Rouse interrupted. “I don’t want anymore postponements. I want to get this trial behind me. I have reconciled myself to the fact that I will spend the rest of my life in prison. A trial will only reinsert hope into my life. I am tired of this roller-coaster ride.”
“As of now, hope, your family, your attorney, and Huck and I are all you have. When four of the five of us are working hard to secure your freedom, you can’t be the one to let go of what is holding us all together. The purpose of my meeting with the judge today was to explain to the court the solid evidence we have obtained to prove that you have been telling the truth. Our efforts have resulted in apprehension of three other members of the assassination team and an eyewitness who has given a statement that the assassins did not match your description. Finally, as we speak, Huck Price is closing in on the one we believe to be Mr. S. In order to bring our investigation to a close, we need more time. That is the very reason why you need to cling to the hope that the judge will grant us a postponement in the trial date. The more time we have, the better your chances are to walk out of here a free man.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Smart, but when I had hope, I was climbing the walls believing that I would be released from this nightmare, if not that day, then tomorrow. When I gave up on hope and accepted my situation, I no longer climbed the walls waiting for something to happen. Rather, I came to accept each day for what it was…just another day.”
“Although I cannot fully understand what you are going through, know that your family, your attorney, and the Price Detective Agency are hopeful that your nightmare will soon end. We will not give up on our hope because we believe you to be innocence of all charges relevant to the assassination of the statesman.”
“Thank you. I will cautiously work to restore my hope that in the end, Lady Justice will correct the balance of the scales whereby I will receive a fair and just trial.”
Cedric leaned over and patted Rouse’s cuffed hand. “Stay strong and believe in those who believe in you. You will be kept informed. And should we be granted a postponement to your trial date, view that as an indicator that the judges have some doubt as to your guilt.”
Cedric then stood up. “Guard, I am ready to leave.”
Chapter 52
For the last twenty minutes, Huck had been studying the Harris mansion. Although it reminded many of Tara with its stately columns, it brought to his mind the view of Mount Vernon from the Potomac River. The primary difference was the open verandas on each side of the house at the second-story level.
The major deterrent to the house was the spiked, black wrought-iron security fence that enclosed the property. The fence was ten feet high, with security cameras mounted at twenty-foot intervals. The entrance gate also had security cameras on each side. The gate appeared to open electronically from inside the house. Huck could see what appeared to be an intercom mounted on the left side of the gate. Near the intercom box was a parked motorbike.
Just as Huck began to think that there was no evidence of any life on the property, especially given that the first-level windows had closed shutters, a man in a white T-shirt, jogging pants, and tennis shoes exited the front door. He was carrying a bag much like the one Huck took to the gym for his workouts. There was writing above the shirt’s left front pocket, but even with binoculars, Huck could not make out the words.
As the man approached the entrance gate, a door within the gate swung opened. This indicated that someone was watching the man’s departure from inside the house and had opened the gate for him. The man, who was drenching wet, secured his gym bag on the rear of the motorbike, swung his leg across the seat, and sat down. The writing on the back of his shirt was large enough to be seen, as was the picture below the writing. It read “Rocky’s Gym,” and the picture was of a muscular man lifting a barbell. She has her own personal trainer, thought Huck. I wonder when he arrived? He concluded that he would need to arrive earlier tomorrow morning if he was going to learn her daily routine.
As the day wore on into midafternoon, Huck figured that the personal trainer must be her only visitor for the day. He would locate Rocky’s Gym and try to get some information from the trainer. Huck then noticed that there appeared to be someone on the veranda on the left side of the house. He shifted his sitting position and focused his binoculars on the figure.
Huck zoomed the binoculars to their maximum to achieve the closest view possible. At first he could see only the back of the person as they walked away from him. The image appeared to be a woman with long brown hair. When she turned to the left, her profile confirmed that the person was either a woman or a man who had been taking heavy doses of estrogen. The person was constantly blowing smoke from the cigarette she had in her mouth.
When she reached as far as she could walk in her current direction, she again turned to the left and continued to walk. Huck could now get a better view of her face, and when she made the next left turn, she would be walking directly toward him.
As she did so, Huck pulled out the passport picture of Harris and thought, I’ve got you now, Ms. Harris. You must wear a man’s wig when you are Alphabet Man because to grow hair that long would probably take years.
One of Harris’s most striking physical attributes were her muscular shoulders on a thin body. She reminded Huck of Olympian women swimmers or of women tennis players at Wimbledon. Huck could see how, with a tight bra and her hair covered, she could easily assume the appearance of a man. He could also now better understand why she preferred a personal trainer at her house rather than going to the gym, where her physique would draw a lot of attention. The last thing she would want was attention.
After about ten laps around the veranda, puffing like a coal-burning freight train, she reentered her house. Huck decided to suspend his surveillance for the day. He had confirmed that she was at home. He got on his scooter and proceeded to the public information booth located in the center of the village. He wanted to get the directions to Rocky’s Gym.
