Take a Dive for Murder

by Millie Mack

  “How did it go?” asked Christopher.

  “Becker really is a pompous…” Charles looked at Christopher and changed his answer to, “Let’s just say he has a big ego. When I told him about the possibility of a ‘bug’ in the vase, he acted like he already knew. However, when he went to the fireplace, he picked up the wrong vase, and I had to redirect him to the right one.”

  “Was there a listening device in it?” asked Carrie.

  “Sure was. It was really tucked in there. Becker had to borrow tweezers from one of the lab boys to get it out. And get this: pushed down on top of the bug was a crumpled tissue. I think Suzanne stuffed the tissue on top, thinking it would cut off the transmission.”

  Carrie looked at Christopher and smiled. “Christopher saw Suzanne stuff that tissue in the vase.”

  “That was very observant of you,” said Charles as he patted him on the shoulder. “Becker wants us to sit tight until he can interview us. And he doesn’t want us discussing the shooting until he questions us. I think I’m going to call Simpson and ask him to come over.”

  When Charles went to the phone to call Simpson, Carrie looked over at Christopher. He had a big smile on his face.

  “See, I knew we shouldn’t talk about the shooting,” he said.

  “But, Christopher, there’s a positive side to our rule-breaking,” Carrie defended. “Because of our discussion, we gave the police a valuable piece of evidence about the bug. And they got this information sooner rather than later.”

  Charles returned and took the chair opposite Christopher and Carrie.

  “Simpson is on his way.”

  “Did the Captain tell you anything else?” asked Christopher.

  “I was able to pry a couple of morsels out of the good captain. He did tell me the doctors didn’t waste any time getting Suzanne into surgery. They are operating now to remove the bullet in order to relieve pressure on her brain. Becker also placed a twenty-four-hour guard on Suzanne, just in case there’s another attempt on her life.”

  Neither Carrie nor Christopher responded to the news. There was nothing they could say. Just like waiting for Becker, they would have to wait for news about Suzanne’s condition.

  Charles continued, “Christopher, you’ll be pleased with this information. While I was in the room, the officer who was checking the neighborhood reported back. He interviewed a man who was walking his dog on the next street. The neighbor said he saw a strange van parked for a long time. Then around the time of the shooting, it left in a hurry.”

  “I knew it,” said Christopher confidently. “I bet they talked to old Mr. Hughes. He and his dog, Jiggles, are always out taking a walk.”

  “One more item: the police also found a walkie-talkie outside the study, over by the oak tree. Becker asked if it was yours, Christopher, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t. I think that’s how the van was communicating with the shooter.”

  “It’s not mine, although it sounds like a neat gift idea. What else did Captain Becker say?” asked Christopher, energized by the conversation.

  “I’m afraid that’s it. Becker is remaining tight-lipped. I only learned about the van and the walkie-talkie because I was in the room when the officer came back.”

  “He just wants us to sit here and wait? I’m bored stiff,” exaggerated Christopher.

  “I may have something that will keep our interest until we get sprung from this room by the coppers.” Carrie directed her comment to Christopher. Then she reached under the back of her sweater and pulled out Jamie’s journal. She saw Charles and Christopher watching her with curiosity. “I learned this from the waiters at the Admiral’s Saloon. They keep their ticket books tucked in the back of their slacks, so their hands are free for serving. I figured this same technique would provide a perfect hiding place for the journal.”

  “You continue to surprise me with the things you learn while wandering around our little town.” Charles moved over to sit next to her and Christopher on the sofa.

  Carrie placed the journal on the coffee table. Then she carefully opened the journal, as if she were handling a rare book. She turned the pages to the final entries.

  “Christopher and I discovered this page, which lists a series of words and thoughts about smuggling.”

  Charles picked the journal up and read the list several times before placing the journal back on the table. “This doesn’t add anything more to what we learned at our meeting today, except maybe this reference to caviar,” he said, pointing his finger at the entry. “It still doesn’t provide us with any names.”

