The Drowning Pool

by Jacqueline Seewald

  “I arranged to meet him for a little while in the utility room, thinking we would have a few moments of pleasure together. But Rick told me that he was going back to California, that his work here was finished.” Joan’s hand twitched slightly as her finger edged the trigger.

  Gardner didn’t stir, and Bert was a study in still-life; they watched and listened, waiting for just the right moment to move in on her.

  “Bradshaw told you about Martin’s connection to the drug thefts?”

  “Yes, you’re right. At first, I wouldn’t believe it, but Rick insisted it was true. He said he was going to report Martin’s dishonesty. I begged him not to do it. I told him it would destroy me as well as Martin. He’d be leaving me with nothing. Rick turned his back on me and said he was sick of us both, Martin and me. We were boring, petty people. Then he started to leave. The blood was throbbing so badly in my head I could barely stand the pain. I suddenly hated him so much. He was such a bastard! I saw a baseball bat lying on the floor beside some other pieces of sports equipment. I picked up the bat and smashed it as hard as I could against the back of his head. When I saw him stagger and fall, I hit him again. He didn’t move or speak after that. I looked at him and was certain he was dead. I touched him. There was blood trickling from the side of his head. I was glad he was dead. The keys to the utility room were on the floor where Rick had dropped them when he fell. I took them and left the room, locking the door from outside so no one would suspect. I guess I dropped them into my bag when I sat down again. If I’d just remembered to get rid of them, everything would have been all right.”

  “You found them at April’s apartment?”

  “Yes, I happened to sit on them one day and showed them to April. She absent-mindedly remarked that Sonny must have left his pool keys behind. I decided to borrow them because the utility room seemed like a good place for Rick and me to meet. We only used it that one time. I gave them to Rick just a few days before.” Joan licked her lips. “I’m not sorry I killed him.” She spoke rapidly, one word stumbling over the next. It was a catharsis for her, Gardner realized, a chance to confess, to express her anger and frustration.

  “Why the phone call to Bill?”

  “Rick kept pursuing Lou, even when he was seeing me. Maybe I was jealous. They all want the pretty ones like her. I’ve always been cheated.”

  “Why don’t you let April go? We can’t really talk with her around.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do. You think you’re so clever. April’s another pretty one. I’m going to die anyway. What difference if she joins me?”

  “There’s no reason for anyone to die. Why throw your life away for nothing? There’s a lot more for us to talk about.”

  “I won’t go to prison. I won’t! Why should I allow myself to be publicly ridiculed and humiliated?”

  “It won’t be like that. Give me the gun.”

  “No!” She still held April tightly, but repositioned the weapon at her own head. For a moment, her hand shook. Bert took advantage of the split second that Joan’s resolve wavered. Her movements were fast and sure. Pushing April out of the way, she pounced on Joan Walling. Taking hold of Joan’s arm, Bert wrenched the gun away.

  Joan Walling cried out. “I have a right to kill myself if I want to! Give my gun back!”

  Gardner helped Bert restrain her. They had Joan Walling between them. She began to rant and curse, struggling with them as Gardner cuffed her. He motioned to the other two detectives to join them. Then he read Mrs. Walling her rights on the spot and arranged for Mitchell and Morgan to bring her in for booking.

  “Christ, I’m glad that’s over with,” Bert said as the two detectives drove away with Mrs. Walling.

  “Not as much as I am,” April Nevins said. She was trembling uncontrollably.

  “We’ll take you home,” Bert told her.

  “Will you stay for a while?” she asked, her eyes fixed on Bert. “I’m not feeling so great.”

  “A little while,” Bert replied.

  “You take the car,” he told Bert. “Just drop me back at the swim club.”

  Gardner needed to get back to the pool to let the others know what had happened. As he expected, the announcement of Joan Walling’s arrest upset everyone into a shocked silence. After that, the club quickly emptied out.

