“Don’t lecture me. You’re nothing. I buy and sell guys like you anytime I want.”
Bert responded to Page’s arrogance. “Don’t count on it.” She waved the gun she held in the builder’s face.
“Are you done with your questions?”
“Not quite. We still have a murderer to find. Let’s go back to when you left the pool that night. Did you shut off the lights and lock up?”
Page was thoughtful. “I guess I did,” he responded with a shrug.
“That’s not good enough. Did you lock up? This is important. You must have been in a hurry to leave after discovering Bradshaw in the storeroom. What exactly did you do?”
“I did lock up, but I forgot to shut off the flood lights around the pool.”
“When you saw Bradshaw, did you examine him? Did you feel for a pulse?”
“No, he looked dead.”
“You didn’t think to call for assistance? That the man might still be alive?”
“I had my wife and myself to think about, my reputation and hers.”
Gardner didn’t comment on Page’s selfish disregard for human life; he didn’t think it would do much good. “What time were you at the pool?”
“Probably around nine o’clock, not much later.”
“Did Cheryl try to blackmail you?”
“Her? No, she’s a nice kid. I just wanted to give her a gift. Look, that business before about having you guys killed, I lost my temper is all. I wouldn’t really off you. I don’t do things like that. I’m a respectable businessman. Let’s forget it, okay? My wife and I have cooperated. Now you know we had nothing to do with the murder.”
Gardner decided it was nice to see Page sweat a little.
“It’s been beautiful,” Bert said sarcastically. “Let’s do lunch sometime.”
Outside the large, colonial structure, Gardner turned to Kim and Bert.
“You were both terrific. We won’t have any more trouble with Page.”
“Yeah, but we’ve arrived at another dead end. And I screwed up. If I’d stayed outside, they wouldn’t have gotten wise to you.” Bert sounded dejected.
“We don’t know that for sure. Right now, we’ve got to get you over to the emergency room and have that hand taken care of. It must hurt like hell.”
“I’ll take Bert’s car back to the house,” Kim said.
“Are you okay?” Gardner asked, placing his arm around her.
“Now that my legs stopped quaking like gelatin, I’m terrific.”
“That’s my girl. You’re tough.”
“I ain’t so tough,” Kim said.
“Humphrey Bogart?”
She smiled at him, displaying her even white teeth. “No. Jimmy Cagney’s last line in Public Enemy.”
“You’re just full of little tidbits of information, aren’t you?”
“It goes with the job.”
She gave him a deep kiss and he felt an unexpected surge of desire.
“Catch you later,” he said, wondering if she’d feel as frisky once the adrenalin rush wore off. He sure hoped so.
TWENTY-ONE
Gardner drove off in the van with Bert after watching Kim leave in the unmarked police car, relieved that they’d managed to survive their ordeal. They were only twenty minutes from the hospital, but the wait in the emergency room seemed unending. While Bert’s hand was being attended to, Gardner closed his eyes and concentrated on the Bradshaw case again. They were very close now; he could feel it. Something gnawed at the edge of his consciousness. Why had Sonny thought April Nevins killed Bradshaw? Why had he put Bradshaw’s body in the pool? How had he known Bradshaw was dead in the first place? They couldn’t ask Sonny those questions. The next best thing was to question April Nevins again. Although she gave the impression of being forthright, you could never tell with a murder suspect. He was anxious to get going but managed to wait patiently for Bert, who finally reappeared with a neatly bandaged hand.
“Does it hurt much?”
“They gave me something for the pain so I wouldn’t feel it when the Doc stitched me up.”
“I’m going to drop you at your apartment. You’ve had enough for one day.”
“Not a chance. We’re finishing this case together. Besides, I’m pretty good with my left hand too.”
“So I noticed. I was planning to visit April Nevins before she goes to work.”
“You’ll get more from her if I’m around,” Bert said. “She seems to trust me.”
* * * *
April probably had been asleep, because she took her time answering the door and was dressed in her silk kimono, her hair unkempt. Still, the place looked a little neater than usual, as if she’d made some effort to deal with the clutter.
“I’m sorry we have to trouble you again,” Gardner said politely. “There are just a few additional questions that need to be asked.”
“Such as?” She eyed him warily.
“Well, let’s go over your movements after seven-thirty on the night Bradshaw died.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Lieutenant, I told you all that before. I don’t understand. Didn’t I help you enough when I identified the picture?”
“It was a great help, but we need more.”
She shook her head and a tawny lock of hair fell across her face like a curtain dropping.
“Satisfy the man,” Bert urged. “He’s a perfectionist.”
“Okay, I took a swim and left the club before eight. I changed there because I didn’t have time to waste. I started work a few minutes past eight. You can check with my boss. He keeps track.”
“For some reason, Sonny thought you killed Bradshaw. He told you and his mother that. Why?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Sonny was dumb.”
“What exactly did he say to you?”
She cast her eyes downward. “He said stuff about putting Rick in the pool for me.”
“That’s what we need to know about,” Gardner said.
