I placed the second picture next to the first. “Here’s where it really gets interesting. Jill shot this one a few days ago. I was there when she took the picture. Look at this. Rocky’s got two notches in his dorsal fin. What do you think? Did Rocky get into another fight?”
“You tell me, Socarides.”
“Okay, I will. The fin has two notches because it belongs to an entirely different killer whale.” I looked up and grinned. A grayness had crept onto Austin’s tanned face. “Am I right so far?”
We locked eyes. “Go on,” he said thickly. “It’s your show.”
Nightfall had come. The office was dark except for the yellow circle of light cast by the desk lamp.
“Thanks, Dan. Here’s my theory. We’ve got two different killer whales here. The first photo shows the original Rocky, the one who got sick and died. One notch. The second shot is the animal Livingston smuggled onto Oceanus to take Rocky’s place. Two notches. You must have been really desperate.”
Austin’s face flushed with anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He began to arrange objects and papers on the desk. I leaned back, folded my hands behind my head, put my feet up on his desk, and looked up at the ceiling.
“Your star attraction was dying just when you had enough money to buy back your interest in Oceanus. The Feds might ask embarrassing questions. So Livingston offered to get a new orca for you. The price was high, but he’d settle for a piece of the park. Atwood was fired because he had worked with Rocky and would discover the scam, but most people can’t tell one orca from another. The animals were virtual twins. Both males, both the same size, both with the same saddle-patch patterns and pigmentation. Hell of a good job of matching. With the exception of the notches, the whales were identical in every way save one.”
“What was that, Mr. Socarides?”
I took my feet off the desk. “Their temperament was like night and day. The original Rocky was a mellow easygoing guy who liked to please. But the second Rocky was unpredictable, a real independent cuss. He picked up the tricks in no time, but there was one thing he wouldn’t tolerate. He didn’t like trainers riding him like a horse. In fact, he hated it. He’d bump people off his back and drag them down to make his point. But the whale ride was a crucial part of the show, and you wanted to keep it, so you brought in Eddy Byron because he had a reputation for dealing with difficult animals. He really knew how to crack the whip.”
“It’s no secret I hired Eddy because he had a reputation for being tough. It was one of his strong points.” Austin’s voice had lost some of its tightness and was calmer than before, as if he had resigned himself to a decision. He was sitting back, his face no longer in the pool of light. His hands has stopped their fidgeting. Austin was dangerously calm.
“But toughness doesn’t cut it with a killer whale, does it?” I said. “They’re big and they’re fast and they’re smart. Rocky was more than a match for Byron. He wasn’t going to give anyone a pony ride for a couple of dead fish. Rocky became a challenge to Byron’s reputation. He was going to break him the way a cowboy breaks a bronco. But Rocky didn’t give a fig about Byron’s rep. Byron was just another guy who wanted to play horsey. When Byron tried to show him who was boss, Rocky pulled him under. He let him go, just like he did with the other trainers. It scared the hell out of Byron, though. Even worse, people saw it happen. Byron was a macho dude. He didn’t like being laughed at. His reputation was on the line. It became a personal thing with him. He began to hate Rocky. And that’s what got him killed.”
Austin leaned forward so I could see his face. His mouth was twisted in a sardonic smile. “So you think Rocky did kill Byron?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re not making sense. Either he killed him or he didn’t.”
“He didn’t kill him, Dan. You did.”
The smile evaporated. “That’s ridiculous. Why the hell would I kill Eddy Byron?”
“Let’s talk about that. Byron was no fool. He knew immediately that he was dealing with an untrained whale, not one who’d gotten sick and forgotten his tricks. You had to let him in on the whale switch. You knew it was a lousy idea to entrust a secret like that to a quick-tempered drunk, but you didn’t have much choice.”
“I suppose I fabricated the tooth marks in Byron’s wet suit.”
“Oh, no. They were genuine. The night Byron died, he and Rocky had another go-around. This time Rocky got a little rougher. He grabbed Byron hard enough to rip his sleeve.”