  “I’m glad no one got hurt,” Kim said, relief evident in her voice. “I had a fear it was going to end badly.”

  “You and me both,” he admitted.

  “Are you satisfied with the resolution?”

  He didn’t answer her. Something was bothering him about the confession Joan Walling had volunteered, and he kept turning it over in his mind. She’d probably retract it or change it anyway, once she’d calmed down. Instinct told him his work on the case was far from finished. He badly wanted it to be over but knew there was still more to this case. Damn, until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how tired he felt. Oh well, as Scarlett O’Hara had said, tomorrow was another day.

  “Would you like to come back to my place?” Kim asked. Her gaze caressed him.

  “There’s nothing I’d like better. But I don’t have my car.”

  “Good. I can drive you for a change.”

  “Did I ever tell you how sexy you are when you take charge?”

  “No, but I don’t mind hearing it.”

  He leaned over and nuzzled her neck. “I don’t plan on doing a lot of talking,” he whispered into her ear.

  She smiled at him. Then for just a moment they joined hands, holding to each other tightly, as they looked out at the setting sun reflected on the undulating water which concealed so much.

  SIXTEEN

  “The newspaper sure gave the Bradshaw case a lot of coverage,” Gary Sargent remarked, placing the Star-Ledger on the picnic table.

  “Big deal,” Evie said. “They don’t even mention my dad.” She picked up a bowl of potato salad and passed it around. “He’s the one working the case.”

  Evie had invited Gary for dinner. Gardner still hadn’t warmed to the boy, although the kid was making a definite effort to be pleasant to everyone. Kim was going to join them, and that would make everything a lot more enjoyable for him. Bert had also accepted his invitation.

  “Mrs. Walling got a lot of notoriety,” Evie said, passing along the coleslaw which was practically untouched. “What’s she like, Dad?”

  “A very complex person.”

  Evie groaned. “You hardly tell us anything about your work.”

  “I don’t like bringing it home with me.”

  “What gave Mrs. Walling away?” Gary asked. His eyes opened wide in blatant curiosity.

  “There was something peculiar about her behavior.”

  “You mean she was real nervous?” Jean took a large helping of the potato salad as she spoke.

  “The reverse. She had too much self-control.”

  “And that made her seem suspicious?” Gary raised his brows in confusion.

  “Most people questioned in connection with a murder investigation show signs of tension whether they’re innocent or not.”

  “I just figured she had nothing to hide,” Bert said.

  “The majority of violent people don’t behave like icebergs.” Gardner got up and checked the grill. “But icebergs can be pretty deceptive since only a fraction of slippery surface ever shows. Evie, bring the big plate over. The burgers are done and the chicken’s about ready.”

  Gary Sargent persisted on the topic. The young man seemed fascinated by the case. Evie explained that he was planning to be an attorney and, if possible, specialize in criminal law.

  “So how do you figure a person like Mrs. Walling?” Gary continued. “I mean, if she’s outwardly quiet, passive, withdrawn, how would you ever guess she could explode and go berserk?”

  “There are some people who repress their anger and hostility much more than they should. Normal people express their rage—like Evie does when I come home late from work.”

  Sh
e scowled at him. “Dad, when were you ever on time? But I hardly ever get angry. I’m even-tempered and understanding.”

  He and Jean exchanged knowing glances and Gary smiled.

  “Well, anyway,” Gardner continued, “there is a type of person that can’t let things out, can’t communicate his or her feelings, and as a result, tends to feel isolated. Often this kind of person is hypersensitive and is disturbed by real or imagined injustices and rejections. So when the pressures get to be too much, the individual erupts like a volcano. And the blast can be deadly. Mrs. Walling’s job as a systems analyst was comfortable and well-ordered. She was happy and secure in it. But her marriage to Martin Walling brought her unexpected frustration that she couldn’t manage.”

  “Why would any woman marry a man who made her that unhappy?” Evie’s gray eyes opened wide in bewilderment.