She gazed at him, fear in her expression. “I told you all I know. Please leave me alone.”
Gardner saw that she was closing up. He turned to Bert with a silent appeal.
“April, Lieutenant Gardner doesn’t think you killed Bradshaw. Neither do I. It’s just that you might know more than you think. You do want to help us break this case, don’t you?” There was actual warmth in Bert’s voice.
“I just don’t want to get in trouble,” April said.
“It’ll be okay.”
April’s eyes looked into those of Bert. “Sonny claimed he put Rick’s body in the pool as a favor to me. I got angry and called him some names I’d rather not repeat. Then he got real sore and said I shouldn’t play games with him, that he’d done just what I asked him to do. I exploded at him. He was drunk and ranting. That’s when I called you guys. I never told him to do any such thing. Are you satisfied?”
“You did fine, girl.”
April studied Bert. “What happened to your hand?”
“A dog confused it with his dinner.”
April looked sympathetic. “Let me get you a cup of coffee. It’ll only take a minute.” She was in the small kitchenette before either of them could say anything.
Bert gave Gardner an embarrassed shrug. April returned minutes later holding a large ripe nectarine, took a bite out of it, licked her lips, and then handed it to Bert who shook her head at the offering.
“Take it! Better than a cigarette, right? I seem to be all out of coffee.”
Bert accepted the fruit and took a bite.
“See? No more cigs. I’m reforming like you wanted.”
“Don’t do it for me,” Bert said. “Do it for yourself.”
“It’s not so easy to stop. I’m an addict. That was the one thing Rick and I really had in common. We were both chain smokers.”
Something clicked in Gardner’s mind. “He smoked at the pool?”
“Lieutenant, he smoked anywhere he could get away with it.”
As they start
ed to leave, April put her hand on Bert’s arm. “I just want you to know that I didn’t kill Rick or Sonny. I hope you believe me.”
Bert looked at her long and hard. “I believe you. You’re doing good, sister. Keep off the nicotine. Doing things that make you feel good about yourself is the key. You develop self-respect, and others will treat you the same way.”
* * * *
“You sure you don’t want to go home and rest?” Gardner asked Bert after they’d left April’s apartment.
Bert shook her head. “I’m okay.”
Gardner thought she looked a little gray around the gills. “You might not want to make our next visit.”
“Why’s that?”
“I have to see Mrs. Blake again.”
Bert didn’t say anything, but the expression on her face told him the encounter with the Blakes had not been forgotten. “You might need back-up today.”
“Not with Mrs. Blake. I’m sure the sons are working at this hour. You could rest in the car while I talk with her. I’ve only got a few questions anyway.”
Bert agreed with a look of relief.
* * * *
Gardner took Mrs. Blake by surprise. She placed her hands to her chest when she answered the door and saw him standing there, then led him into the house with something less than enthusiasm. He followed her into the living room. The strains of violins accompanied a tender moment in a soap opera. Mrs. Blake didn’t bother to shut off her television.
“What are you coming back here for? Did you arrest the woman who killed my boy?”
“I wonder if we might have a brief talk. Just to clarify something.”
“Will it help you get my son’s murderer?”
“That’s the whole idea.”
She seemed to relax a little after that.
“You remember telling me that Sonny was certain April Nevins killed Bradshaw. Why was he so sure?”
Her bony shoulders rose in a shrug. “He was certain is all.”
“But something or someone made him certain. Think back. What was it?”
“He got a phone call. Didn’t I tell you that before?”
“Go on. Who was the phone call from?”
“Who do you think? That whore! She told him what she wanted him to do and he done it.”
“So someone called and told Sonny to put Bradshaw’s body in the pool?”
“That’s right. He told me it was that slut.”
“So a woman called and identified herself as April Nevins—but was it really her?” He was thinking out loud.
“Well, it had to be her.” Mrs. Blake spoke in an exasperated tone of voice. She gave him a look that suggested she thought him terribly dense to be raking over the same facts. He didn’t care; he wanted to make certain of every point so there would be no mistakes later with the case. Attention to detail was crucial. It could make the difference between conviction and dismissal.
“What time did Sonny get that call?”
“It had to be somewhere between nine-thirty and ten in the evening. I can be pretty sure because one of my favorite shows was on and I remember being annoyed to have to get up and answer the phone. It was a woman’s voice, and she asked for Sonny. After he talked to her, his face was like chalk and he went out without saying a word to me.”
“Then how do you know it was April Nevins who phoned?”
“’Cause we talked about it after that nasty colored detective of yours come pushin’ in here.”
He decided to ignore her prejudice and stick with the main topic. “Do you remember anything at all about the phone call? Background noises for example. Was there music or people talking as if the call were made from a bar?”
“No, nothin’ like that,” Mrs. Blake said. “But come to think of it, I did hear a dog bark.”
He thanked the woman for her cooperation and quickly left the rundown house. He could hear her turn the television set up as he closed the door behind him. Bert was napping as Gardner got back into the car, but she was obviously a light sleeper because the sound of the door closing woke her.
