The Drowning Pool

by Jacqueline Seewald

  “You’re not the one to decide that, Mr. Scofield. You’re too deeply involved.”

  Scofield looked away. “I gave my word, and I take that very seriously. In spite of what you might think, I am a moral man. I live by a strict ethical code of values, although they may be different from those of some people.”

  “I respect your feelings, Mr. Scofield, but holding back information of any kind makes you and your wife both suspect. You don’t want that, do you? We must have all of the truth.” Gardner had no intention of backing off. This was too important.

  Louise took his hand and pressed it. “Please, tell them what they want to know.”

  Scofield looked at Joan Walling. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, then he turned back, his cerulean eyes fixed on Gardner. “After Lou left the apartment that night, I got a call from Joan. She asked to speak to Lou. Naturally, I became upset.”

  When Scofield paused, Gardner prodded him on. “Why would the call upset you? Doesn’t your wife normally receive phone calls from Mrs. Walling?”

  “Yes, but Lou told me that she and Joan would be out together shopping.” His reluctance was evident.

  “I see. Mrs. Walling was the girlfriend your wife claimed to be spending the evening with.” Gardner pressed on. “Mrs. Scofield, wasn’t it rather careless of you not to clear the story with Mrs. Walling?”

  “I did. Joan promised to cover for me. I don’t understand.” Louise Scofield’s expression was one of bewilderment.

  “I forgot,” Joan responded quietly. She avoided Louise’s gaze.

  “How could you? I even reminded you that afternoon. You knew I was going to the doctor. If Bill ever asked you about the evening, you were supposed to verify my story.”

  “When I phoned, I didn’t realize you’d already left.”

  “I don’t believe you. I told you the time of my appointment.” Louise’s face flushed with anger.

  “She blew it. Just write it off, okay?” Scofield sounded embarrassed.

  “Mrs. Walling, why didn’t you tell Mr. Scofield where his wife really was at that point?”

  “He didn’t ask.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Anyway, Lou didn’t want him to know.”

  “Bill, why didn’t you come out and ask me that night, instead of thinking all those horrible things?”

  Scofield shifted uneasily in his chair. “Joan was mortified. She knew you’d be angry with her if you found out what she’d done. So she begged me not to tell you. I gave her my word. Joan does value your friendship. Sometimes, Lou, you’re not the most forgiving person.”

  “I’ve had a very good teacher in that regard.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You’re being awfully chivalrous toward Joan, but then you always are to women who play up to your male ego. I can’t remember a waitress who smiled at you that didn’t get over-tipped in return.”

  “What has that got to do with anything?”

  “Joan was trying to cause trouble between us. I see that now. She was jealous of our relationship and you fell right into her trap.”

  “Who confided to her in the first place? She was your friend.”

  “She was never my friend. I just didn’t know it.”

  Bert moved toward them but addressed her comments to Gardner. “I checked out Mrs. Scofield’s story with her doctor. She was in his office nearly two hours on the evening in question.”

  Louise smiled at Bert with an expression on her face indicating that she considered Bert an ally; she sensed Bert’s sympathy and instinctively trusted her.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Gardner could see Martin Walling beginning to stir restlessly, like a bear coming out of hibernation. He turned his heavy body uncomfortably in his chair, perspiration standing out on the round bald spot near the top of his head.

  “Look here, Lieutenant,” Walling began, “I don’t see any reason why Joan and I should have to hang around here. You seem to be dredging up a lot of dirt and destroying some good friendships in the process. And that’s all you’ve managed to accomplish. If you have any specific questions to ask us, my wife and I are more than willing to cooperate, but I resent what you’re doing here.”

  Gardner accepted Walling’s criticism calmly. “You’re right, Mr. Walling. But I do have some definite questions for you. So count on staying for a while.”

  “There isn’t a thing I can add to what I’ve already told you. I’ve been completely open with you, not like some people.” He tossed an accusing look in Scofield’s direction.

