by Stuart Woods
“Sure,” Charlie said.
“Let’s start again,” Tommy said to the chief. “We’ve just had some new information that’s very interesting.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” the chief said. “Tell me.”
“At our last meeting I told you my theory of another man who helped Clare Carras murder her husband.”
“I remember,” the chief replied.
“Now we think we may know who the man is.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Listen to this: the Olde Island Racquet Club is run by a man named Merkle Connor, called Merk. We looked into his background and learned that he has a history of playing around with other men’s wives. In fact, it almost got him court-martialed when he was in the army. He was having it off with his commanding officer’s wife.”
“Interesting parallel,” the chief said.
“Right, and there’s more. As a result of his philandering, Merk got shipped up to the Aleutians, where his daily work was setting explosive charges on a road they were building.”
“Ties in nicely with the exploding yacht, doesn’t it?”
“Right. And remember, when the yacht went up, both Chuck Chandler and the other instructor, Victor Brennan, were having dinner with the Carrases at Louie’s.”
“But not Merk.”
“Not Merk.”
“I like this, Tommy.”
“There’s more, Chief. We’ve just had the most enormous break in tying this all together. A girl who’s visiting on the island recognized Clare Carras in the grocery store. She knew Clare from Las Vegas and said that the lady was a high-class madam there, and get this, she was married to a tennis pro named Connor.”
“Our boy Merk?”
“That’s my guess, Chief.”
“They’re divorced now?”
“Right. We knew that Merk had gotten clobbered financially in a divorce, but we had no idea it was a divorce from Clare.”
“So they got back together?”
“It’s happened before. How many guys get divorced, then marry their ex-wives again? Happens all the time.”
“Except this time, the lady already had a husband.”
“A very rich one. From the fruits of our search of the Carras place, we know he was worth at least fifteen million, and I suspect he had a lot more hidden.”
“You going to pull in Merk Connor, then?”
“I don’t think we’re ready for that, Chief.”
“Why not?”
“The usual: no material evidence.”
“Bring him in and sweat him, then, see what he has to say for himself.”
Tommy shook his head. “If we do that he’ll just deny everything, and we’re in no position to prove he’s done anything. Right now, our strongest card is that Clare Carras and Merk Connor don’t know that we know about their connection. I think we’re better off keeping an eye on both of them and waiting for something to happen.”
“Wait for what to happen?” the chief demanded.
“For them to make a mistake of some kind.”
“A mistake of some kind? Tommy, you’re driving me nuts.”
“I’m sorry, Chief, but we have to play this game with the cards we’re dealt, and right now our hand just isn’t strong enough.”
“Okay,” the chief said, “then it’s my deal. Here’s what you’re going to do, and I don’t want to hear a word of objection from either of you, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” the two detectives said simultaneously.
The sun was low in the sky as Tommy and Daryl pulled up to the Olde Island Racquet Club. They could see Chuck Chandler as he ended a lesson and walked from the court toward the clubhouse.
“Come on,” Tommy said.
“I wish I knew this was the right thing to do,” Daryl replied.
“We’ve got our orders; let’s make it look good.”
“Is Merk in the office, do you think?”
“He usually is.”
Tommy led the way past the courts and into the clubhouse. Chuck was talking to his student about a racket and how it should be strung. Merk was in his office working at the computer.
“Let’s wait ‘til he’s done,” Tommy said in a low voice. He pretended to be interested in some sweat socks on a display.
Merk turned at his desk and saw Tommy; he got up and came out from behind the counter. “Hi, can I help you guys?”
“We just want a word with Chuck,” Tommy said. “When he’s finished.” He watched Merk go back to his desk.
The student thanked Chuck for his advice and left the clubhouse.
Chuck turned and saw the two detectives. “Hi, Tommy,” he said. “What’s happening?”
Tommy stepped up to the counter. “Chuck, you’re under arrest for the murder of Harry Carras.”
“What?” Chuck said weakly.
“You have the right to remain silent; you have the right to an attorney; if you can’t afford an attorney, one will be appointed by the court to defend you; if you choose to talk to us, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand these rights?”
“Tommy, you can’t believe…”
“Do you understand these rights?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Chuck, let’s do this quietly. Now, I’ll forgo the handcuffs if you’ll give me your word not to make a disturbance.”
“Well, sure I will, but…”
“You want to get some street clothes on?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Daryl, go to the locker room with Chuck.” Tommy watched the two men leave the room. He leaned against the counter and waited. After a moment, Merk, who had heard everything, got up from his desk and walked over to the counter.
“Tommy, did I just hear right?” Merk asked.
“You did, Merk.”
“You really think he did it?”
“That’s where new evidence leads us. I can’t comment further than that.”
“Jesus,” Merk said under his breath.
“What?”
“I was just wondering where I’m going to get somebody on short notice to take his classes.”
Merk, Tommy thought, you’re a sweet guy.
