Crash Tack

by A. J. Stewart

  “To know that you don’t think he did it,” I said. “We got that. But he’s still in jail.”

  “And I’m sorry about that. But the motive has to be investigated. ”

  I didn’t say anything more. I just frowned, which gave Deputy Castle a front row seat to the furrows in my brow that were deep enough to sow potatoes. When you spend every possible opportunity from age seven to present outside, playing football, or later baseball, and later still enjoying the sun in Florida, you end up with a tan and wrinkles. My uncontrolled blond hair might have gotten darker as I got older had I taken an office job in Stamford or New York City, but I didn’t, so the sun had kept it as fair as it was as a toddler. Deputy Castle didn’t look at my hair, though, keeping her gaze on my eyes. I’m not sure what she saw there, but it made her speak.

  “Look, you’ll find this out tomorrow when Ron is interviewed, but you didn’t hear it from me. We discovered that Ron’s wife was having an affair.”

  “Ron’s wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “An affair?”

  “Yes.”

  “With whom?”

  “With Will Colfax.”

  I glanced at Lenny but he was hiding behind his beer. I looked back at the deputy.

  “There’s one little problem,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Ron isn’t married.”

  Deputy Castle hid her surprise well. I wasn’t sure if that was something that law enforcement types trained for, or if law enforcement just attracted the kinds of people who naturally hid themselves well. But her face gave nothing away. It was her eyes that sold her out. Her pupils shrunk and her eyes moistened, and I saw the uncertainty in them .

  “We do have a source that claims to be his wife, and another source that corroborates that fact.”

  “Who’s the source, the one that claims to be his wife?”

  Deputy Castle hesitated, but again I guess she figured we’d find out in the morning, and we had no way to notify Ron while he was in the pen.

  “You can’t go harassing witnesses in an investigation, okay?”

  “The thought never occurred,” I said. I thought about adding a grin, but something felt wrong about it, so I didn’t.

  “Her name is Amanda Bennett.”

  I leaned back in my chair, picked up my beer and took a long pull on it, all while keeping my eyes on the deputy.

  “You know her,” said Deputy Castle.

  I nodded slowly, and glanced at Lenny.

  “She’s not Ron’s wife,” said Lenny. “Divorce papers were served about four months ago.”

  Danielle took this in, and frowned. “Not sure that makes it better. If it can be shown that the divorce was a result of the affair.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Lenny.

  “Are you sure, Lenny?”

  “Totally. Ron and Mandy didn’t work because . . . well, let’s just say Mandy hitched her wagon to the wrong train.”

  We finished our drinks and Lenny made to get another round, but Deputy Castle stood.

  “I need to get home. Thanks for the drink.”

  Lenny nodded and turned away to the bar. The deputy looked down at me.

  “You driving?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am. My bike’s in the shop. I’ll get a ride.”

  “All right then. I’ll be seeing you. ”

  “Thanks for letting us know. About Ron I mean.”

  She didn’t answer. She just shot me another smile and strode away. I didn’t watch her go. My back was to the exit, and the picture I had in my mind was more than good enough. I must have been smiling when Lenny returned, because he was standing at the table, watching me.

  “What?” I frowned as he passed me a beer.

  “That was different,” he said, sitting.

  “What?”

  “Getting a visit from a deputy.”

  “Why was that different?”

  Lenny took a long drink. “In all my years I’ve never had a deputy stop by after hours to update me on a case.”

  “This isn’t a case—this is a friend.”

  “Never had a visit to update on anything, friend or otherwise.”

  “Never?”

  “Not once.”

  “Huh. What do you make of that then?”

  Lenny gave me a sheepish smile and a deep shrug, then leaned back in his chair and put his beer glass to his mouth.