She sat up and yawned. “I think that pill they gave me at the hospital wiped me out. Get anywhere with Sonny’s mama?”
“Maybe,” Gardner said.
Bert studied his face. “Not giving much away, are you? But you think you know who killed both vics. Come on, give.”
“Just a suspicion right now. A woman phoned Sonny and claimed to be April Nevins. She asked Sonny to drop Bradshaw’s corpse in the pool.”
“Whoever made that phone call was the murderer?”
“I’m sure of it.”
Bert’s dark, fathomless eyes were alert, and there was concern in them as well. “You don’t think it was April after all?”
“That’s the obvious conclusion—maybe a little too obvious.”
“I’d hate like hell for it to be her.”
“Sonny thought she called him. The question is, if someone else claimed to be April, would Sonny be able to recognize an impersonation?” Gardner rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“We know he wasn’t sharp. Still, he should have been able to pick out her voice.”
“Of course, the voice could have been deliberately muffled, or in some respects similar. I’d say it was possible to fool him.”
“That person had to know that Sonny and April were getting it on.” Bert’s eyes became more focused.
“That would include everyone on our list of suspects. It’s also possible Joan Walling made that phone call hoping to protect herself. There are several things we have to go over with her.”
On the drive back to headquarters, neither of them did much talking, but there was no tension between them. They were both absorbed in figuring out how they were going to solve the case. At the office, they began going over the reports on the Bradshaw case one final time. Captain Nash came by the desk where the two of them sat working. He looked from Gardner to St. Croix, a flicker of a smile lightening the rough, lined face.
“Thought you’d like to know the heat is off. I got word unofficially. It seems George Page called up to say that he was pleased at how thoroughly the police department was investigating the Bradshaw killing.”
It was then that the unbelievable happened. Bert St. Croix began to laugh. Gardner stared at her, incredulous; she almost never smiled, yet she was laughing, so hard that tears formed in her eyes.
“What’s with her?” Nash said looking annoyed.
“Private joke.”
“There was a phone call for you from Jerome McKenna. You remember him? He asked especially for you.”
“Sure, he’s the representative spokesman for that senior citizens’ group, the Gray Panthers I think they call themselves. What’s his problem?”
“It seems the senior citizens need a meeting place. They’re planning a health festival. The recreation office set them up at Rourke’s Funeral Parlor. Mr. Rourke is a big benefactor in this town, as you know. He donated the space as a courtesy. But McKenna says the old folks balked when they heard about it. They think it’s bad for the morale of their group to hold a senior citizen health festival in a funeral parlor. Picky old farts.”
“Well, I can see their point,” Gardner said, suppressing a smile.
“I know it’s not the kind of thing we handle ordinarily, but McKenna seems to have high regard for your tact.”
“I investigated a robbery for him last year. I guess he remembered me from that.”
“Must be. Anyhow, he’s worried about offending Rourke. They do a lot of business with him.”
“You can always depend on people dying. A real solid business,” Gardner observed. “Sure, I’ll talk to both of them tomorrow. The library’s got meeting rooms. I’ll see if they can’t book the event there.”
Nash left them, his face almost cheerful.
“You thinking of joining the group?” Bert chided. “I’m seeing gray hairs.”
“Hey, gray hair isn’t so bad. Just ask any bald guy.”
�
�I guess a cop has to consider himself lucky if he lives long enough to get gray hair,” Bert said, looking serious again.
“I don’t think much about dying—there’s no future in it.” It pleased him to see her smile again.
* * * *
Gardner phoned Matt Simmons, Joan Walling’s lawyer, and discovered she was out on bail; charges had been dropped to two counts of assault with a deadly weapon. Gardner was surprised to learn she’d returned to the apartment. Bert shared his amazement.
“You don’t think she’s back with that shit, do you?”
“I can’t believe Walling’d be willing to live with her either,” Gardner said. “Not after she admitted to having an affair with Bradshaw and hating his guts.”
“Not to mention clobbering Bradshaw with a baseball bat.”
* * * *
Joan Walling wasn’t eager to see them at first, but Gardner convinced her they were only going to ask one or two questions that had nothing personally to do with her. She let them into the apartment.
“I’m staying for a few days,” she said defensively, answering their unasked question. “I’m packing my things together and going back to my parents’ house, although Martin and I have talked.” There was a hesitation in her voice. “We might be able to forgive each other and work things out in time.”
Gardner checked himself; it was not his place to give marital advice. He hadn’t done well in that department himself. “Mrs. Walling, apparently Bradshaw was a chain smoker. You said that he was waiting for you in the utility room. Among his effects at the time of his death were a half-smoked pack of cigarettes and a lighter. They were found in his pants pocket. Did you see him smoke while you were with him?”
“Rick always had a cigarette in his mouth. He was orally compulsive.”
She was paler and thinner than the last time he’d seen her, her cheekbones more pronounced, features gaunt.
“Can you recall if there were cigarette butts on the floor?”
“I wouldn’t remember that.”
The Drowning Pool Page 29