  “Where men are concerned, she’s always had problems. She believed by not getting married, she was missing out on something. When Martin Walling came along, she saw him as her only hope and desperately set out to snare him. Unfortunately, her success brought her face to face with another problem: she had to live with Martin, and she couldn’t stomach him.”

  “He’s really gross?” Jean asked.

  “A total slob,” Bert said. “Locate porcine in the dictionary and you’ll find his picture under it.”

  “The affair with Bradshaw was Joan’s release, her escape. It made living with Walling tolerable for a while. When Bradshaw dumped her, she couldn’t cope.”

  “You think they’ll go for a temporary insanity plea?” Gary inquired.

  Gardner looked the boy over, relieved to see that he had recently condescended to get a haircut.

  “Hard to tell, but I doubt it. For one thing, it’s difficult to prove, though with a good lawyer, you never can tell. Still, that woman is far from crazy.”

  “Dr. Freud has spoken,” Evie said. “Let’s serve the chicken, Dad.”

  “At your service.” Gardner saluted with a spatula.

  “There’ve been a number of women who got off because their husbands abused them. I mean, who’d ever think a lady could go free after burning her husband to death while he was sleeping in bed or cutting off his…”

  Gardner interrupted Gary. “There are children present.”

  “Sorry. What will happen to Mr. Walling?” Gary was a bulldog, no doubt about it.

  “We’ve got a good case there. We brought him in this morning, and he confessed to being the inside man on all three robberies.”

  “Did Mrs. Walling kill the lifeguard too?”

  “She hasn’t confessed to it. We’ll be lucky to get her for the one murder. There are problems with what she told us. And her initial confession doesn’t count because she hadn’t as yet been Mirandized.”

  “They’re always throwing evidence out of court on technicalities,” Gary observed. “I think I’d like to be a prosecutor.”

  “Dad, if this Mrs. Walling hit the victim on the head with a baseball bat the way the newspaper article says, then how did she manage to put his body in the pool?” Evie tilted her head, her expression puzzled.

  “She didn’t. Sonny told us he put Bradshaw’s body in the pool. He was drunk at the time he told us and slightly incoherent, but we understood him. Sonny thought that April Nevins killed Bradshaw. He wanted to help her by removing any suspicion that a woman might have been the killer.”

  “I wonder what made him think April killed Bradshaw? The missing keys I guess. But how did he know about the murder in the first place, and why would he think of throwing the body into the pool?” Bert frowned in perplexity, playing with her woven braids absented-mindedly.

  “I agree. It doesn’t seem like something he would think of on his own.”

  “Damn, we haven’t really finished with the case, have we?” Bert put down her fork in disgust.

  “Let’s just say we haven’t seen the last of the pool club,” Gardner said.

  “I have a feeling no matter what Martha Rhoades does to it, that pool will never be really clean again.” Bert observed.

  “The worst part is that your names aren’t mentioned once in the newspaper article. I don’t understand it.” Evie’s face wore a glum expression.

  “Don’t let it bother you, honey. We’re not mentioned because neither of us had anything to do with releasing the story.”

  “Because the case isn’t solved?” Gary ventured.

  Gardner chewed thoughtfully on a barbecued drumstick and enjoyed the charcoal flavor in spite of the fact it would probably give him cancer one day. Captain Nash had decided that the Bradshaw case was closed with the arrest of Joan Walling. But as far as he was concerned, there were too many loose ends and too many unanswered questions. He was far from satisfied. Gardner pushed his plate away.

  “Joan Walling believes she killed Bradshaw, but I’m not fully convinced. Neither is Bert. We really need to get more of the facts straight.”

  He glanced at the newspaper lying on the table and found himself caught by an article that had received a less prominent location.

  “According to this, Mayor Ryan has officially accused the chief of corruption, taking pay-offs and bribes. It says the chief countered by stating the accusations were all political in nature because they’re in different parties. He says that Ryan is trying to get rid of him and put his own man in office.”