  “I found another item this morning. It’s a poem Jamie wrote, and I believe it might contain a clue.”

  Carrie turned to the poem and handed the journal back to Charles. Charles held the book between himself and Christopher as they read the poem silently. Then Charles read the poem out loud.

  “Sounds like one of my dad’s photographs is a clue. But they were all burned in the fire.” Christopher sounded dejected.

  “Not necessarily. Copies of many of your father’s photographs are also archived at Faraday Press. Based on the poem, we can start a search for group photos with at least five people,” suggested Charles.

  “Your father was also very clever with words, so we should also think about the meaning of the poem. In the meantime, what do you think we should do with the journal?” Carrie asked, looking at Charles.

  “Let’s not share the journal with Becker for now. I want more time to review the poem, and any other entries, before we turn it over to him. Put it back in the hiding place you and Christopher used today. I don’t believe there’s any danger tonight with all the police on site. Plus, you told Suzanne there was nothing incriminating in the journal, for anyone listening,” said Charles.

  “As soon as I get upstairs, I’ll hide it.” Carrie placed the journal back in the waistband of her slacks.

  Then Christopher said, “Hey, Uncle Charles, I want to ask you something else. When you crawled over to Suzanne did she say something?”

  “She was only able to get a few words out, but I heard her clearly. She said, ‘He’s closer than you think.’ However, before she gave me a name, she fell unconscious.”

  Carrie said nothing as she stared in disbelief at Charles. Suzanne said the exact same words Ascot said in her dream. Another strange coincidence?

  Christopher repeated the words out loud and then added, “It sure sounds like it’s someone we know.”

  Before they could create a list of possible suspects Captain Becker entered the room to take their statements. Simpson was right behind him.

  38

  It was a late night by the time Christopher, Carrie, and Charles finished giving their statements to Becker and the police finished their work in the study. Carrie was exhausted and slept late.

  When she went down for breakfast, she learned from Mrs. Cavanaugh that Charles went to the office. She was sure he was starting the search of archived photographs.

  Sleeping late had its advantages because while she was resting, she had an idea. She decided to call Charles at the office and share her plan. After she dialed the number, she wondered if Sandy Waxtrum would put through her call. Carrie was sure Charles received many unwanted calls and solicitations, which Sandy no doubt screened out. When she reached Sandy, she identified herself and asked to speak with Charles. She was prepared to go into further detail about the purpose of her call, but it wasn’t necessary.

  “Oh, yes, how are you, Ms. Kingsford? Please hold I’ll ring Mr. Faraday.” Carrie was sure her heart skipped a beat when she realized Charles must have instructed Sandy that she was a priority call. She decided she liked the idea of being a priority in Charles Faraday’s life.

  “Good morning. What a pleasant surprise!”

  “Speaking of surprises, I can’t believe, after last night, you were up early and off to the office.”

  “I wanted to get started looking for photos. Thousands of them are boxed and stored, not to mention the newer sh
ots housed on digital files. What are you up to this morning?”

  “I was wondering if you’ve heard from Joel.”

  “Not a word, but we’re definitely on the same wavelength. I left another message for him this morning. The person answering the phone initially indicated he was available. Once I identified who I was, suddenly she remembered Joel was in a meeting and not taking calls. It’s pretty clear he’s trying to avoid me.”

  “Today’s airwaves carried a brief story about the shooting,” Carrie said. “You would have thought that news would have generated a phone call from Joel.”

  “Do you think Joel was involved last night?” Charles asked, as if he was struggling with his own answer.

  “No, I don’t, and I also don’t believe Joel was involved with Jamie’s death, but I think he knows something he’s not telling us. Why would he break into the studio unless there was something he wanted? What do you think?”

  “I know for someone who was interested in all the details of this case a few weeks ago, he’s quickly lost interest. Of course, it’s going to be tough to confront him if we can’t talk with him.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I’ve an idea. If he won’t come to us, how about we go to him?”