“You’re contradicting yourself.”
“Not at all. I think Rocky grabbed Byron, I didn’t say he killed him. There’s a big difference. Rocky got aggressive when he was under pressure, but he never seriously hurt anyone. That’s the key. You said it yourself. I think scaring trainers became a game with him. It relieved the boredom. Maybe it was just an animal reflex the first time. Then he saw what fun it could be and kept it up. He’d drag the trainers down and let them go, then sit back and watch the reaction. Whales are fascinated by humans. Here was something totally different. They’d thrash around, yell, scream, and do all sorts of amusing things. I was in the pool with Rocky the other night. He came over and presented his back to me. He wanted me to grab onto his fin and get on his back. I’m sure of it, so he could have the fun of scaring me half to death.”
Austin snorted. “That’s nothing but conjecture. Every bit of evidence points to the fact Rocky killed Byron.”
“I thought so, too. In fact I was about to hang Byron’s murder on Rocky and be done with it, but that’s before I heard about the cattle prod.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Eddy Byron owned a cattle prod. I know it existed because Sally Carlin caught him once when he was thinking about using it on the dolphins. Old Ben the watchman saw Byron with the prod the night he was killed. Yet the prod wasn’t found with Byron’s body. It wasn’t in the pool because I looked. So that introduced a third element into the equation. Somebody else saw Byron between the time Ben said hello to him and the next morning when the body was discovered. Somebody who didn’t want the prod found.”
“Why would anybody take this mystical prod?”
“Because it would raise questions. Just picture the animal-rights people getting hold of that one. Hell, they object to you having the whale. Think of what they’d say if they found out you were shocking them. They’d charge you with inhumane treatment. They’d get Congress to investigate, revoke your permits, maybe close Oceanus forever.”
“So I killed Eddy and took the prod. I had a busy night, didn’t I?”
I nodded. “Here’s how I figure it. Byron tried to put the muscle on Rocky, who pulled him down and ripped his suit. Eddy was a drunk. He would have gone back to his office and had a few pops. I can just see him there brooding, looking at the holes in his sleeve, knowing Rocky had beaten him, deciding he was going to punish Rocky. He wasn’t thinking straight. He went out and got the electrical prod. He’d never get near Rocky again after that, but he didn’t care, he had other ideas. He would get him close to the edge of the pool and shock him.”
“You still haven’t told me why I killed Byron.”
“Stay with me. Eddy was an over-the-hill trainer with a reputation so bad nobody in the industry would hire him except you. He was going around the park grumbling that he was worth a lot more money than Oceanus was paying him. It was sort of his way of talking himself into a blackmail scheme. With Rocky putting the cap on his failure, there was nothing left for him.”
“So I snuck to into Oceanus and killed him. Give me a break, Socarides.”
“Okay, I will. I don’t think you planned to kill Byron. You stayed late that night as usual. You had a lot on your mind. Bay State wanted to sell the park. You had first refusal and it looked like the deal would be a shoo-in until the Japanese came into the picture, and Bay State start
ed looking for a legal way to shove you aside. You had sunk a pile of dough buying the new whale—Livingston will vouch for that—and you didn’t have the money to go head-to-head with Bay State. You might never get your beloved park back. You’re steaming about the whole thing when you bump into Eddy at the orca stadium. He’s fuming, too. You ask him about the cattle prod. He shows you the rips in his sleeve. He says he’s going to teach Rocky a lesson. You argue. Maybe you threaten to fire him. That’s when his blackmail intentions bubble to the surface. If you had been thinking clearly, you might have stalled him, but you were furious. You go for Byron’s throat and get the best of him, which isn’t too hard because he’s so drunk. Then you hold him underwater. Later, you take the cattle prod, hoping the toothmarks and Rocky’s past history will be enough to indict him.” I paused to let the explanation sink in. “How’d I do?”
He was silent for a moment. Finally he said, “You’re bluffing. You couldn’t prove a thing you said unless you saw it, and you’ve admitted you weren’t there, so you must have made it up.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I did make it up. I can’t pin Eddy’s death on you….”
