bailing someone out and how the process would work,” Benson remembers. “She told me everything. She knew the justice system backward and forward and explained to me what would happen. She asked what he’d been arrested for, and I said, ‘Burglary—but it’s kind of a hokey deal.’”
Benson was impressed that Renee really knew her stuff. She was clearly an intelligent woman. Benson left, without ever revealing who he was.
As it turned out, he wouldn’t talk to Renee again for months.
Working solo made him only more determined to find vital information that had scattered like a broken string of beads over the prior three decades.
Chapter Seven
Geri Hesse’s three children were separated by distance and circumstance over the thirty years since Joe Tarricone disappeared. Her older daughter, Cassie, lived a relatively stable life in Anchorage in a very nice home there. After Cassie’s brother—Nick—confessed to the murder of his wife, she visited him in prison in Colorado only once, and that was when she accompanied her mother, Geri, and sister, Renee.
Even armed with the many addresses where Renee Curtiss and Geri Hesse had lived since they left their Canyon Road rental in 1979, it was impossible for investigators to trace just what jobs they’d held. They were both intelligent and streetwise women. Renee had worked as a model and an escort a few times, and she made a good impression as she entered parties and dinners and, sometimes, grand hotels on the arms of her clients. She was also a competent office worker. Geri had a variety of jobs—as a salesclerk and in the medical field as a nursing assistant—although she probably slowed down as the years passed and she grew older.
Renee and Geri had expensive tastes; they preferred upscale clothes and jewelry, and cars that people of wealth drove. Renee, of course, hadn’t been able to keep the new Mercedes that she said was a gift from Joe Tarricone way back in 1978; the loan company picked it up from where she had hidden it at her aunt’s home. Still, she had usually managed to drive a luxury car. It’s quite possible that she wasn’t looking for love when she chose to date men. A lot of them were considerably older than she was, and on a scale of physical attractiveness, could not possibly equal hers.
When the two women returned to the Northwest from California, and after Geri died, Renee soon met a retired Exxon executive, reputed to be a billionaire, who lived in one of Seattle’s posher suburbs—Mercer Island.
Luther Wallach* was certainly attracted to her, and she soon moved into his palatial waterfront estate, living with him for quite some time. She encouraged him to throw lavish parties and to travel. She hoped to marry him but, at his age, he didn’t want to become legally entangled with her. He may even have sensed that her affection for him had dollar signs connected to it.
When the shocking news broke about Renee and her purported connections to Joe Tarricone, Gypsy Tarricone received a phone call from a KIRO reporter, Deborah Horne. The Seattle-based CBS reporter was passing on the name of a man who was trying to contact Gypsy.
“I called him,” Gypsy remembers. “His name was Richard and he lived on the other side of Puget Sound from Seattle. He told me he just couldn’t believe the things he was hearing about Renee.”
Richard explained that he had been the driver for Luther Wallach during the time she lived with her billionaire paramour.
When Richard knew Renee, she was beautiful, a glamorous hostess at their parties, and everything was “perfect.” She chose gourmet food, the finest wines. In Richard’s eyes—then—Renee was the epitome of class, seemingly born to the upper stratosphere of society in Seattle.
Richard thought that the old man might have married her in time, but the chauffeur saw that she kept pushing too hard and his boss wasn’t about to be forced to the altar. Perhaps thinking that he would change
Benson was impressed that Renee really knew her stuff. She was clearly an intelligent woman. Benson left, without ever revealing who he was.
As it turned out, he wouldn’t talk to Renee again for months.
Working solo made him only more determined to find vital information that had scattered like a broken string of beads over the prior three decades.
Chapter Seven
Geri Hesse’s three children were separated by distance and circumstance over the thirty years since Joe Tarricone disappeared. Her older daughter, Cassie, lived a relatively stable life in Anchorage in a very nice home there. After Cassie’s brother—Nick—confessed to the murder of his wife, she visited him in prison in Colorado only once, and that was when she accompanied her mother, Geri, and sister, Renee.
Even armed with the many addresses where Renee Curtiss and Geri Hesse had lived since they left their Canyon Road rental in 1979, it was impossible for investigators to trace just what jobs they’d held. They were both intelligent and streetwise women. Renee had worked as a model and an escort a few times, and she made a good impression as she entered parties and dinners and, sometimes, grand hotels on the arms of her clients. She was also a competent office worker. Geri had a variety of jobs—as a salesclerk and in the medical field as a nursing assistant—although she probably slowed down as the years passed and she grew older.
Renee and Geri had expensive tastes; they preferred upscale clothes and jewelry, and cars that people of wealth drove. Renee, of course, hadn’t been able to keep the new Mercedes that she said was a gift from Joe Tarricone way back in 1978; the loan company picked it up from where she had hidden it at her aunt’s home. Still, she had usually managed to drive a luxury car. It’s quite possible that she wasn’t looking for love when she chose to date men. A lot of them were considerably older than she was, and on a scale of physical attractiveness, could not possibly equal hers.
When the two women returned to the Northwest from California, and after Geri died, Renee soon met a retired Exxon executive, reputed to be a billionaire, who lived in one of Seattle’s posher suburbs—Mercer Island.
Luther Wallach* was certainly attracted to her, and she soon moved into his palatial waterfront estate, living with him for quite some time. She encouraged him to throw lavish parties and to travel. She hoped to marry him but, at his age, he didn’t want to become legally entangled with her. He may even have sensed that her affection for him had dollar signs connected to it.
When the shocking news broke about Renee and her purported connections to Joe Tarricone, Gypsy Tarricone received a phone call from a KIRO reporter, Deborah Horne. The Seattle-based CBS reporter was passing on the name of a man who was trying to contact Gypsy.
“I called him,” Gypsy remembers. “His name was Richard and he lived on the other side of Puget Sound from Seattle. He told me he just couldn’t believe the things he was hearing about Renee.”
Richard explained that he had been the driver for Luther Wallach during the time she lived with her billionaire paramour.
When Richard knew Renee, she was beautiful, a glamorous hostess at their parties, and everything was “perfect.” She chose gourmet food, the finest wines. In Richard’s eyes—then—Renee was the epitome of class, seemingly born to the upper stratosphere of society in Seattle.
Richard thought that the old man might have married her in time, but the chauffeur saw that she kept pushing too hard and his boss wasn’t about to be forced to the altar. Perhaps thinking that he would change
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