Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders by Vincent Bugliosi, Curt Gentry Page B

and Jones.
     
     
    F or ten years Sharon Tate had sought stardom. Now she attained it, in just three days. On Tuesday, August 12, her name moved from the headlines onto theater marquees. Valley of the Dolls was rereleased nationally, opening in more than a dozen theaters in the Los Angeles area alone. It was quickly followed by The Fearless Vampire Killers and other films in which the actress had appeared, the only difference being that now she was given star billing.
     
     
    T hat same day the police told reporters that they had officially ruled out any connection between the Tate and LaBianca homicides. According to the Los Angeles Times , “Several officers indicated they were inclined to believe the second slayings were the work of a copycat.”
    From the start, the two investigations had proceeded separately, with different detectives assigned to each. They would continue this way, each team pursuing its own leads.
    They had one thing in common, though that similarity widened the distance between them. Both were operating on a basic assumption: in nearly 90 percent of all homicides the victim knows his killer. In both investigations the chief focus was now on acquaintances of the victims.
     
     
    I n checking out the Mafia rumor, the LaBianca detectives interviewed each of Leno’s known business associates. All doubted the murders were Mafia originated. One man told the detectives that if the Mafia had been responsible, he “probably would have heard about it.” It was a thorough investigation, the detectives even checking to see if the San Diego company where Leno had purchased his speedboat during their 1968 vacation was Mafia financed; it wasn’t, though numerous other businesses in the Mission Bay area were allegedly backed by “Jewish Mafia money.”
    They even questioned Leno’s mother, who told them, “He was a good boy. He never did belong to the association.”
     
     
    T he elimination of a possible Mafia link, however, did not leave the LaBianca detectives without a suspect. In questioning neighbors of the pair, they learned that the house to the east, 3267 Waverly Drive, was vacant, and had been for several months. Prior to that it had been a hippie hangout. The hippies didn’t interest them, but another former tenant, +Fred Gardner, did, very much.
    From his rap sheet and from interviews they learned that Gardner, a young attorney, “has had mental problems in the past and claims he blacks out for periods of time and is not responsible for his actions…” During an argument with his father, he “grabbed a knife from the kitchen table and chased his father, stating that he would kill him…” In September 1968, after being married only two weeks, “for no apparent reason [he] administered a vicious beating to his wife, then grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and attempted to kill her. She warded off the blows and managed to escape and call the police.” Booked for attempted murder, he was examined by a court-appointed psychiatrist, who found he had “uncontrolled aggressions of maniacal proportions.” Despite this, the charge had been reduced to simple assault. He was released on probation, and returned to the practice of law.
    Since then Gardner had been arrested a number of times, on drunk or drug charges. Following his last arrest, for forging a prescription, he was released on $900 bail, and promptly skipped. A warrant for his arrest had been issued on August 1, nine days before the LaBianca murders. He was believed to be in New York.
    When the officers questioned Gardner’s ex-wife, she told them she could recall seven separate occasions when Gardner visited the LaBiancas, each time returning with either money or whiskey. When she’d asked him about this, he’d allegedly replied, “It’s O.K. I know them and they had better give it to me or else.”
    Had Gardner, with his penchant for kitchen knives, again tried to put the bite on the LaBiancas, this time the couple saying