No Regrets

she was even less enthusiastic. And she didn’t want Paul to think he could stay at her house; she needed all her space for her guests.
    Without Ruth’s help, Paul Myers was reduced to driving a “junker” from spot to spot on Lopez, sleeping in the old truck. Sometimes, Ruth allowed him to come visit, but he knew he took a distant second place to Robert. Paul felt that Robert literally “worshipped” Ruth, did whatever she asked, and was a quiet man who caused her no trouble. He was also quite deaf. That was the kind of man Ruth preferred to have around.
    She had no patience with anyone who rejected her plans or who failed to do what she told them to. Within a week or so, Paul Myers was no longer seen around Lopez.
    Paul Myers was still among the living, however.
    It took awhile, but Ray Clever finally located Paul living in Scappoose, Oregon, a small town near the Columbia River in the far northwestern chunk of the state. A Scappoose police patrolman knew Paul and said he was living on the property of one of their reserve officers.
    Clever talked to Paul’s friend, who said he had met Paul a year earlier on the beach at Garibaldi on Tillamook Bay some sixty-five miles from Scappoose. “We became friends,” the police reserve officer said, “and I told him he could put his trailer up on my property.”
    After returning from Lopez Island in February 1982, Paul had appeared jumpy and nervous, his friend said. “He seemed to have some idea that he might be an accessory to murder. He kept saying his sister had ‘sucked him in.’”
    That certainly sounded promising for the investigation. At 6:30 A.M ., Clever approached the front door of the house where Paul was reportedly staying. He quickly spotted Myers. He could hardly miss him. He was a male version of his sister, short and round all over, just like Ruth.
    Clever showed Paul his identification, and said he wanted to ask him some questions.
    Paul Myers looked at Clever a little apprehensively and then blurted, “Uh, oh—I know who you are and why you’re here . . .”
    “Let’s talk,” Clever answered.
    Surprisingly, Paul Myers seemed relieved to talk about his sister. He related how Ruth had tricked him out of hismoney and a car. He was mad and disappointed when she refused to let him share her bed-and-breakfast venture.
    But that was the least of it. “I’m scared to death of her,” Paul admitted. “I really think she planned to kill me.”
    Paul said he owned some property down in Garibaldi and that Ruth kept insisting that he meet her and one of her women friends—Wanda Post—down there. He’d been very reluctant to do that.
    Garibaldi was a popular spot for both Oregonians and tourists, as it was situated right on the Pacific Ocean near the famous Twin Rocks, a towering natural rock formation that was a familiar image on postcards. There were only a thousand people living in Garabaldi, and there were miles of rugged coastline where Pacific Ocean waves crashed endlessly onto the rocky beach. Their roar would easily drown out a voice calling for help—or a shot ringing out.
    “She wanted me down there on a trip along the Oregon coast,” he said, “and I never thought I was going to come back alive, so I didn’t go.”
    What Paul Myers told Ray Clever that early morning in Scappoose, Oregon, would become the basis of an affidavit filed to request another search warrant for the red house on Alec Bay Road. Paul’s was, indeed, a harrowing story, but one that had to stay under wraps for some time. After Paul gave Clever a statement, Clever arranged to fly him back to Friday Harbor where he could give testimony to the court of inquiry looking into Rolf Neslund’s disappearance. Superior Court Judge Richard Pitt listened to what he had to say and read the affidavit that Ray Clever and Charlie Silverman presented, asking for a second, more massive, search of the Neslunds’ property.
    Judge Pitt granted the investigators another search warrant. To the disappointment of the press and public, it was sealed and whatever juicy details might be included would be kept secret. Sheffer explained that it “has to be confidential because it involves so many people.”
    And indeed it did.
    The first search warrant had listed a restricted number of items the detectives could look for; this one was far more sweeping.
    On March 2, 1982, Senior Deputy Joe Caputo, Ray Clever, Greg Doss, Perry Mortensen, and Criminalist Don Phillips knocked on Ruth