Austin gave me a smug smile.
“But I can prove you killed Hanley. It doesn’t really matter to me if you do life for one murder or two.”
“You’re crazy. Why would I kill Hanley?”
“Blackmail again. He found out there was a payoff on your wetlands dredging permit to build this place, and he had proof from his contacts in Boston. You got scared. You hoped the Japanese buy-out would fall through. But Bay State was after top dollar and might use even the hint of a bribery scandal as an excuse to say their original deal with you was void. They could then sell the park to someone else for more money or, at the very least, tie it up in litigation you couldn’t afford.”
“So I killed Hanley to shut him up?”
“Uh-huh. Hanley wanted to hear you squirm, he told me that himself the night he was killed. I’ll bet he called you and told you he was going to meet me and talk about the wetlands deal.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“Don’t be so sure. I remembered Hanley ran out of change when he called me from a pay phone. He had to put his next call on his credit card. I had a friend check the phone company. They have a call to Oceanus on their records. Ben remembers you working late that night. So . . . .”
“So I went to his boat and killed him.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing. You got there before me. You’d already murdered one man, so killing Hanley was a cinch. Then you called the cops. You hoped I’d get so bogged down trying to prove I didn’t kill Hanley that I’d stay out of your hair. When the cops couldn’t make any charges stick, you tried to get me out of the picture. You were afraid I might stumble onto something. That’s why you suggested to Mike Arnold that I work the shark tank and you put fish powder in my pocket to ensure I’d have a warm welcome. And I’ll bet it was you who monkeyed around with my air tank. I can’t prove it, but that’s okay; I’ve got enough to hang you when I go to the cops.”
Again, Austin didn’t reply. He got up and went to the closet, unlocked the door and came back with an aluminum tube about four feet long that had a rubber handle at one end.
“Is this what you’re looking for?”
I took the prod. Austin reached into the closet again and I looked up and into the muzzle of a .22 automatic.
“Actually, that’s what I’m really looking for,” I said. “It’s the gun you used to kill Hanley, isn’t it?”
“You tell me when I shoot you with it.”
“Before you pull the trigger, grant me one last wish. Look out that window. Go ahead, it’s no trick.”
Keeping his eyes on me, Austin glanced through the glass. Four figures were silhouetted against the dolphin-pool lights.
“Who the hell is that?”
“I wasn’t quite honest with you, Dan. I’ve already gone to the cops. The big gentleman on the left is Mr. Flagg, who works for the Navy. The others are Mr. Jones from the Department of Commerce who’s interested in talking to you about transporting marine mammals against the law, and two police officers, one from the state, the other from the town.”
“You son of a bitch!” Austin snarled.
It wasn’t a nice thing to say; he didn’t even know my mother. But the remark gave me a hint of his mind-set. He wasn’t about to turn his pistol over and go docilely into the good night. He had killed two people and he might want to go out in a blaze of glory, turning the gun on himself after taking me with him. I switched on the cattle prod and poked his arm.
“Yeow!”
The gun went flying. Using the prod like a master swordsman to keep him at bay, I picked it up. Then I went over to the window and waved the boys in.
Chapter 32
Austin was bundled into a cruiser and taken to the police station to make his one phone call. I went to Ben’s office. He was on his cot watching a rerun of “The Fugitive.” I told him I wouldn’t mind a drink. He looked at me through rheumy eyes, nodded with understanding, and gave me a glass and a half bottle of rye whiskey from a desk drawer
I strolled over to the orca stadium, turned on all the pool and bleacher lights, and sat in the approximate center of the bleacher section. I poured myself a couple of fingers of booze. The whiskey went down like double-edged razor blades. I drank it anyway.
I should have been cheering. The bad guys were in the arms of the law, my assignment at Oceanus was over, and I could go catch fish with Sam. But there was an emptiness in the pit of my stomach and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was postpartum blues.