46
Tommy looked at Chuck in the rearview mirror. He was wiping sweat from his face with a towel. “Chuck, listen to me,” he said.
Chuck looked up, and his face was haggard.
Tommy pulled over. “You drive,” he said to Daryl. He got out of the car, then into the back seat with Chuck. “This is not as bad as it seems,” he said. Daryl drove off.
“What do you mean?” Chuck asked. “It’s hard to see how it could get any worse.”
“We’re not going to the station; we’re going directly to the courthouse. Your lawyer is meeting us there.”
“I don’t understand,” Chuck said.
“The chief has spoken to the D.A. and the judge. You’re going to be arraigned in chambers and released on bail. You’ll spend the night at my house, then you’ll go back to work tomorrow morning.”
“Now I really don’t understand,” Chuck said.
The judge did not seem at all happy about the proceedings. “This is the damnedest thing anybody has ever asked me to do,” he said. “Do you people think a murder charge is some kind of game?”
“No, sir,” the D.A. said. “I’m acting at the request of the chief.”
“Chief, do you want to tell me what is going on here?” the judge demanded. “You come in here wanting an arraignment in chambers for a first-degree murder charge, and you want the suspect released immediately on bail of a hundred thousand dollars? For a capital charge?”
“Judge, we don’t believe that Mr. Chandler committed this murder.”
“Then why the hell did you arrest him? What the hell is he doing in my court?”
“I’ll let Detective Sculley explain,” the chief said.
Tommy stepped forward. “Your Honor, we’re at an impasse in this case. Ther
e is circumstantial evidence weighing against Mr. Chandler, but we believe the murder to have been done by other parties. We believe that these parties have caused it to seem that Mr. Chandler is guilty and that they are waiting for his arrest before making their next move.”
“And what is their next move?” the judge asked, clearly very interested now.
“We don’t know, Your Honor, but we believe they may do something that might incriminate them.”
“So this isn’t really an arrest?”
“Officially, it is; unofficially, Mr. Chandler will only appear to be booked for the crime. Nothing will go on his record, which is exemplary, as far as we are concerned.”
“Is there any material evidence against Mr. Chandler?”
“There is, but we believe it to have been planted by the other parties.”
The judge turned to the D.A. “Is it your intention to try Mr. Chandler?”
“Oh, no, sir,” the D.A. responded. “It won’t go that far; we’ll just drop the charges and issue a statement vindicating Mr. Chandler-once we have the real culprits.”
“The real culprits,” the judge repeated tonelessly.
“Yes, sir,” the D.A. replied.
“Well, I’ve certainly never been involved in anything like this,” the judge said, “but I’m looking forward to seeing how it’s all resolved.”
“So am I, Judge,” the D.A. said.
“All right, Mr. Chandler, you’ve been duly arrested and charged with murder in the first degree. How do you plead?”
Chuck looked at his lawyer.
“Not guilty, Your Honor,” the lawyer said. “Request bail.”
“Mr. Chandler, you are hereby released on one hundred thousand dollars bond.” He looked around at the others. “Is that what you all want, gentlemen?”
There was a murmur of assent from the group.
“That’s correct, Your Honor,” Chuck’s lawyer said. “We’ve completed the paperwork for a property bond.” He laid the documents on the judge’s desk.
“Wonderful,” the judge said, signing the documents, “just wonderful.”
Chuck sat at the dinner table in Tommy and Rosie’s new house and ate pasta.
“So, Chuck,” Rosie said, “how you been?”
“Okay, until tonight,” Chuck replied, twirling spaghettini on his fork. “Let me tell you something, you haven’t experienced life until you’ve been arrested on a capital murder charge.”
“I’m sorry I had to put you through that, Chuck,” Tommy said, pouring him some more wine, “but we had to make it look good for Merk. Nothing I could have said would have been as effective, as the look on your face when I read you your rights. If you had known what we were up to, it wouldn’t have worked.”
“And now you want me to go back to work tomorrow morning?”
“Right. There’ll be a story in tomorrow morning’s Key West Citizen announcing an arrest, but withholding your name.”
“You think Merk will take me back?”
“Why not? No one knows but him. And anyway, the last thing he said to me had to do with finding your replacement.” Tommy looked at Chuck’s plate. “You finished?”
“I couldn’t eat another bite,” Chuck said.
“Then why don’t you call Merk now and tell him you’ll be at work tomorrow? After all, we wouldn’t want him to replace you.”
“Okay. How will I explain being out of jail?”
“Tell him you’re calling from the jail, that your lawyer has arranged bail and that you’re being released early tomorrow morning,” Tommy said. “I’ll get on the extension.”
Chuck dialed the number and waited for three rings.
“Hello?”
“Merk? It’s Chuck.”
“Chuck? Where are you?”
“I’m at the jail on Stock Island, but I’m being released tomorrow morning, so I wanted to let you know I’ll be at work at nine, as usual.”
“As usual?” Merk said. “Chuck, when the papers get hold of this, nobody is going to want to take lessons from you.”
