Death on the Sound

by Wayne Saunders

  “I warned Sharon she was fucking with the wrong stallion, but she had to do it her way. He was paying for her favors with big bucks, and she was building her savings rapidly. I think she got a little greedy. She told me the last time I saw her that she’d seen something at Jack’s house that she wasn’t supposed to see.”

  “What did she see?”

  Once again the scan of the room, and a very soft whisper, her perfume was starting to give me a headache.

  “She saw Gino Canutillo shoot some guy in the head out by Jack’s pool. She’d gotten out of the limo, and was coming in the side gate like she always did, and bang, so to speak, she walked into them. She saw another man standing behind Gino. He was dark skinned like an Indian, with an arrow tattooed on his left arm. It ran from his shoulder to below the elbow. She saw it because the pool lights were on, and it was like he was onstage. That was on a Tuesday night. I saw her on Wednesday since we slept together in the same bed, but Wednesday evening was the last time I saw her. She did her act, and that was it; no more Sharon. I reported it to the police a day or so later, but I knew they couldn’t do much. Deep down, I knew what had happened. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Do you remember when that was, as in what month of the year?”

  “I know it was spring because it was starting to get nice. Sharon had started going without underwear to make it easier to handle her tricks. I’d guess May, and that’s only a guess, mind you.”

  “Tawnee you’ve been a big help. Thanks for seeing me.”

  I stood and put my hand on her shoulder as I left.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.

  I walked out through the cheap beaded curtain, and the Godzilla sized bouncer was at the bar flirting with the bartender. He gave me a short wave as I passed by.

  I drove by Towne and Country and picked up Tom. He was out front pacing, and looking at his watch. I pulled up and pressed the passenger window button as I came even with him.

  “You got a hot date or what. Have you been here long?”

  “No, I just hate waiting. I’ve only been here ten minutes. How was your witness?”

  “She gave me quite a bit, how about yours?”

  “The drivers name was Jerry Mulvane, and the boss called him in for a quick one on one. He did remember Sharon, but only because Jack Tugliosi was the payer for the service. He thought he picked her up maybe ten times. Each time he took her to Jack’s house. That’s about all I got from him.”

  I went on to tell Tom about all my characters and what we thought Sharon had seen. Tom thought for a minute and snapped his fingers.

  “Got it, I knew it sounded familiar. The guy with the arrow was “Red Man” Tate. He was the bone breaker for Canutillo, and I think the guy he shot was Tully McBain. Tully was a lieutenant that they thought was playing both sides of the families in town at that time and got caught. A state ferry coming into Pier fifty two spotted the body floating next to a pilling. Bad shit Abby. These guys don’t hold anything back.”

  My cell buzzed on my hip, and I checked it for any calls we had. It was from Maya.

  The flowers are lovely. Everyone in the office is now curious. I’m pleading ignorance, and its driving everyone crazy. You’re a sweetie - Maya.

  Chapter 10

  I smiled and deleted the message. It was followed immediately by a real call. It gave a Lake Washington address and a dead body call – again. I held it up to Tom so he could program the Garmin as we rolled to the Lake.

  Lake Washington is a major sized piece of water next to Seattle. It has on part of its shores extremely expensive mansions. As it turned out, we ended up at one of those mansions. There were three cars, an ambulance, and now us. I parked at the end of the line, and Tom and I checked in with the site control. I spotted a patrol sergeant that I happened to know.

  “Hey, Toni, what’ve we got?”

  “Hi, Abby, we have a Desiree Mason dead of a gunshot to the heart. She was found in the pool by the maid, when she showed up this morning. The bullet appears to still be in the body since there’s no exit wound. That’s all there is, I’ll take you around back. Hey, Tom how’s it goin’?”

  “It’s just peachy damn dandy Toni. Abby’s been keeping too damn busy you got an opening on patrol? I’d like to ride around in a car all day, and shoot the shit.”

  Toni looked back and grinned at Tom.