  “Who’s telling the truth?” Bert asked.

  “Both and neither,” Gardner said with a shrug. “This town has a history of corruption, and I don’t think anyone will ever change it no matter how hard they try. It’s really a state-wide problem. Every politico has deep pockets. That’s why things remain second-rate.”

  “It seems to me, we should all be trying to make things better,” Bert said with a deep frown.

  “Spoken like an idealist.”

  She was studying him. “I never figured you for a cynic.”

  “Just a realist.”

  Bert shook her head. “Eventually, you’ll be forced to take sides.”

  “I hope not. I live and work in this town and my kids go to school here.”

  “All the more reason for you to want it clean. You ought to run for public office or something.”

  “I’m no politician.”

  “You speak with an air of authority.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m too full of myself?”

  “Maybe just full of potato salad,” Bert said with a grin.

  Kim joined them at that moment. Gardner welcomed her with a warm smile. The conversation had become too intense. He needed a change in direction. He hadn’t meant to discuss the murder investigation with his family. He was going against his own firm principles.

  * * * *

  Kim studied the group of people before her and smiled. She realized how much she wanted to be with them, especially Mike.

  “We started without you,” Mike said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. Rush hour traffic was terrible tonight.” Just the sight of him helped Kim’s nerves relax.

  “Well, I’m glad you made it.”

  She slipped off her suit jacket, folded it neatly and placed it on an empty chair, then joined the others on the redwood benches that faced the large rectangular table. There was a red-checkered cloth and the table practically groaned with plenty of picnic style food.

  “Please help yourself,” Evie said. “The cooler has a good selection. So choose whatever drink you’d like as well.”

  “You’re a perfect hostess,” Kim said with a friendly smile.

  Evie looked pleased. Was the girl finally warming to her?

  “We were talking about the newspaper article on Dad’s case,” Jean told her as Kim opened a diet ice tea.

  “I saw it at work today.”

  “Did you see how they didn’t mention Dad?” Evie asked.

  “I did notice it.” She turned a questioning look on Mike, who merely shrugged.

  “I told them no comment.
I wasn’t ready to share any details. Captain Nash thought otherwise.”

  The dinner was a pleasant one; a real change for her, feeling like a member of a family. She knew Mike had invited her for that very reason. He wanted her to see what she was missing. All part of his less-than-subtle campaign of courting her. She smiled to herself, not minding the least little bit.

  Bert St. Croix also seemed to be enjoying herself. She’d relaxed, kicked back, was drinking a beer. Kim sensed that the outwardly tough police detective was a sensitive woman, one who’d suffered a great deal in her life.

  Gary asked a question to the group in general. “Do you think all murderers are crazy?”

  Kim bit her lower lip thoughtfully. “I think anyone who consciously plans the murder of another human being has to be mad.”

  Bert looked stricken. Why should her comment upset Bert that way? Kim was puzzled.

  “Sometimes, the taking of a life is necessary,” Bert said with emphasis.

  * * * *

  When dinner was over, Gary asked if he could take Evie out for a drive.

  “How late?”

  Gary swallowed hard. “Just an hour or so, sir.”

  Mike looked at his watch. “All right. But first you’ll have to drop Jean off at her friend’s house. She has a sleepover tonight.”

  Bert said goodnight and left when the kids did.

  “I’ll clean up,” Kim said.

  Mike grabbed her hand. “I don’t think so. I have other plans for you.”

  “You do?”

  “I definitely do.”

  Mike pulled her into his arms and kissed her lips with a smacking sound. He tasted of beer and burgers and something else, an indefinable masculine essence that she found irresistible. Mike led her into the living room, sat down on the couch, pulling her on to his lap. She settled against him, her head pressed against his chest, enjoying the feel of his body, the solid beating of his heart. The strong lines of his face were softened in the glow of lamp light.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t more of a help to you the other day dealing with your suspects. I didn’t contribute much.”