  “Not completely open, Mr. Walling. But then, a man in your position can’t be expected to do that, can he?”

  The insinuation brought more beads of perspiration to Walling’s forehead. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I was thinking about those warehouse robberies. You did know we’d find out, didn’t you? The way each job was pulled indicates there was an inside man involved. That man had to be you, Mr. Walling.” Gardner paused giving Walling a chance to absorb what he’d said.

  “What the hell are you saying? You must have a few screws missing!” Walling’s fat face turned the color of flaming cherries jubilee.

  “What if I were to tell you that a certain security guard remembers talking to you about his eating habits just a week or so before the robbery at the North Ridge warehouse?”

  “We can trace you to the other two jobs as well,” Bert said, a note of menace in her voice.

  “Coincidence. Nothing more. I talk to lots of people. That’s part of my job.” Walling wriggled in his chair like a trout on the hook.

  “Yet you managed to find out the schedule of each security guard.”

  “I know my rights. I don’t have to discuss this with you until I see a lawyer.”

  “Of course not. We’re not arresting you, and we’re not asking for a confession of guilt. Oh, just one other thing, we know that Mr. Bradshaw had been doing some checking on you himself. He found out what we did. I suppose he must have mentioned it to you?”

  Walling managed a look of surprise that seemed genuine. “No, he didn’t.” Walling’s hand trembled as he reached into his pocket and brought forth another cigar.

  Cheryl McNeill immediately became agitated, but Martin ignored her. From the look he gave her it was obvious that he held her in contempt.

  “Do I have to hang around while this huge blob of protoplasm puffs pollution into my face?” Cheryl rose to her feet, hugging her slender arms around her willowy body.

  “Don’t even try to light it,” Bert said, pointing a finger at Walling as if she were aiming a revolver. The short, fat man looked up at the intimidating figure and quickly put the cigar away.

  “I got no luck with women,” Walling muttered. No one looked sympathetic.

  “Please let me go,” Cheryl said. “I have nothing further to say.”

  “I have to insist that you remain,” Gardner responded.

  “But why? I wasn’t here that evening.”

  “Can you offer some proof of that?”

  “No one saw me. Ask any of them.”

  “We can’t ask Sonny, can we?”

  “I was at the apartment all evening.”

  “Any phone calls that you made or received during that time? Did you visit any of the neighbors or talk to one of them outside? Did anyone drop by?”

  “No, I was completely alone for the entire evening. I sat and watched television. I waited with dinner until eight. When Rick didn’t show up, I ate lightly and went to bed early. I never left the apartment.” The look on her face defied him to prove otherwise.

  “That may very well be true, but we have only your word for it. There’s no way for us to verify your alibi.”

  She frowned worriedly, deep furrows invading her smooth forehead.

  Gardner pursued his advantage. “Is it true that Mr. Bradshaw arranged for you to have an abortion several months ago?”

  “What?” She was completely taken aback.

  “Please answer.”

  “No o
ne knew about that. How did you find out? Wait a minute.” Cheryl turned to April Nevins. “That old woman had you pegged right—you are a bitch!”

  “Say what you like, but you had a better motive for murdering Rick than any of us,” April countered.

  “Rick was going to marry me. Why should I kill him?” Cheryl raised her head haughtily.

  “Come off it! That’s a load of crap. He wouldn’t marry you or any other woman. He was a user, a taker, and you knew it!” The two women confronted each other angrily.

  “The last time I spoke to him, Rick told me we were going back to California, that his job here was about done. All he had left was to turn in his reports and recommendations. He said he was going to remove himself from the scene.”

  “Did he use those exact words?” Gardner asked. “The term remove, for instance, did he actually say that?”

  Cheryl was thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, that was what he said. I remember it clearly.”

  “He wasn’t talking about me,” April responded hotly.