At the visitor’s booth on the main square, Huck confirmed that Avalon had only two physical fitness gyms. According to the information guide, Rocky’s Gym was the newest and was located only a few blocks farther south. There would be a sign at the intersection pointing toward the gym.
On the scooter, it took Huck just a matter of minutes to arrive at the gym. There was a large sign above the door identifying that he was at the right place.
Inside the door was a life-size cutout of Sylvester Stallone wearing only boxing shorts and shoes. On the back wall, in larger letters, was a sign with the words Rocky’s Gym. In front of the sign was a receptionist’s desk. Behind the desk was a man who was probably in his midtwenties and who had a physique that replicated that of the cutout of Stallone.
As Huck stood assessing the gym, the young man said, “Sir, can I help you with something?”
Huck snapped his gaze back in the direction of young man. “Yes. I’m interested in what you may have in the way of a personal trainer for a morning appointment time.”
The man offered Huck a compliment. “Sir, you appear to be in pretty good condition. I don’t know how much a personal trainer could help you.”
“Thank you. I do my best.” Patting his stomach and sides, Huck said, “A recent back strain has slowed me up, so I need assistance strengthening my back and toning my midsection.”
“Any of our trainers could help you in that area. We have five personal trainers but most have clients in the mornings. Walk with me to the back and we’ll take a look at their agenda boards.”
When Huck and the receptionist passed through the heavy soundproof doors, Huck found himself in a typical fitness gym. There were men and women working out on stationary bikes and treadmills, lifting weights, and doing chin-ups and leg-stretching exercises. The sounds were that of weights dropping to the matted floor, groaning, and heavy breathing. Everyone was covered in dripping perspiration.
The receptionist led Huck to a wall where five weekly schedules were posted. At the top of each schedule was the name of the trainer. Across the top of the schedule were the days of the week. Along the left side were the times of the day, ranging from 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Huck quickly scanned the morning schedules of each trainer. Under each daily block and the corresponding time was written the name of the trainee. He soon focused on the trainer named Larson.
Larson’s weekly calendar showed the name Harris written in from 9:00 to 11:00 a.m. on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Today was Tuesday. However, Larson had the name Murray written in for Wednesday. All the personal trainers were booked for morning sessions. A couple had afternoon sessions available.
Finally, Huck said, “I don’t see anything in the afternoons that will correspond with my work schedule. I was sort of hoping to get Larson because I had heard he was one of the best in the gym. That seems to be evident by the fact that his schedule is full every day, all day.”
“Larson is good, but from my perspective, he is about the same as the others. Sometimes the distinction is created by word-of-mouth advertising. Many of our longtime residents like Larson and have mentioned his name to other clients.”
Huck interpreted this remark to mean that Larson worked only with those of a more aristocratic status.
Huck closed the conversation. “Thank you for showing me your current personal trainer schedule. I’m going to check the other gym on the island to see if they have any morning trainers available.”
“If you strike out there, please come back to see us, and I will be glad to place your name on our waiting list. As of now, it takes about six weeks to get a personal trainer.”
As Huck exited through the large soundproof door, he jokingly said, “Maybe I need to change occupations.”
The receptionist laughed. “Good luck.”
Returning to his scooter, Huck thought, I wonder what Harris does on Wednesday mornings.
On Wednesday morning at 8:00 a.m., Huck had his scooter parked in the edge of the woods. He was dressed in a jogging suit and sitting at one of the picnic tables. In the event that Harris were to look in his direction, he wanted to give the impression that he was a jogger either preparing for or just returning from his morning run.
Approximately twenty minutes later, he saw Harris walk out to the same veranda where he had seen her on the previous day. Again she was walking the perimeter of the veranda, smoking away like a freight train. When she finally made the turn to where he could see her face, he noted that she appeared to be in deep thought. She looked to be wearing a loose-fitting white robe. Within the next ten minutes, he realized how mistaken he was about the robe.
At eight thirty, a different motorbike arrived. The man wore what appeared, from Huck’s distance, to be white pajamas with a black belt tied around his waist. Looking through the binoculars, Huck saw that on the back of the pajamas were two black images of men engaged in combat. One was kicking out and the other was defending himself. Above the fighting men was printed in bold black letters the word “Karate.”
Huck thought, Harris must be one tough chick. She has a physical fitness trainer three days a week and apparently a black-belt karate instructor at least one day a week.
By now the man had spoken something into the black box beside the gate. The gate inside the bigger gate opened and he walked through. He was also carrying a gym bag.
Two hours later, the man, an Asian, exited the house, returned to his bike, strapped his gym bag to the back, and rode away.
While the man was in the house, Huck had walked to the nearest relief station beside the jogging track with his gym bag. There he changed from his jogging suit into Bermuda shorts and a flowery Hawaiian-looking shirt. He walked back to the picnic table, spread his lunch, and took up his surveillance of Tara.