  “What makes you think if he won’t take my calls, he’ll talk to us in person?”

  “We aren’t going to his office. When Joel and I ate lunch, we ate at the Harbor Net Restaurant. You said he eats at that restaurant almost every day around one o’clock and the restaurant reserves the same table for him. How about if we get there early? We tell the manager we’re Joel’s guests, they seat us at his table, and when he comes in…well, I don’t think he’ll want to make a scene at his favorite restaurant.”

  “And if for some reason he doesn’t show?”

  “Then you and I have lunch together.”

  “Sounds like a win-win situation to me,” said Charles.

  ***

  At twelve-thirty, Carrie and Charles were seated at Joel’s favorite table enjoying a bottle of his favorite white zinfandel wine. On cue at one o’clock, Joel Wheeler was escorted to his table. Apparently the maître d’ never mentioned he had guests waiting because there was no disguising the surprised look on his face when Joel saw Charles and Carrie at the table. His natural inclination was to back away from the table, but the maître d’ blocked his path.

  “Hello, Joel. We got here a little early, so we went ahead and ordered the wine. Hope you don’t mind?”

  Sensing Joel’s panic, Charles stood and shook his hand, keeping a tight grip on his arm. The maître d’ never sensed anything was wrong as he pulled a chair out for Joel. Charles released his grip as Joel took the seat. Assuming a friendly lunch among associates was underway, the maître d’ returned to his position at the front door.

  “You know, Charles, I don’t remember inviting you and Carrie for lunch. I use my lunch time to refresh both my body and my mind, and I would prefer to eat alone,” He emphasized the word alone.

  “Joel, we would have respected your privacy if you had returned any of my phone calls. Since you didn’t call me, we thought this would be a pleasant way to return an item you lost,” Charles said, still smiling.

  Carrie reached into her handbag and placed the pocketknife on the table. Joel reached for it, but Carrie quickly covered it with the palm of her hand. Joel recovered and said, “I only wanted to see if it was mine. That’s a very popular knife. Many people own them.”

  “It’s yours, Joel. Popular or not, most people don’t have their knives engraved with the initials J.W. Secondly, most people wouldn’t have lost their knife while breaking into Jamie’s studio.”

  The same waiter who took their order when Carrie lunched with Joel appeared. “The usual, Mr. Wheeler?” he asked politely.

  “What?” he snapped. “No, I don’t think I want anything today.”

  “Now, Joel, you need to refresh your body and mind. Besides, you’ll just get hungry watching us eat.” Carrie turned to the waiter and said, “I think we’ll have three cups of the New England clam chowder and three crab cake sandwiches on rolls, with sides of slaw.”

  When the waiter received no additional instructions from Joel, he left with the order.

  “Excellent choice, Carrie,” Charles said, taking another sip of wine.

  “You two think you’re cute. Well, I don’t have time for this.”

  “Then let’s cut the nonsense. Joel, in the scuffle with me the other night, your knife dropped out of your pocket.” Charles said. “But if you don’t want to talk with us, perhaps you would prefer telling the police why you broke into Jamie’s studio? I’m sure the police will also ask you about the recent fire at the studio and Suzanne’s shooting last night.”

  Joel had been avoiding eye contact, but now he looked directly at Charles. “What are you talking about? Are you saying Suzanne’s been shot?” Joel was genuinely surprised.

  “It was in the morning papers and on the air this morning about the shooting at our home last night,” confirmed Charles.

  “Honest, I didn’t hear anything about it. I listen to CDs on my ride in and then read the newspaper at the office. But this morning I was working on a brief and didn’t have time to read the paper.”

  “Suzanne was shot just as she was about to reveal the name of my brother’s murderer.”