  Chapter Seven

  MANDY BENNETT HAD taken up residence in a three-thousand-square-foot, four-bedroom home in a gated community on the edge of Lake Mangonia, across from the President Country Club. Although Deputy Castle had suggested we not harass their witness, we felt an early morning visit to the ex-wife of our good friend was well in order. Lenny pulled his truck into the paved driveway next to an Audi convertible. Divorce was clearly hard work for Mandy. We walked down a palm-lined path to a set of double doors that look like they had been pilfered from a Scottish castle. There was a huge iron knocker in the middle of each door, and I was reaching for one when Lenny hit the little plastic button to the side and the doorbell chimed take me out to the ballgame . I felt embarrassed for the door.

  We waited for a good long moment before one of the doors opened with a sucking sound like on a refrigerator and Mandy Bennett stood before us. She had tied-back blond hair, thin in the legs and arms but not the chest. She was a good ten years younger than Ron, but she worked hard and passed for fifteen years less and dressed like she was twenty years his junior. She was in some kind of yoga gear, gray tights and a pink shirt, and I wasn’t sure if she was mid-workout or if she just hung out like that.

  “Lenny, Miami, what a surprise.”

  “Hi, Mandy,” I said. It wasn’t that much of a surprise given we were checked in by the guard at the gate of the community.

  “How’s Ron? I heard one of his crew was missing. Did they find him?”

  “That’s why we’re here,” said Lenny. “Can we come in?”

  “I was just headed out, but sure.”

  We followed her into a large great room with high ceilings and a stellar view across the lake. All the furniture looked new and the art on the walls looked mass-produced.

  “A rental, Mandy?” I asked.

  “Yes, Miami. I’m still finding my feet.”

  I should be so lucky, I thought.

  “Can I offer you boys a drink?”

  She didn’t mean apple juice and I saw Lenny giving it some thought.

  “No, thanks, Mandy. It’s a bit early,” I said, replying for both of us. We sat on flat leather sofas that looked like upholstered coffee tables and were just as comfortable.

  “So, you were going to tell me about Ron,” said Mandy.

  I nodded. “Yes. I’m not sure how to put this. He’s in jail.”

  “What!” Mandy’s mouth dropped open in a most unbecoming way, and I noted that her eyes moistened up, but no tears came. “H-how?” she stammered. “Why?”

  “We’re not completely sure, and we hoped you might be able to shed some light on it.”

  “Me?”

  “The sheriff told us that they had a motive for the disappearance for the guy lost at sea. And they said that motive was you.”

  Again Mandy looked shocked, such that lines appeared on her smooth forehead for but a second, then the years of moisturizer and spa treatments kicked in and it all smoothed over, in a way that made me oddly envious. She took a breath that raised her chest but didn’t seem sufficient, yet it appeared to help her gather herself.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Some sheriff’s detectives came and spoke to you yesterday.”

  Mandy looked hard at the glass coffee table between us, as if thinking, maybe recounting events the previous day. “I still don’t see how that puts Ron in jail.”

  “You were in a relationship with the man that went missing, Will Colfax,” I said.

  Mandy did the little breath thing again, and then spoke to the coffee table. “Yes.
But . . .” A sheen of moisture covered Mandy’s eyes as she showed as much emotion as she ever really did. I just wasn’t sure whether the emotion was for Ron or Will Colfax.

  “The sheriff believes that your relationship gives Ron a motive to kill Will Colfax.”

  “That’s crazy—Ron wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Everyone agreed on that point, except the people keeping Ron in prison. Lenny leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “Mandy, did you tell the sheriff’s investigators you were Ron’s wife?”

  “I don’t know if I did or I didn’t.”

  Lenny cocked his head. “Mandy, did you tell them you were Ron’s wife?”

  Mandy lifted her gaze to Lenny and jutted her chin defiantly. “So what if I did, Lenny. I was married to the man. So what if I don’t want to appear like soiled goods.”

  “You’re certainly not soiled goods,” I said. I was referring to her situation, nice house, nice car, not short of a dollar and not working as far as I had heard, but she seemed to take it as a comment on her physical appearance because she gave me a cutesy smile and the pretense of a blush.

  “Mandy,” said Lenny, drawing her attention back to him. “Were you involved with this man before your divorce?”

  “What kind of a question is that, Lenny?”