Around midafternoon, Huck saw the big gates to the residence swing open. A yellow Volkswagen convertible, with the top down, exited the estate. Behind the steering wheel was an attractive woman with dark-brown hair wearing a large sun hat and large round sunglasses. In Huck’s opinion, it was none other than Harris.
When Harris was a couple of hundred yards down the road and headed in the direction of Avalon, Huck jumped on his scooter and puttered onto the road behind her. He had no problem keeping tabs on the Volkswagen, since the speed limit down the mountain was 30 mph and Harris seemed to be careful to maintain the posted speed limit.
Upon arrival in Avalon, Harris parked in the first available parking place. Because she took no evasive measures, Huck was confident that she was not aware that she was being followed.
Huck had no difficulty parking his scooter, as most were given designated parking areas. Harris, wearing the large floppy hat, was not difficult to follow. The streets and sidewalks were full of laughing and fun-loving tourists. Huck could have easily worn only a T-shirt, swimsuit, and flip-flops and blended in with the crowd. Because Harris was walking slowly and weaving her way though the throng of people, Huck made a quick trip to where she had parked her Volkswagen. Peering in from the top, he could see nothing of interest except an ashtray full of cigarette butts. All appeared to have been smoked down to the filter.
Huck easily picked up his tail on Harris, who was at least six feet tall, which made her easy to spot in her floppy hat. She appeared to be taller than most of the others walking the street. Suddenly she made a turn into one of the shops.
Because of the crowd, Huck had to get to the front of the shop before he could see that she had entered a pharmacy.
Almost before Huck could get into a position where she would not notice him, she exited the store carrying a small paper bag. She must have had a prescription to pick up, thought Huck.
Harris then crossed the busy street in much the same manner that she had strolled along the sidewalk. As she passed between cars, she turned her head and glared at the drivers as if to say, “I have the right of way here, so you can just wait your turn.”
Harris then entered a women’s apparel shop. Huck took up a position in front of a large window that slanted inward from the street. Here he could appear to be looking inside the shop while using its window as a mirror to see when Harris exited.
Huck’s wait was a little longer this time, but eventually Harris left and began making her way back to her car, carrying a shopping bag. Huck resumed his tail.
When she reached her car, she popped the trunk, pitched her bags in, closed the lid, confirmed that it was locked, and crossed the street to the sidewalk that followed the curvature of the bay. In a couple of hundred yards, she entered a seafood restaurant.
Huck looked at his watch and figured that she was either having a late lunch or an early dinner. Not far away was a bench under some trees. Huck ambled over to it and took a seat. He would remain there until she left.
An hour and a half later, Harris left the restaurant and headed directly to her car. When Huck saw her get into the Volkswagen, he mounted his scooter. He followed her only long enough to convince himself that she was returning home. He made his way back to his hotel. He had decided that after her 9:00 a.m. personal trainer departed, which would be around eleven o’clock, he would then make his appearance.
Chapter 53
When Huck was satisfied that Harris had gone home for the evening, he returned to his hotel room to refresh up and change into trousers and a more conservative, solid-colored shirt. When that was accomplished, he decided he would try out the restaurant where Harris had eaten.
Once Huck was seated, a young man who introduced himself as Wyatt said he would be Huck’s waiter and asked what Huck would like to drink. Huck identified Wyatt to be a conversationalist. He was the type who, if you were either in a hurry or looking forward to a quiet evening dinner with a loved one, you hoped not to get. But this evening, Huck was in neither category.
When the waiter returned with the water Huck had orde
red, he asked, “Wyatt, are you a native of Catalina?” That was all Wyatt needed to start the flow of conversation.
“Oh yes. I was born on the island. I’m a junior at San Jose State. I try to get back here every weekend and I spend my summers here.” Laughingly, he added, “I guess I’ll die here, but the way the island is growing now, there might not be enough room to bury me here.”
Huck gave a light chuckle to Wyatt’s attempt at humor. “I guess you probably know all the permanent folks who live on the island.”
“Oh yes, sir. Are you ready to order?”
“What would you recommend?”
“The Catalina buffalo steak a la shrimp with herbs.”
Huck looked at its listing on the menu. This boy is no dummy, he thought. That’s the most expensive item on the menu, which will make for a larger tip.
“Is this locally raised buffalo?”
“Yes, sir. We have a lot of buffalo on the island, which was started by the Wrigley family. To control the size of the herd, a few are slaughtered and sold to the local restaurants. It’s only on Catalina, and only at certain times of the year, that you can actually eat Catalina-raised buffalo. None is ever exported.”
“Then I must try it, since I don’t know if I will ever have this window of opportunity again.”
“The vegetables are small boiled potatoes with asparagus.”
“Excellent.”
Wyatt hurried away to put in Huck’s order to the chef but returned shortly thereafter to refill Huck’s water glass. Huck took the opportunity to engage Wyatt in a little more conversation.
“Wyatt, earlier today I was seated across the street and saw a very attractive, tall woman with brown hair and wearing a floppy hat come in. She was alone. Do you know anything about her?”
A Price for Balancing the Scales Page 27