Newport Man’s Life, Death Both a Puzzle

It was just after sunset in this seaside village when the flamboyant life of Claude L. Falkenstien Jr. came to an abrupt end.

Shot once through the heart with a .38-caliber bullet, the free-spending Newport Beach advertising executive died on the floor of the vacation home where he spent nearly every weekend.

But more than seven months after Falkenstien’s death, Mexican police are no closer to determining what happened than they were on the night of Nov. 6, when frantic neighbors summoned them from the nearest station 20 miles north in Rosarito.

Police were told that Falkenstien had been shot by robbers who broke into the secluded bungalow, confronting the businessman and his frightened girlfriend. The girlfriend’s account was supported in part by two neighbors who heard the shots and came running to help. Almost from the beginning, however, investigators had grave doubts.

‘Was No Robbery’

“There was no robbery,” Genaro Valle Lopez, chief of the Mexican State Judicial Police in Rosarito, now says bluntly.

But despite a detailed investigation, Valle and his detectives have uncovered little else upon which to develop a case. The girlfriend and the neighbors dropped out of sight and none could be reached for comment on this story.

So the death of Falkenstien, police say, remains Rosarito’s most notorious unsolved murder; a mystery whose cast includes a Florida man wanted for allegedly stealing $20,000 worth of exotic birds, and the dead man’s 38-year-old girlfriend, whose last known address was in Irvine.

Mexican authorities say their investigation has been made difficult by the fact that they cannot force Americans to return for questioning, and in this case they can charge no one until they again talk to witnesses.

Falkenstien, 58, had been a member of the exclusive Balboa Bay Club, and his fun-loving charm easily won friends. He was always dapper, with a salt-and-pepper beard and fashionable clothes, and often wore heavy gold jewelry.

He drove a black Cadillac with vanity license plates reading FALKIE, and never hesitated to pick up the tab for lunch, friends recall.

Yet some people sensed another side to Falkenstien. Despite his constant talk of big business deals, he seemed reluctant to disclose any details. “He always was kind of secretive, even when he was young,” recalled Georgia Seuferling, Falkenstien’s 78-year-old mother, who lives in North Kansas City, Mo.

That secretiveness was apparent in Falkenstien’s relationship with Patricia Engels. At 38, Engels was office manager for his direct-mail advertising business, Mass Media Marketing. Falkenstien told the staff that Engels--20 years his junior--was his daughter, said Holly Dufau, the company’s vice president. In fact, court records show that he had been divorced three times and had no children.

By 1987, Engels, whose marriage had ended in divorce, was living with Falkenstien, Seuferling said. The couple began shopping for a vacation home in Baja California last summer, a search that led them to meet Gary and Patricia Lockwood.

In July, Falkenstien ended up leasing a home managed by the Lockwoods, and by fall the couples had become close friends.

By November, Falkenstien was thinking about investing in other vacation homes in the area. So on Nov. 6, a Sunday, the couples agreed to spend the afternoon scouting properties along the scenic Baja coast.

For Falkenstien and Engels, the day began pleasantly. A neighbor spotted the slender, attractive blonde and her companion returning arm in arm from a morning walk on the beach. The couple met the Lockwoods for lunch at La Fachada, a nearby restaurant that offers a stunning ocean view. And a restaurant photographer captured a smiling Falkenstien and Engels cuddled together on a wicker chair.

As the couples drove the coast, the Lockwoods noticed that something seemed to be troubling Falkenstien.

The scene was described in a pair of unusual statements handwritten by the Lockwoods and sent to a friend after the shooting. Copies of the statements were obtained by The Times, and many of the details were confirmed in interviews with the police and Falkenstien’s neighbors.

“I asked him what was wrong,” Gary Lockwood wrote in his 44-page statement. “He replied that he had a rough week at work and that his pancreas was acting up.”

They returned to Falkenstien’s house about 5 p.m., and the Lockwoods stayed for only about 15 minutes.

Then, as Falkenstien walked the couple to the door, he suddenly grabbed Lockwood’s shoulder. “Gary, get us out of here, we aren’t safe,” Falkenstien said, according to the statements. “Find us two houses . . . this week to move into. Don’t worry about money for rent. I will take care of it. Please, get us out of here.”

Neighbors said a string of armed robberies in recent months had terrified many residents of Playa La Mision, a tiny retirement village populated mostly by Americans. Falkenstien’s house had been among those burglarized, just two weeks before. Falkenstien had bars placed on the windows and Lockwood wired the house with an elaborate alarm system.

Purchased Walkie-Talkies

Other neighbors had purchased walkie-talkies to communicate, since the closest telephone is about nine miles away. In addition to a walkie-talkie, Falkenstien bought citizens band radios for his house and the Lockwoods’ place, about a three-minute drive away.

The Lockwoods pondered Falkenstien’s mood as they drove home, according to the statement. But once inside their house, the couple flipped on the television while Gary ate dinner and Patricia, in pajamas, clipped coupons.

Suddenly, from the darkness came two explosions that sounded like firecrackers, followed by a pause of several seconds, then two or three more pops. Engels’ frantic voice cried through the CB radio: “Gary, they shot Falk! They shot him! They shot him!”

Engels tripped the burglar alarm, picked up a walkie-talkie and continued calling for help. Neighbors converged on the house and found it in disarray--chairs toppled over, a dresser moved, a shattered wine glass in front of the fireplace, and Falkenstien dead on the floor of his bedroom.

Somebody left to call the police. Engels seemed hysterical, neighbors said, laughing, crying and dashing a bowl of sour cream to the floor. Meanwhile, about 20 nervous neighbors milled around inside the house, peering at Falkenstien’s bloody body.

It took neighbors nearly an hour to find a telephone to contact police. When officers arrived, they inspected the house and took Engels, the Lockwoods and another neighbor to Rosarito for questioning.