  “That means that Suzanne was working with…” Joel didn’t finish his sentence, but took the extra wine glass on the table and grabbed the bottle of zinfandel. He filled his glass to the brim and took a large gulp of the wine. “It’s not what you think. I’m not tied in any way to your brother’s murder, and I didn’t know anything about Suzanne being shot.”

  “I noticed you are now saying ‘murder,’” Carrie said. “Before when we met, you tried hard to convince me Jamie’s death was an accident.”

  “That’s because I was worried about you. I didn’t want you poking around the way Jamie was poking around. He hadn’t changed over the years. He would dig and dig until he found something, even if what he discovered had nothing to do with his original story idea.”

  “So, what did my brother find out about you?”

  Joel looked around to make sure no one was listening and then lowered his voice. “All right, but I need your assurance that everything I say stays between us. No cops!”

  Charles and Carrie exchanged a glance.

  “You’ve got my guarantee, providing what you tell us isn’t directly linked to my brother’s death.”

  “It isn’t. What about you, Carrie? Will you agree to keep what I say between us?”

  “Of course, I agree,” she confirmed.

  Joel looked from Charles to Carrie, satisfying himself he had their promises, and then continued. “Jamie was researching a story on the importing and exporting of goods. He contacted me when he returned to the States because he came across my name.”

  “What do you mean he came across your name?” asked Charles.

  “I don’t know the details. Jamie never told me. He simply said he heard my name mentioned in certain circles in relation to exporting items out of Europe.”

  “Joel, I’m going to be brutally honest with you. We know Jamie was working on a story not about the business of importing and exporting, but about smuggling. I think Jamie probably was on the trail of stolen goods and how they arrive in TriCity. I think he heard your name mentioned in relation to stolen goods. What type of importing business are you running?” demanded Carrie?

  “Absolutely not! I don’t smuggle!” Joel started playing with the stem of his wine glass.

  “Joel, we said we would protect you, but only if you’re honest with us,” said Charles sternly.

  “Alright, there have been times when people want to get an item out of a country and they contact a legitimate import/export dealer like me to help them.”

  “Joel, let me see if I understand. These items you help people get in and out of the country aren’t stolen?” asked Carrie in disbelief.


  “Shh, not so loud.” Joel checked again to see if anyone was listening to the conversation. The nearest table was a group of tourists who were thoroughly engrossed in their experience of opening and eating hard-shell crabs. Satisfied no one was paying any attention to them, Joel continued, “Not stolen goods exactly. I’m talking about private collectors who want to get a piece they own out of a country. I helped them get their item packed with a shipment of something else. Look, the majority of my business is the normal importing of items. I’ve helped out with these special deliveries only a couple of times.” Joel took another large gulp of wine. “We are a port city. I do a great deal of legal work for the shipping industry, and these couple of ‘special deals’ can’t become public knowledge, do you understand?”

  Charles ignored Joel’s justification of his business practices and asked, “I assume you’re substituting the word ‘normal’ for the word ‘legal’? So my brother finds out about your little side business and confronts you. You’re worried about the loss of your import business and the possibility of being disbarred, so you...”

  The conversation ceased when the waiter brought their plates of food. Joel refilled his wine glass, and Charles ordered another bottle of zinfandel. When the waiter left, Joel continued. “No, you’re wrong. That’s not the way it was. Jamie also made a deal with me. You remember, Carrie, how Jamie was always making deals?”

  Carrie nodded her head, remembering Jamie’s methods.

  Joel continued. “Jamie promised that if I helped him with some inside information about importing, he would never mention my sideline deals to anyone.”

  “Jamie would have required more of a deal than just some information about importing,” said Carrie.

  Joel briefly stared at Carrie and then smiled. “Yeah, he did. I promised I’d stop any questionable activities in the future. Since these transactions aren’t the majority of my business, it was easy for me to agree.”

  “Now that sounds like a Jamie deal,” Charles said. “He wouldn’t say you were wrong, but he would figure out a way to get you back on the right path.”