. “We have a body.”
Gephardt walked back to his truck, careful to retrace his steps so that he didn’t interfere with the scene.
In the warmth of his cab, he called 911 on his cell phone.
* * *
In May of 1996, state trooper investigator Ron Belden was two years away from retirement. His twenty-one-year law enforcement career had all been in Alaska: patrol in the Anchorage suburb of Palmer, then various jobs in the remote hamlets of St. Mary’s and Aniak and the commercial fishing village of Dillingham near Bristol Bay before transferring to his current job doing investigations out of the station in the Kenai Peninsula town of Soldotna, known for its salmon fishing and clam digging. It was a typical career for a veteran Alaska state trooper, known as the toughest of the tough. Their agency employs just three hundred officers to enforce laws and investigate crimes in a land mass twice the size of Texas.
Ron Belden had just arrived at work around eleven a.m. when a sergeant informed him that two troopers had responded to a 911 call about a body being discovered in Hope, some ninety miles away and still part of the Soldotna station’s turf. Belden’s orders were to drive to the scene and determine the cause of death.
When he arrived in Hope at 12:46 p.m., two troopers met him at the base of the side road. One of the troopers had gotten close enough to see that the dead man had not been there long, the clothing was untainted by the elements, and the flesh was untouched by insects, wolves, or bears. The trooper had spotted what appeared to be a wound on the side of the face and, nearby, brass shell casings, shiny, as if recently ejected.
Walking up the hill, Belden could see that the man was bearded and bald and appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He had a long, lanky frame and lay on his back in the red coat and blue jeans. His fingers had formed fists, which meant that rigor mortis had just begun, another sign he had not been here long. Belden noted that the man wore a gold necklace and wristwatch, maybe valuable, maybe not, but certainly not taken. On the right side of the man’s whiskered jaw was an apparent bullet wound. Looking over the rest of the body, Belden also noticed what appeared to be a second bullet hole through the man’s shirt near the second button up from the belt. Two shots, to the face and belly: an obvious homicide.
A supervisor was en route. Soon a coroner’s van would arrive. The afternoon sun had brought temperatures close to 50 degrees Fahrenheit and the ground was mush.
* * *
Sergeant Steven C. DeHart had been with the Division of Alaska State Troopers nearly as long as Ron Belden had, his nineteen years on the force putting him three years shy of retirement. His career sent him all over Alaska: academy training in Sitka, two and a half years in the inland city of Fairbanks, and eight years in tiny Talkeetna, before being transferred to the major crimes unit of the troopers’ criminal investigative bureau in Anchorage. A promotion four years later made him a supervising sergeant running investigations out of the Soldotna station, working with Ron Belden as one of his investigators.
When DeHart arrived at the station at about noon, the dispatcher told him about the body in Hope and that investigator Belden was on his way. By now one of the troopers there had noticed the gunshot wound to the victim’s face and the shell casings, and DeHart didn’t wait for Belden’s homicide conclusion. DeHart got in the station’s crime scene van and set out for Hope.
He arrived at two p.m. Belden had been at work for more than an hour, assisted by troopers arriving from stations all over the region, searching the area for evidence, photographing the scene. The investigators huddled, then went up to the body. By no...
Most helpful customer reviews
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Four Stars
By Maria
Good crime read. Well written.editing pretty good.
19 of 20 people found the following review helpful.
Competent Author, Interesting Case
By RhodeIsland 1969
There are three main reasons why I consider this to be better than the average true crime book. First, the author writes skillfully--there are no awkward passages or unnecessary padding. Second, there is a good balance between background, details of the case, and description of the trial. (Too often true crime writers linger over the gruesome aspects of the case, such as the crime scene and autopsy reports, and divulge irrelevant information about the principle characters, and either skip over the trial itself or offer pages and pages of redundant testimony). And third, the author takes a neutral attitude toward law enforcement--the investigators' mistakes aren't glossed over, but at the same time the author doesn't indulge in hagiographic treatment of the police.
This is a fairly straighforward, chronological account of an interesting case set in Alaska and the two trials that resulted.
12 of 13 people found the following review helpful.
Compelling and interesting book
By J. M. Flippin
I saw this murder on 48 Hours Mystery and decided to read this account of it. Good read, very well written and a compelling story line. A twist at the end is always a plus. Did she do it? Me thinks yep. True crime readers will enjoy this one
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