Move to Strike

by Perri O'shaughnessy

  Paul pictured the small plane, the two people inside, gliding through the night.

  “Just for an example, say Bailey entered a banked attitude slowly, too slowly to arouse the motion sensors in the inner ear. He corrects quickly. That gives him the illusion that he’s banking in the opposite direction. We call that ‘the leans.’ Then he rolls the plane back into its original dangerous position or may lean in the perceived vertical plane.”

  The two men in Paul’s mind rocked back and forth. “Witnesses did not report anything of that nature happening before the crash,” he said.

  “Or there’s the graveyard spin. If a pilot’s spinning and recovers properly, he may suddenly feel that he’s spinning in the opposite direction, so he returns to his original spin.”

  The picture returned to level. “Ditto. There was no spin.”

  Davis ignored him. “Then there’s the false horizon . . .”

  “It was a clear night.”

  “But it was night. A tricky time to be in the air, actually. Then there is autokinesis . . .”

  By now, Davis had to know Paul was no innocent in these matters, but he went on anyway. “Then there’s the inversion illusion, where a sudden change from climbing to straight and level flight creates an impression that the aircraft is falling backward. The pilot pushes into a nose-low attitude, which increases the illusion and causes an accident.” He waited for Paul’s refutation, and gave a satisfied grunt when none came.

  “There’s the elevator illusion, where an updraft causes abrupt upward vertical acceleration. Again, the pilot goes nose low . . . Anyway, you get the idea. There are a number of possibilities.”

  “Possibilities.”

  But in the tradition of all storytellers, Davis had saved the punch line.

  “What happened in this case, I would speculate, is something called a somatogravic illusion. If a pilot reduces the throttles quickly, the plane decelerates rapidly. The pilot’s disoriented, and he pushes the aircraft into a nose-up attitude. That causes a stall.”

  The face at the window turned toward the pilot, mouth open in a silent scream. The pilot never took his hands from the controls as the plane swooped down, soundless as a bird in flight until the last instant. Annihilation.

  Davis shrugged. “It could happen to the most skilled pilot. He had logged thousands of flight hours. But sometimes our instincts are too compelling to ignore.”

  “Speculation, like you said,” Paul said.

  Davis said, “It sounds to me as though you’re looking for some other cause, Mr. van Wagoner. Is there an insurance connection?”

  “No,” Paul said.

  “What, precisely, is your interest in this case?”

  “It may be connected to a murder in South Lake Tahoe.”

  “You mean the passenger’s father? You have some evidence of a connection?”

  “Not yet,” Paul admitted. “That’s why I’m here. Look, Mr. Davis. I’ve been looking into situations like this for many years, logging my own flight hours. I know there’s a connection.”

  Davis had lost interest. “Well, if and when you have something hard, let me know,” he said. “We’ve seen hundreds of these accidents. We do not reach conclusions without confirmation in the form of witness statements, documentation of the physical state of the plane, and collateral proofs.”

  And the old process of elimination. That piles and piles of scut work appeared to support that position, Paul did not doubt. So that would be their explanation, henceforth writ in stone, if Davis had anything to say about it. “Are you personally convinced that’s what happened?” Paul said. “If Skip Bailey was, say, your father, would that explanation satisfy you?”

  “We interviewed witnesses who saw the plane gliding before landing, indicating that the engine was not engaged. And then, of course, you must remember this pilot was implicated in another near incident some years ago.”

  “Let me get this straight. Your office has reached the conclusion that Bailey went down because, in spite of twenty years of experience, he made a novice’s error in judgment.”

  “Our final report will be some time in coming, of course . . .”

  Yes, they had those months of paper to generate, sign, and copy a dozen times before dead filing.

  “. . . But yes, I believe that’s a fair prediction of our analysis.” Davis stood up and stuck out his hand.

  Paul shook the dry, steady hand. “Oh. One more thing,” he said on his way out the door, and Davis looked up with an expression of long-suffering patience. “Just to satisfy Mrs. Bailey and the lawyer in the Zack case. Could save us all a lot of trouble. I’d like to have a peek at the plane.”

  “Not during the investigation.”

  “But your investigation won’t be concluded for a year. It could avert a lawsuit. Let me help you out with the relatives. You know?”

  “Well, maybe I could arrange something,” Davis said.

  CHAPTER 20

  “SHE’S CLEANING A friend’s house,” Nikki told Nina. “Forty bucks for four hours.” She sat in a puddle of morning sun on the porch steps wearing cutoffs and a buttoned-up brown shirt that hung like a burlap bag. Her elbows rested on her knees, and her chin rested on her hands. It was eight-thirty in the morning. “What now?”

  “Didn’t your mother tell you?”

  “We don’t talk to each other. We coexist. I want a peanut butter sandwich, she hands me the bread. She wants to watch a soap opera and gives me a couple of bucks, I let her.”

  Nikki could be funny. Realizing that an invitation into the house would not be forthcoming, Nina leaned against the railing. The street was quiet, all the neighbors scratching out a living somewhere. She wondered if Nikki was keeping up with the independent study she was supposed to be doing since she couldn’t go to school, but she decided not to ask. She didn’t want to get involved in anything unessential to her case, and she had a painful topic to discuss today.