  “Yeah, right, we’d wear you down in a day Tom. You’d better stay with Abby; she’s taking good care of you.”

  Tom looked over at me and smiled.

  “That she is Toni that she is.”

  We walked around the back of the house to look at a spectacular view of Lake Washington, and then we shortened our view, and saw Desiree floating in the pool face down. She was naked, and there was indeed no exit wound. I surveyed the surroundings, and saw nothing but money. The pool was gigantic, and the furniture alone could make my monthly houseboat payment for a year.

  “Tom, see if you can find anything inside that we might latch onto, okay?”

  “Got it kiddo.”

  I walked around the edge of the pool looking for any sign of evidence that might help us. After a complete circle, there was nothing. I spotted Maya turning the corner with her tool kit.

  “Hey, Abby, you’re having a pretty busy week. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll see what we can see.”

  She was acting very professional and giving no hint that we’d spent Sunday afternoon, in bed, giving each other a CSI style inspection of all openings and crevices. My mind spun back to Sunday as Tom came shuffling out of the house with a book in his hand.

  “Hey, I found this.”

  It was a day timer with an appointment for Garson McConnell at eight thirty last night. She’d had her hair done yesterday afternoon, and a dry cleaning pickup noted. I thumbed back through the pages for the last month, and saw the phrase club meeting twice a week for the past month on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Some were at night, and a few in the afternoon. I followed Tom back into the house, and we went into the office where Tom found the book, and looked up Garson’s number. I tracked down the maid who was sitting inside with one of the lady officers.

  She was a diminutive Asian woman with white well taken care of hair. Her uniform was pressed and pleated. Her name as I had found out was Mioko Sunhari.

  “Hi, I’m sorry you had to go through this, but I need to ask you a couple of questions Ms. Sunhari.”

  “I’ll try, but I don’t know what happened here.”

  Her English was very good. In fact, there were a few mush mouths back at the precinct who could take a lesson from her.

  “First, I notice that Ms. Mason had something called “club meeting” twice a week. Do you know what club that was?”

  Her face suddenly turned away, and I could see her neck start get slightly red. She didn’t respond.

  “Ms. Sunhari, I need an answer, please. If you know you need to tell me.”

  After what seemed like a very long pause she finally spoke.

  “She’s in a swap club.”

  My first thought was sex and knowing Desiree’s age I decided it had to be something different.

  “What kind of a swap club? I need more information please.”

  Again, the embarrassed expression returned to her inscrutable face.

  “She’s a member of a sex swap club. Most are married, but some are single, and just have an opposite partner along to make things come out even.”

  I looked at Tom who had the same “What the hell” look that I’m sure I had on mine.

  “How many people are in this club if you happen to know?” I asked.

  “I think there are about twenty, but not everyone comes to every meeting.

  “Do you know a Garson McConnell, and if so what is his relation Ms. Martin?”

  “He’s usually her partner, but lately she’s been going with Charles Thorne.”

  “Do you happen to know why she changed?”

  �
��I have no idea. She didn’t confide in me about her club activities, which I’m more than thankful.”

  “Do you know any other members of this club?”

  “I only know of Ms. Danford and Mr. and Mrs. Jessup.”

  I thanked Ms. Sunhari and Tom and I exited for the pool to get an update from Maya.

  Tom looked up Danford and Jessup and noted their addresses and numbers. I checked my watch, and it was one fifteen. My stomach was growling, but we couldn’t stop now.

  The crowd had thinned out, and it was just us Indians to finish up. All the black and whites were back on patrol. I spotted Maya at the end of the pool. She was leaning over the victim, who they’d just put in the bag for transport. I came up and had to refrain from putting my hand on her shoulder. I needed to keep the same demeanor that she’d had when she arrived on the scene.

  “Got any info for us Maya?”

  “Her time of death was between nine and midnight last night. I won’t have the bullet info until I get her on the table, but it looks like a twenty two or thirty eight. Shot from inside ten feet. That’s it Abby. I’ll call when I have the rest.”