This is the story Engels told investigators, according to Police Chief Valle: She was fixing dinner in the kitchen while Falkenstien was seated at the bar when two masked gunmen burst in, demanding Falkenstien’s wallet and jewelry. Engels said she dropped to the floor and slowly crawled to a hidden security system switch while Falkenstien went into the bedroom to retrieve his briefcase.

Robbers Panicked

When Engels triggered the alarm, the robbers panicked. The gunmen ran into the bedroom, shot Falkenstien and fled on foot. Engels said the robbers stole Falkenstien’s wallet--containing several hundred dollars in cash--along with his briefcase, his jewelry and her purse.

She said she then reached for a handgun that Falkenstien kept hidden under a bedroom dresser. To scare off the robbers as well as alert neighbors, she fired one shot through the kitchen screen door, then stepped outside and fired several more into the air.

But neither the murder weapon nor the second gun was found at the scene. And police began to doubt the account.

Over the next few days, investigators continued to question Engels and the Lockwoods, talking to them individually and taking them back to the scene of the shooting. Officers drove Engels to Tijuana, about 40 minutes north, and performed standard paraffin tests on her hands, which confirmed the presence of gunpowder. A police artist also drew sketches of the robbers, based on her description.

At one point, Mexican police arrested four men suspected of being the robbers, but released them after they produced alibis.

Then, after her first day in custody, Patricia Lockwood told detectives that she had been holding something back. Minutes after the shooting, in a misguided effort to protect Engels, she had taken the second gun and hidden it under a sofa pillow in her house. Officers went to the house and found the weapon exactly where Lockwood said it would be.

By now, time was running out for the investigators, who by law are not allowed to detain Americans for more than 72 hours without filing criminal charges.

Despite their suspicions, the investigators had to release the three, who promised to remain available for further questioning.

The three friends then left the police station in Rosarito with Engels’ parents, who had driven down from Los Angeles. They took showers at a local hotel, then immediately headed for the United States, leaving all their possessions behind. They reached the Tijuana border at daybreak.

“All of us were crying,” Lockwood wrote in his statement, angry at what he said were false accusations by the Mexican police. “We finally were free, our injustices over and we were alive.”

It wasn’t until they were across the border that police returned to the Lockwood house, searched further and discovered Engels’ allegedly stolen purse and Falkenstien’s jewelry in the bottom of a laundry basket.

When police also found Falkenstien’s missing briefcase and wallet--still stuffed with cash--in the trunk of the Lockwoods’ car, they turned to American authorities for help.

A check with the California Highway Patrol revealed that the Lockwoods were really named Gary and Patricia Locklear, and that Gary Lockwood was wanted for grand theft in Florida.

Florida police then told them that Gary Lockwood had owned a business near St. Petersburg in which he trained and boarded exotic birds--until one day in early 1986, when he left town with $20,000 worth of birds.

About a year later, Gary Lockwood was arrested in Dana Point after being pulled over on a traffic violation.

But while free awaiting his arraignment, he fled to Playa La Mision. “I was fearful of being sent to Florida, sitting in jail for years before going to trial,” Lockwood wrote in the statement he sent to a friend after the Falkenstien shooting.

In the statement, Lockwood denied that he and his wife were responsible for placing Falkenstien’s briefcase and wallet in the trunk.

About two weeks after Falkenstien’s death, two Mexican police investigators came to Orange County, in an attempt to again question Engels and the Lockwoods. The officers even held a press conference, announcing that Engels was a “strong” suspect and that the three friends were being sought for questioning.

Nowhere to be Found

But the three were nowhere to be found. In a recent interview, Investigator Manuel Carrasco said he has called Engels’ parents in Wilmington, Calif.: “They say they don’t know where she is.”

Mexican police believe the Lockwoods are now in Arizona, having left California in Falkenstien’s motor home. However, Engels is still believed to be somewhere in California.

Because Engels has committed no crime in Orange County, there is no reason for local authorities to pursue her, said Bryan Brown, a deputy district attorney in Santa Ana. To get Engels back to Rosarito, the Mexican government would have to extradite her. But that can occur only when Engels is formally charged with a crime, officials said.

“Extradition proceedings are very difficult and very, very rare,” said Howard Betts, vice consul for the U.S. consulate in Tijuana.

And there the investigation stands.

Mexican police say they have been told that Falkenstien had a $60,000 life insurance policy that doubled in value if his death occurred other than by suicide. The $120,000 is to be split by Engels and the dead man’s first wife, Delores Marie Falkenstien, Investigator Carrasco said.

Meanwhile, the disposition of Falkenstien’s estate continues in Orange County probate court.

Several weeks after his death, a will was filed leaving everything to Delores Falkenstien, a Glendora schoolteacher who was married to the businessman for 17 years. The will was signed in 1975, just after the couple divorced, and a list of Falkenstien’s assets are still being compiled, said Richard Saavedra, attorney for Delores Falkenstien. She did not return calls for comment.

Owed $35,000

As it turns out, Falkenstien’s moneyed life style was not all it seemed: Creditors are seeking $200,000 from an estate at this point valued at $22,000.

Falkenstien owed $35,000, according to records, on his Cadillac and Chevy Blazer leases; he had lived in apartments and did not own a home; and a client of his advertising business claims he is owed $120,000.

The former landlord for Falkenstien’s business is seeking $37,000 in back rent. And Falkenstien’s business was neither licensed to operate in Newport Beach nor incorporated with the secretary of state. Other creditors are seeking money for phone and credit card bills.

The mystery of Falkenstien’s life and death remains a subject of speculation among his friends and business colleagues.

“We’re just sort of baffled,” said Dufau, Falkenstien’s former employee. “We’ve decided no one will ever really know what happened to him.”