  How to bring this up? She took a deep breath and decided she might as well just come out with it. “I came to talk to you about your mother. She came to my office yesterday and said she was at the house the night your uncle was killed.”

  “Really? I’m not surprised. Why are you? She was full of shit when you met her, and she’s bursting by now.”

  It was a nice lying job for a sixteen-year-old. Nikki actually didn’t seem surprised. Her blasé manner made Nina very suspicious.

  “So you don’t know anything about that?”

  “No.”

  “I want to remind you about something before I ask you again. When you confessed to the police that you were there that night, you thought the worst that could happen to you would be a stint in a juvenile facility. I’ve told you that’s not true. You watch cop dramas on TV?”

  “Sometimes,” she said grudgingly.

  “Ever seen a prison scene?”

  She tsked impatiently. “Of course.”

  Nina leaned down and spoke very softly. “It’s really like that, Nikki. People behind bars. Shouting . . . the noise is incredible. No privacy, and constant monitoring. Nowhere to go, nobody to see, nothing to do. Just you and a couple of roommates you will not like, fear, and loneliness.”

  “But I’m not going to prison,” Nikki said, shifting her pose. She put hands down and made a triangle on the step with her body at the center of it, as if trying to firm up her position. Nina could see fear moving around inside her like the flecks of gold in her eyes. “I didn’t do anything but take the rocks, and they’re ours.”

  It can’t happen to me. Nina remembered the salve of that belief. A few deaths of people you loved taught you differently. “I told you before, there are no sure things in law. I’ll do my best. What I want from you is the truth.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ve kept things from me. The opals . . .”

  “I didn’t know they were valuable!” All cool departed. “I didn’t know they were important. They’re freaking rocks!”

  “Tell me
what happened that night. I mean everything. Include what you know about your mother.”

  “I don’t know anything about my mother. What do you mean?”

  “Then just tell me about that night.”

  “I’m sick of talking about it,” she said, but reconsidered. “Oh, okay. Let’s return to that windy night in May, when the stars were bright and Nik went out hunting in her little boat . . .”

  The basic story remained the same, although a few new details emerged. Nina made notes, unsure what might be important at this point.

  “It’s major cold and windy, a cruddy night to go out. I’m paddling in a kayak we have from one of my mom’s former lovers, I can’t remember which. I don’t want to make any noise . . . mega hassle.

  “When I get there, I pull the boat behind a bush. See lights on a wall next to the pool. He’s got a gate, of course. Doesn’t want anyone in that pool except him and maybe when he’s feeling generous, his wife and son.”

  “You were never in the pool before?” asked Nina. “You never saw the hiding place before?”

  “I was in the pool before but for some reason he never pointed out his stash to me. Anyway, by luck, the gate is unlocked, so I slip inside. That’s when he blows out from his study with the bottle in his hand. Boom! Stark naked! I have just enough time to dive bomb behind a bush.”

  Nikki described again how Sykes dove in and how she ran for the study.

  “What were you looking for?”

  “Nothing special. Anything useful. Papers? Information about our land? Something that would hurt him?”

  “Money?” Nina said.

  “Maybe. Why don’t we ask the parole counselor guy who keeps track of me? Maybe he’s scoped me out. I’m too deep into my own headset rap to say.”

  “How did you get the idea to go there in the first place?”

  “My ex-friend Scott. Scott Cabano. Well, you saw him that day after court.”

  “The one with the shaved head that they picked up for stealing from the houses on the lake.”

  “Yeah. He used to always talk about how lakeside people never lock anything on that side of the house.”

  Nina said, “Did you know Scott has been arrested again? They revoked his bail.”

  “No! So that’s why—he wouldn’t leave me alone otherwise. Will he get out again?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s eighteen. I hear from a friend in the public defender’s office that he’s going to plead guilty to a single burglary charge and wants to stay in jail so he can get out earlier. He’s looking at almost another year in County.”

  “Good,” Nikki said, her brown eyes showing naked relief. “I lucked out there.”

  “Nikki, what did he say to you that day after court?”

  “The usual garbage. How he was going to get me if I didn’t give him his share of what I took from Uncle Bill’s house. He came here a while back saying he figured out I had taken something. He wanted a share. He almost beat me up that day. I think he wanted to.”

  “When was this?”

  “Couple of weeks ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It was my business.”

  “He threatened you?”

  “I handled it.”

  The truculent pride reminded Nina so much of herself in youth. Innocence made her brave. “You’re only sixteen. You don’t have to handle things like this yourself. You act as though . . .”

  “Don’t criticize me.”

  “I’m not . . .”

  “Like hell.”

  “Take it easy, Nikki,” Nina said, adding a rough edge to her voice she would never use with Bob, but that Nikki needed.

  “Hey,” Nikki said, “you started it.” But this was said in a conciliatory tone so Nina forged on, wondering what else Nikki hadn’t told her.