  ‘Thanks Maya. Come on Tom let’s head out, and try to find Mr. McConnell.”

  I looked back over my shoulder at Maya as she did the same to me. We smiled at each other; alone with our gaze for this one brief moment of our day. Tom hauled out his cell phone, and called the one number in Desiree’s phone book. I could tell that no one was answering because Tom left his usual official police message to call back immediately after getting the message. Tom programmed the Garmin, and in twenty minutes we were pulling up to a similar estate still bordering the lake. I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. The driveway would hold at least twelve cars in front of the three car garage. There was not one blade of grass out of place, and weeds wouldn’t dare grow in the colorfully packed flower beds. The door slowly opened, and yet another oriental maid answered the door. They must have had a sale. I showed my badge.

  “I’m Abby Masters from the police, and this is my partner Tom Culhane. Is Mr. McConnell in please?”

  “Mr. McConnell is not home.”

  “You have no idea where he is?”

  “No, he didn’t tell me. He did say he’d be back before I left for the day.”

  Tom held out his notepad for the maid.

  “We called this number and no one answered. Isn’t this the number for this location?”

  The maid adjusted her glasses and peered at the number.

  “No, that’s his cell number.”

  “Tell Mr. McConnell, when he gets home to call us at this number.”

  I handed her my card, and after an exchange of smiles, Tom and I turned to leave. Tom was already on the phone to the Danford woman. I heard him speaking, so at least someone was home.

  “She’s home, and she’s only two miles from here.”

  I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the street ahead as I drove past the huge palaces along the lake. I just wonder if they’re any happier than I am with Felix, in my little houseboat. Tom reached behind the seat, and pulled out a lunch bag.

  “You want to split a tuna sandwich on the way. I’m starving.”

  I happily took the half sandwich, and gulped it down like little miss piggy. I gave a quick check of teeth, and popped a mint in my mouth as we pulled up in front of Ms. Danford’s house.

  Tom had spent the past minute on the phone with the precinct, and by the large grin on his face had some news.

  “Red Man Tate is in Walla Walla Prison, and will be for the next twenty. It seems he was ratted out by his boss, and took a hit for a killing he never did. I wonder if we asked him about that night by the pool if he’d be willing to trade testimony for some time off his sentence.”

  “Sounds like it’d be worth a trip to see, huh?” I commented.

  We arrived at the Danford house, and it was smaller than the lake homes we’d been accustomed to, but not by much. Tom rang the bell, and succeeded in losing most of the saliva in his mouth when the door was finally opened. Ms. Danford was an early sixties lady dressed in a silk see through blouse with no bra and tight slacks. Her immaculately done silver hair sat atop a very well maintained face.

  “Can I help you?” she asked smiling directly at Tom.

  Tom stuttered his reply.

  “I’m Tom Culhane, and this is my partner Abby Masters. We’re detectives for the Seattle police. May we come in?”

  “I suppose so, what’s this all this about?”

  We were following Ms. Danford. Well, I was following, but Tom was letching. I gave him a short shot in the ribs as we continued into Ms. Danford’s living room.

  “Ms. Danford we’re sorry to have to tell you this, but Desiree Martin was killed last night, and we’re investigating her murder.”

  “Oh my god, oh my god.”

  Ms. Danford looked a bit rocky as Tom leapt up, and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. Ever the gentleman is my Tom. He returned, and sat next to Ms. Danford as she sipped her water.

  “I’m sorry for that, but I wasn’t expecting to hear that one of my best friends is dead.”

  “We just have a few questions Ms. Danford,” I said.

  “Please, call me Clare.”

  Tom now took the helm with the questioning, which he almost never did. I watched his expression, and his eyes dart from breasts to face, trying to maintain some decorum. What a guy?

  “Clare, we understand that you, Ms. Martin, and some others are involved in a swap club. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, our bodies are still behaving, for the most part, and we all enjoy a bit of fun. As they say, “use it or lose it.”