  “It’s the question the detectives are asking Ron as we speak. If you were having an affair prior to your divorce, then they will argue that the affair wasn’t a by-product of the divorce but rather the reason for it. And that’s a big motive.”

  “No, Lenny. I was not having an affair when I was with Ron. I never did the wrong thing by Ron.”

  I was going to make a comment about that, but decided to hold my powder. Mandy had met Ron at the yacht club, and as many women did, had fallen for his gentlemanly charms. I didn’t get it myself. Ron was a good-looking fellow in a sunburned, windblown kind of way. He had a few skin cancers removed here and there, which seemed to add to his allure, and women of all ages were drawn to him. Mandy, however, made a fateful miscalculation in her estimation of Ron’s net worth. Ron did quite well for himself, working in banking and insurance, eventually ending up in fraud detection, where he pored over company accounts and sniffed out financial shenanigans. He had an apartment on the island, not waterfront but on the island nevertheless, and drove a very nice C-class Mercedes. He was a member of the Palm Beach Yacht Club and the Palm Beach Country Club, and was known by name at the bastion of all that was monied and good in Palm Beach, The Breakers Hotel. Mandy saw a fish worth catching, and Ron was happy and willing to take the bait. What Mandy failed to realize was that it was by and large a charade. Ron’s memberships were paid for by his insurance firm, not only to provide the pretense of a mover and shaker, but also because much of the fraud they discovered was committed by rich folks hitting hard times and was uncovered not by forensic analysis of balance sheets but rather by loose tongues at the bar. When Ron fell victim to the stress of being the mole in the bunker and retired, the company-supplied memberships and cars went with it. It was at this point that Mandy was left with the reality of living in a small apartment with limited income, a used Camry for transport and no access to the ritzy clubs to which she was looking forward to growing accustomed. The divorce was more like a dissolution of a failing business, and there were no public spats or harsh words. Ron sent his bride on her way with a good chunk of his limited funds, selling his apartment and moving onto the mainland. And Mandy, it seemed, set off in pursuit of a better standard of husband.

  “Mandy,” I said. “How did the sheriff know about your aff—, your relationship with Colfax?”

  “I don’t know. Probably that witch of a wife.”

  “He was married?”

  She pursed her lips at me. “Don’t judge me, Miami.”

  “No judgment, Mandy. I just didn’t know.”

  “Yes, well, he was. But it was a sham. He wanted to be with me.”

  “Indeed,” I said.

  Lenny stood and brushed out his chinos. I followed suit, not bothering to brush out my cargo shorts. Mandy showed us to the door and thanked us for visiting.

  “If the sheriff asks again, please tell them that the divorce was amicable and you weren’t in a relationship at the time,” Lenny said.

  “I will, Lenny. Please tell Ron I’m thinking of him.”

  “Will do. ”

  We left Mandy and got back in Lenny’s truck. Lenny pulled out and away, and then spoke.

  “Thoughts?” he asked. He had a habit of asking me questions to get my deductive juices flowing.

  “She does care about Ron, say what you will.”

  “I always thought so.”

  “Can’t say the same about Colfax.”

  “How so?” Lenny asked as we crossed the channel between Lake Mangonia and Clear Lake.

  “She looked pretty shaken by the news about Ron being in jail, and granted she had a night to process it, but she didn’t seem so moved about Colfax.”

  “No, she didn’t. What do you make of that?”

  “She’s cold. I knew the way she discarded Ron there was a touch of ruthlessness there, but I always thought she was a nice person, underneath. But the Coast Guard has only just given up the search, and she’s moved on. Did you note the way she referred to him in the past tense.”

  “You did as well.”

  “I wasn’t smooching the guy.”

  “True. So?”

  “So if she’s telling it like it is, then she was done with Ron before hooking up with Colfax and that hurts the motive.”

  “As long as she’s telling the truth,” he said, turning onto Route 1.

  “Exactly. If needs be we could talk to the wife, Mrs. Colfax.”

  “If needs be,” said Lenny. “First let’s find out what’s happening to Ron.”