  “I would like to go over what actually happened on the evening Mr. Bradshaw died. I’d appreciate it if we could be as specific as possible. Try to remember everything. If anyone recalls something different or can add to what’s being said, don’t hesitate to interrupt. It could make a difference.”

  The sun was setting, disappearing down through the pine trees, a huge, fiery ball that assured yet another hot tomorrow. Suddenly it was gone, and only the crescent moon was visible. With the coming of twilight, the people around him were momentarily mute. In the austere silence, the dark, rippling pool exerted an eerie, hypnotic fascination. But it was essentially a body of stagnant water—not like the ocean he loved or the small brook that rippled through the woodlands behind his own backyard. He could almost believe that beneath the tranquil surface of the pool lurked some hideous, amorphous monster poised and ready to strike. A sudden chill descended into his bones. He determined to shake off the fantasy, forcing his mind to return to the realities of the Bradshaw investigation. But the feeling of menace lurked, refusing to go away. Was someone else about to die? Kim tossed him a worried look. Somehow, he realized, she sensed what he was thinking. The connection, the bond between them, was stronger than ever.

  FIFTEEN

  “Mrs. Scofield, let’s start with you. What time did you arrive at the pool?”

  “Let me see, I went to work that day but left a little early. I arrived here about six o’clock.”

  “Where did you sit?”

  “Right about where I am now. I prefer the shade and sit in approximately the same spot each day.”

  “Was anyone with you?”

  “Joan arrived around the same time. We sat together. That was the usual.”

  “How long did you sit together?”

  “The whole time we were here.”

  “Which was until when?”

  She pressed her lips together in concentration. “Until around seven-thirty I think.”

  “And you both left the same time?”

  She answered in the affirmative. It was not the answer he expected.

  “Mr. Scofield, what about you? When did you get here?”

  “Close to six-thirty.”

  “You didn’t come with your wife then.”

  “No, I was later leaving the city. I also dropped by the apartment and changed.”

  “What were your actions on arriving here?”

  “I talked to Lou and Joan for a few minutes. Then I went to the tennis courts to practice my serve.”

  “When did you leave the courts?”

  Scofield set his jaw as he paused to reflect. Gardner observed the hard, angular lines in Scofield’s face and sensed a tenacity of near ruthless dimension; a handsome man but capable of violence.

  “I stayed on the court past seven, took a quick swim, then went in for a shower. I remember glancing at the clock over the snack bar as I came out of the water, and it was about seven-fifteen.”

  “Ms. McNeill, you’ve told us you weren’t here that evening.”

  “That’s right.” Her voice held a distinct chill.

  He’d half expected that she would change her story. “Of course, you don’t have any proof as to where you were, but we’ll let that pass for now.”

  He turned to April Nevins who struck a provocative pose. “When did you arrive here?”

  “I guess it was around six-thirty or so. Bill was on the tennis court.”

  “And you did what?”

  “Went over to talk with Lou and Joan, but I got bored after a short time.”

  “Any special reason for the boredom?”

  “Lou wasn’t feeling so good. She was tired. Joan’s not much of a talker in general and that night, she seemed particularly remote, positively autistic. Anyway, I got restless. I’m the kind of woman who needs stimulating activity. It’s my nature. Since I had my tennis racket with me and Bill was alone on the court, I figured being with him would be more fun. Besides, he always said if I asked, he’d give me a few lessons. I thought it was a good time. I mean, Lou wasn’t in any mood to play. Anyone could see that. So I went on the court and asked Bill to give me some pointers. He was real nice about it.”

  “When did you finish playing?”

  “I don’t know. I stopped when Bill did and took a swim with him. It’s really nice when the pool is empty like that. You feel like you own the place. Makes you feel rich.”

  “And after the swim?”

  “I went into the changing room. I brought my work clothes with me because I had to go straight to the job. I was there by eight o’clock.”

  “What was Sonny doing during that time period?”

  “I hardly noticed him.”