“Tommy is doing me a favor; he’s not releasing my name to the papers, so nobody will know. Except you, of course. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep all this under your hat.”
“Well, sure, Chuck; I guess you can keep on teaching, as long as it’s kept quiet. When will the trial be?”
“Not for months.”
“You can get through the season, then?”
“Through the summer, if you want me.”
“Well, sure. I was already looking for somebody; I’ll stop, though.”
“Thanks, Merk; I’ll see you in the morning.” Chuck hung up.
Tommy came back into the room. “You know him better than I; how’d he sound to you?”
“Perplexed,” Chuck said.
“That’s what I thought,” Tommy replied. “One more call to make; this one’s mine.” He looked up the number, held a finger to his lips, and dialed the number.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Carras? This is Tommy Sculley; how are you?”
“I’m all right, Detective.”
“I hope you’ll feel better after what I have to tell you.”
“I hope so, too,” she said. “What is it?”
“We’ve arrested your husband’s murderer.”
“Well, that is good news,” she said. “It’s Chuck Chandler, of course.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m so relieved,” she said. “I don’t know what took you so long; I thought you would never arrest him.”
“It’s only recently that some physical evidence came into our hands; we had to have that before we could move,” Tommy said.
“I suppose you’ll want me to testify,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. The trial is probably going to be some months away, though. His lawyer will do all the maneuvering he can.”
“But there’s no reason for me to stay in Key West, is there?”
“Oh, no, ma’am; not as long as we know where to reach you. Were you planning to leave?”
“As soon as I sell the house, maybe sooner; I’ve been thinking of doing some traveling.”
“You go right ahead, ma’am; just leave us your itinerary.”
“I’ll do that, Detective. Thank you for letting me know.” She hung up.
Tommy put the phone down and held up a thumb. “Now let’s see what she does.”
Clare dialed the number on her portable phone.
“Yeah?”
“They’ve arrested him,” she said.
“I heard,” he replied.
“The length of hose apparently did it.”
“There was a mention of new evidence.”
“We’ll make our move soon.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
She hung up, took a deep breath, and sighed. “At last,” she said aloud to herself.
47
Chuck stood in front of the jail building on Stock Island and waited. He had been smuggled there earlier that morning in the back of Tommy’s car, walked in one door and out another of the facility, and allowed to telephone for a ride. After a few minutes Meg drove up in the Porsche, and he got in.
“What’s happened?” she said, kissing him.
“They arrested me for murder,” Chuck said, “but there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about!” she cried.
“Please, Meg, just drive back to Key West Bight; I’ll try and explain on the way.”
“I rode my bicycle to the tennis club and got the car. I’ll have to ride back with you to get the bike.”
“Fine, I appreciate your doing this.”
“I don’t understand how you can be so calm,” she said, thrusting the morning paper at him. The headline read:
ARREST IN CARRAS MURDER
Chuck quickly scanned the story to make sure his name wasn’t mentioned. “Whew!” he said when he had finished. “I’m not calm, believe me. I’m more than a little scared
.”
“Start explaining,” she said.
Chuck explained. While doing so he made a great effort to follow Tommy’s instructions and not look over his shoulder to see if anyone had taken note of his leaving the jail.
He was at the tennis club on time, showered and ready to teach. Merk was at his desk as usual.
“Everything okay?” Merk asked.
“I think so,” Chuck replied.
“I don’t know how you can be so calm about this. I’d be a nervous wreck.”
“I’m not calm, but I’m glad you thought so. If I can just get through the day with my students, I’ll be all right.”
Victor walked into the clubhouse. “Hey, Merk told me what happened. I’m sorry; anything I can do?”
“I don’t think so. I made bail, and I’m out until the trial rolls around.”
“What’s your lawyer saying about your chances?”
“He’s not telling me a lot, just not to worry. Fat chance of that.”
“He’s right, though; you’ve got to get through this somehow, and worrying isn’t going to help,” Victor said. “Well, my clinic is gathering on the court. You let me know if I can do anything-and I mean anything-to help.”
“Thanks, Victor,” Chuck said. He got his racquet and went out to his lesson. He noticed that in spite of hearing what Victor had said, Merk had made no offer of help.
At the end of the day, Victor approached Chuck. “Can I buy you a beer, buddy?”
“Tell you what, Meg is back; why don’t you come aboard Choke for dinner? You can bring the wine, and a girl, if you can find one.”
“Love to, and I’ll bring the wine, but it’s a little short notice for a girl.”
“We’ll have you all to ourselves, then,” Chuck said. “Seven o’clock?”
“Seven it is,” Victor replied. “Red or white?”
“Both; why take chances?”
At seven, Victor rapped on Choke’s hull with a wine bottle. “Prepare to repel boarders!” he shouted.
“Did you bring the wine?” Chuck called from below.
“Yep.”
“Come aboard, then.”
The three of them dined on pasta and pork chops, and both bottles of wine vanished in due course.