  Chapter Eight

  LENNY PARKED IN the open lot next to our new building and we went up the stairs to the new office. The contractor was there, putting the finishing touches to the place. They had put up an internal wall to create a small second inner office, giving Ron and me somewhere to hang our hats. Fact was we didn’t spend a lot of time behind desks, and most of our debriefs happened at Longboard Kelly’s, but the extra office was Lenny’s nod to the fact that his firm was now much more than just him. We left the contractor to his business and headed further up the stairs to see Allen.

  Lenny knocked on the door and we stepped in to find a young woman dressed in a knee-length skirt and long-sleeved blouse watering a potted banana palm. The little tree didn’t look happy about being indoors, but the woman gave us a warm smile.

  “Mr. Cox,” she said, walking to her desk, picking up her phone and letting Allen know we were there. She didn’t put the phone down before telling us to go in.

  “Gents,” said Allen as we opened the door. “Come in, take a seat. ”

  “How’d it go?” asked Lenny as he dropped into a chair in front of Allen’s polished desk.

  “In short Lenny, it’s a play. They don’t have a lot, and they’re fishing.”

  “So you’re saying there’s nothing to worry about?”

  “I’m not saying that. Sometimes when you go fishing, you catch a fish. Here’s where it stands. The skipper of the yacht, a Mr. Colfax, went overboard about one-third of the way between Bimini and Fort Lauderdale. The weather was fine and the ocean was flat. This is all according to the sheriff, of course. We would dispute this with data from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.”

  “What if the data says the ocean was smooth?” I asked.

  “One man’s ripple is another man’s wave. Anyway, their point is that it is unlikely Mr. Colfax just fell off the boat. So they claim that Ron’s wife was having an affair with Mr. Colfax, and that Ron took the opportunity to dispose of Mr. Colfax by pushing him into the Atlantic Ocean. Now Ron at this stage has only answered questions directly related to events on board. He says he was asleep at the time of the incident because he was not on wa
tch. The sheriff has obviously checked the fact about being on watch because they do not contest it. The individuals who were on watch . . .” Allen leaned forward to look at his notes. “Ms. Felicity Havill and Mr. Alec Meechan.” He leaned back in his chair. “Both claim to also have been asleep. Why they were asleep, we do not know, as yet. But the sheriff claims that Ms. Havill was the last to see Mr. Colfax alive and well on deck.”

  Allen took a moment to look at the ceiling and collect his thoughts. It was a long pause, and I looked at Lenny and he at me, wondering if Allen had lost his train of thought. Or maybe this was how he padded out his billable hours. Either way he came back to us and continued.

  “Now, in conference just between us, Ron confirms that he is no longer married to the woman in question, a . . .” Allen leaned forward to look at his notes again.

  “Mandy,” I said.

  “Yes, that’s right. He also claims no knowledge of the affair at any stage. He claims he and Mr. Colfax were friends. Not particularly close, but friendly around the club.”

  “Sure, but how does any of this help Ron get out?”

  “Well, it doesn’t, I’m afraid. At the conclusion of the interview the sheriff placed Ron under formal arrest. They can keep Ron under arrest without arraignment for twenty-four hours, and they can apply for additional time from a judge, and given this is a murder investigation they will probably get it. So that puts us out to tomorrow morning at best. If they get more time, maybe we’re looking at another couple of days. At that point, they either play their cards or release him.”

  “And if they release him, is that the end of it?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid not. They can and will investigate further, and at such time as they have enough evidence, they can arrest again at any time.”

  “What about the body?” asked Lenny. “How can they charge him without a body? Technically the guy could still be floating out there.”

  “It makes it difficult for them, but far from impossible. Once upon a time a person could not be found guilty of murder without a body. There was a case back in England in the sixteen hundreds, the Campton Wonder case, where three individuals were convicted of murder without a body and duly hanged, and then the murdered fellow promptly reappeared. The law was changed as a result. But with advances in forensic technology and so on, the laws have changed and even of recent times defendants have been found guilty on the basis of forensic and circumstantial evidence. The burden of proof is high though, so the SA and the sheriff will need something quite compelling to prove their case.”