  Clare grinned at Tom. Luckily his hanging mouth condition was only temporary, and he closed it almost immediately.

  “Do you know a Mr. McConnell?”

  “Yes, he’s in our club, as well. He and Desiree are usually partners at our umm, meetings.”

  “You said usually, do they have different partners?”

  “Well, the past three meetings Desiree had Carlton Dumont with her and Garson had come with Amy Jackson instead. I’m not sure what had transpired, but something had changed.”

  “Was Garson speaking to Desiree or did he avoid her?”

  “Oh they spoke but actually, ahem, there’s not a lot of talking at our events.”

  Tom’s face turned a bright red as his pen made nervous circles on his notepad.

  I took the ball back from Tom.

  “Did something happen to make Desiree change her partner like she did?”

  “Well, I did notice that Garson was having trouble umm getting up for our meeting if you get my meaning.”

  “Were you ever aware that Mr. McConnell owned a gun or did you ever see him with a gun?”

  Clare gave a pensive stare up to the ceiling as she thought, and wide grin formed on her lips.

  “Well, we were, how shall I say, in the middle of one of our meetings when someone heard a noise outside. We were at Garson’s house, so he ran into his room, and came out with a small pistol of some type, and then went outside to check.”

  “Was the gun shiny or dark colored?” I asked.

  “It had a shiny barrel, that’s all I saw. His hand was covering the rest.”

  I nodded to Tom, but his eyes were glued to Clare’s breasts.

  “Clare, other than possibly Mr. McConnell was there anyone else that might have had bad feelings toward Ms. Martin?”

  “No, everyone loved her. She was a sweetheart.”

  Tom had given up on being discreet; he was full on staring at her breasts, which was making me uncomfortable. I decided it was time to stop.

  “Thank you Clare, we appreciate your time, and we’re sorry about your friend.”

  As we walked out, Tom was keeping his distance. He knew I was going to let him have it. As we passed by Clare, on our way through the door, she reached out and touched Tom’s arm.

  “We’re looking for new members. I
f you should feel inclined to come to a meeting, please call.”

  Her smile was if nothing else, friendly and hinting at so much more. Poor Tom was almost tongue tied as the words fumbled out of his mouth.

  “Thank you for your offer, but I have a pretty full life now but thanks anyway.”

  We looked back to see Clare wave, and close her door.

  I waited an appropriate amount of time and then launched.

  “Tom, for god’s sake what were you doing back there? Haven’t you ever seen a woman’s breasts before? It’s a wonder every ounce of drool in your body isn’t now drying on your pants from your mouth being open so much,” I barked.

  “You mean to tell me that if Clare was a man with a see-thru crotch that you wouldn’t be staring at his equipment. Give me a break Abby. I am human you know.”

  He did have a point, and I would have had dry mouth from being open so much, just like Tom. I had to admit defeat.

  “Okay, you got me. You’re right, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

  The only bad part about our last exchange was Tom’s self righteous look. I hate to be bested in an argument.

  Tom’s phone rang, and I could tell it was McConnell checking in. Tom told him we were on our way.

  We drove back by McConnell’s house and rang the bell. The maid answered, and nodded to us.

  “He’s waiting for you. Please follow me.”

  We were led into the house that looked a lot like Desiree’s. I looked out through the huge glass side of the house and saw that Garson’s pool was the same size as Desiree’s, but lacked a woman’s touch for decorating. Then I saw Garson sitting in a large overstuffed leather chair in the corner of the room. He pushed his glasses back onto his head.

  “May I help you?” he asked in a semi-snooty tone.

  “Mr. McConnell I’m Abby Masters and this is Tom Culhane we’re from the Seattle police department. I’m here regarding an incident at Ms. Martin’s house.”

  “Desiree, is she alright?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you she was shot last night, and didn’t survive. I need to ask you a few questions.

  As Tom slid outside and started to wander as he does a lot at crime scenes, I watched Garson closely for any telltale signs of guilt. Men are crap when it comes to lying. Women are more sneaky, and harder to read.