  Gardner raised his eyebrows; that didn’t ring true. “Wasn’t he around?”

  “I remember he was playing basketball with a couple of boys outside the fence around the time I was talking to Lou and Joan.”

  “Anyone else around?”

  She chewed on a fingernail. “The place was kind of deserted, like it always is at that hour.”

  “Ms. Rhoades, where were you?”

  “What?” She gave a startled movement, as if someone had woken her from a deep sleep. “I already told you, Lieutenant,” she responded irritably. “I was at home. Mother and I were together all evening watching television.”

  “And your mother will confirm that?”

  “There might be some difficulty. Mother is partially paralyzed and has difficulty with her speech. That’s why I’m home every evening; someone has to be with her to take care of her needs. I must say I resent you questioning me about this.” Her tone was scornful and condescending. “Naturally, I did not approve of Mr. Bradshaw’s conduct, but I would hardly murder him for that.”

  “We have to check out all possibilities. I’m certain someone as thorough as yourself understands that.” He could see his last statement appeased her injured pride. “Mr. Walling, when did you arrive?”

  “Around seven. I can’t give you the exact time though.”

  “And what did you do with yourself?”

  Walling was perspiring profusely, although with the setting of the sun, a cool breeze had come up. “I went over to the tennis courts and watched Bill give April a tennis lesson.”

  “Is that true?” Gardner turned his gaze from April Nevins to Scofield. They both confirmed Martin Walling’s story.

  “Martin was watching,” Scofield said.

  “The pervert kept his eyes on my ass every time I bent over to pick up a ball.” April turned on Martin Walling accusingly. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

  “All right, Mr. Walling, let’s go on from there.”

  Walling dabbed at his beefy face with a rumpled handkerchief. “Not much to tell. I was too tired for a swim. When Bill and April left the court, I sat down with the girls. We talked for a bit and then everyone left.”

  “Martin has that effect on people,” Cheryl remarked.

  Walling
threw a nasty grimace in her direction.

  “I drove my wife over to the diner where we had dinner.”

  Scofield corroborated Walling’s story. Gardner wasn’t at all satisfied; something important was missing—what had he overlooked? He looked at Bert, who shrugged, then over at Kim, who shook her head.

  “What was Sonny doing when you entered, Mr. Walling?”

  “Doing?” Walling blinked his eyes as if the question struck him as being in some way peculiar.

  “Was he still playing ball with his friends?”

  “No, he was here.”

  “Did you speak to him?”

  “Only briefly.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing much. I asked him if he’d seen my wife.”

  Gardner raised his brows. “Didn’t you see her? She was supposedly sitting right in plain view. Why would you have to ask where she was?”

  Walling opened and closed his pudgy fist reflexively. “At the time Lou was alone.”

  Gardner felt his heart begin to beat more rapidly. “Mrs. Scofield, didn’t you tell us that you and Mrs. Walling were seated together the entire time?”

  She seemed surprised. “Well, yes, I thought we were.” Her eyes displayed confusion. “I don’t seem to remember when Martin arrived at the pool. I only recall him joining us later on.”

  “That’s because you were sleeping when I first came.”

  “I was asleep? I felt exhausted, but I didn’t realize I dozed off.”

  Gardner wanted to probe the inconsistency further, sensing that something might be gained.

  “Mrs. Walling, where were you at the time your husband arrived?”

  “I went to the bathroom for a few minutes when Lou fell asleep.”

  “Did Sonny later come over to tell you that your husband was looking for you?”

  “No, he did not,” she replied dryly. She rubbed one well-tanned arm with the opposite hand as if she suddenly felt cold. Her small, wide-set eyes narrowed.

  “How did Sonny answer when you asked him about your wife’s whereabouts, Mr. Walling?”

  “Just that she was around somewhere. He wasn’t very specific.”

  “I see. Mrs. Walling, suppose we return to your motives for phoning Mr. Scofield while his wife was away.”