Rocky was swimming around the pool. His dorsal fin, wobbling a little at the tip, cut through the green water in peaceful, hypnotic patterns. With the help of the rye, I soon fell into a half-lidded trance. A voice jarred me back into the real world.
“So this is where you disappeared to,” Flagg said. “Mind if I join you?”
“Naw. Have a seat. I’d offer you a swig, but I know how you feel about firewater.”
“That’s okay, I’m not thirsty.”
For a couple of minutes we watched Rocky’s graceful water ballet.
Flagg broke the silence. “What are you thinking about, man?”
I took a sip. “I’m thinking about Rocky’s ancestors. They crawled out of the sea onto land a few million years ago, then they went back into the sea, and I think I know why. The ocean’s a tough place to live, but it’s not half as dangerous as it is on terra firma.”
Flagg grunted. After a few moments he said, “Old Maushop did it.”
“How’s that?” I said. Maushop was the mythical giant who lived around Flagg’s hometown of Gay Head.
“He dreamed the Europeans were coming. So he changed some of his family into killer whales. That way they could go wherever they wanted to and the white man couldn’t harm them.”
“Hell, that sounds pretty good to me. Just think, Flagg, no cops and robbers, no car-repair bills, no taxman or wars or junk phone calls. Complete freedom from the banes of civilization.”
He gestured toward the whale tank “You call that freedom?”
I thought about it a second. “No,” I said. “Guess Maushop’s children never figured the white man would follow them into the ocean and drag them back onto dry land.”
“It wasn’t all white men,” Flagg said. “Some of my people shipped out on those New Bedford whalers.”
“There’s enough blame to go around. What’s next for you?”
“You know the government. This case’ll give me six months of paperwork. How about you?”
“Got to file a report with the guys who hired me to look into this mess.”
“What are you going to tell them?” He pointed to Rocky. “Your buddy in there a murderer or not?”
“I’m sure Austin killed Eddy Byron. I j
ust can’t prove it. He’ll go to the slammer for Hanley’s murder; that’s one consolation. I guess Rocky will go through life with a question mark over his head.”
Or maybe not.
It was a funny little thought. It winged in out of nowhere, and I grabbed it with a mental butterfly net before it fluttered off.
“Or maybe not,” I whispered. I got up to go.
“You going to be okay?” Flagg said. “I can give you a lift.”
“No thanks. You’ve heard of progressive church suppers? Well, I’m a progressive drunk. The more I drink, the closer I get to home. When I’m too stiff to drive, I’m in my front yard and can crawl to the front door.”
Flagg knew me. A doubtful frown crossed his face.
“I’ll be fine, Flagg. I’m just kidding. Look, I’m even taking the rest of the weed killer in this bottle back to Ben. Stay in touch. And, oh yeah, please turn out the lights when you leave.”
Ben’s office was empty. He was probably making his first and only sober patrol. I left the booze on his desk. The bottle was still at least a quarter full. He’d appreciate that. A few minutes later I was in my pickup, heading toward Hyannis.
The night air was warm and moist at the marina. A light haze lay on the water, but the moon shone down from a cloudless sky. Tomorrow would be a hot day.
Uncle Constantine was on the deck, sitting on a folding aluminum chair and smoking a Lucky. He jumped up from his chair, grabbed me by the wrist, and yanked me on board.
“Kalispera, nephew! I don’t believe this. I look up at the moon and stars, so beautiful, and I say to myself, ‘The only thing I wish is that Aristotle is here, too.’ ”
He went below and returned with a tinkling glass of ouzo. The cold sweet liquor felt good going down my throat and overpowered the foul taste of Ben’s whiskey.
“No backgammon tonight with Mr. Berger?”
“It’s hard for me to play backgammon to lose. Harry is not a good player. Besides, Harry is busy,” he said, slapping his thigh. “He finds a woman at last. Nice real-estate lady from Boston. They go out for dinner. They ask me to come, but I know better. So, Aristotle, how is the little girl, the one we rescue?”
Death in Deep Water Page 31