  “I was wondering, could Scott have been the guy in the woods? No, wait,” Nina said, reconsidering. “He was arrested before that. It couldn’t have been him.”

  Nikki said, “I guess not. I was hoping it was him. Well, it’s really clear the decks day. I’m going to tell you something else you don’t know. The night Bob came over to dig up the rocks, a man called me. He had a funny way of talking, like he was from England or something, and his nose was all stopped up. It didn’t sound real. I thought it might be Scott at first, or somebody trying to disguise his voice. Somehow this guy knew I had the rocks. He wanted me to give them to him, and he threatened me too. So it must have been him in the woods.”

  Nina held her hand up. “Wait,” she said. “I just don’t understand this. Why didn’t you tell me about Scott and the man who called you before? I could have done something to protect you. That must have scared you, no matter what you say. Did you tell your mother about all this?”

  “No,” Nikki said. “I can protect myself.” She bit her lip.

  “Why are you so afraid of letting adults help you?” Nina asked, trying to keep her voice gentle because the girl would react strongly to any authoritarian manner.

  “They have their own problems.”

  “What about me?”

  “I’m telling you all this, aren’t I? Even though you’re Bob’s mom and you must really hate me for dragging him into it.”

  Nina shook her head and said, “I was angry about that. But it doesn’t change our relationship.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m your lawyer. I’m not quite sure how to make you understand what that means.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “That I help you in spite of my problems. I help you if you lie to me, are rude to me, if I don’t like you, and I help you even when you don’t want help.” She reached over to touch Nikki’s thin shoulder. “It’s a sacred trust,” she said.

  “First one I ever had of those,” Nikki said, but a smile sneaked around her mouth. “Sounds awesome.”

  “It is. Now let’s get back to it, all right? I want to go back to your uncle. He had dropped the phone and fallen to the floor.” Nina was trying to understand this.

  “Crying. Kind of moaning.”

  “From something he heard on the phone.” Could someone have called him to tell him that his son’s plane was down? But who would know that? Could Beth have called him with some bad news? Or Dylan Brett? “Think hard, Nikki. Did anything at all that he said on the phone give you an idea who was on the other line?”

  Nikki was shaking her head. “Just, he was friendly and laughing and happy, then he was having a fit. Really strange. I should have left, but I just kept my eyes glued to him. Then . . .”

  Nina waited.

  “The doorbell rang. And he went to answer it.” She paused. “And that’s when I finally took off.”

  “You didn’t wait to see who arrived.”

  Again, there was the merest hesitation. “No.” Such a tiny hesitation, gossamer, nothing to hang your hat on.

  Nina let it go. If she had seen Daria then, she wasn’t going to admit it. That would mean Daria had gone there when Sykes was still alive . . . and probably was the one who killed him. “You had taken the rocks and run almost to the beach, then come back to get your sweatshirt, and that’s when you saw all this.”

  “Right.”

  “And you grabbed your sweatshirt?”

  Nikki’s eyes widened.

  “You forgot all about it until this moment, didn’t you?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Your mom took it,” Nina said. “She was there, and she saw it by the pool hanging on a bush, and she took it home and washed it.”

  “Now I get it. I should have known. That’s what all this was leading up to. Daria.”

  “The doorbell rang, and someone came into the study with your Uncle Bill.”

  “Someone sure did. But I wasn’t there anymore, and I didn’t see anything.” Nikki closed her eyes and leaned back against a post, trying to look relaxed. Nina didn’t say anything, and after a minute her eyes opened again. “Ding-dong, you’re dead. But it wasn’t
Daria. She’s just pulling one of her stupid moves to try to help.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t your mother, if you didn’t see anything?”

  “I just know!”

  “Listen, Nikki,” Nina said. “The neighbor saw your mother’s car parked on the street. Your mother admits it. She was there.”

  Nikki’s face convulsed. “Leave me alone! And leave my mother alone!”

  “Did you see her? Tell me!”

  “No!” She started to jump up, but Nina had taken her arm.

  “All right, Nikki. Your mother says that Dr. Sykes was already dead when she got there. But I had to know if you had seen something different.”

  “You should have told me that right away!” Nikki cried, throwing off Nina’s hand. “You tried to trick me!”

  “Sorry, Nikki. C’mon, calm down. I’m sorry I had to do that. Sit back down.”

  “ ‘Trust me,’ ” Nikki said, and laughed, not a happy laugh. She stood on the porch looking down the street. “That’s what you said. What a joke. Don’t even try to ask me any more questions. And besides, I’ve got to split. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment this morning.”

  “You have permission to leave?”

  “I called my guardian angel. He gave me three hours. Okay? I’m going to be late. Where’s Daria? I told her I needed a ride. I can’t be late . . .”

  “Let me give you a lift.”

  “No more questions. I am completely done with you pushing stuff on me.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll get my bag.” She returned almost immediately with a tattered backpack covered with slogans about shark finning and saving Tibet.

  “What’s in there?” Nina asked lightly, as they drove away. “The kitchen sink?”

  “Schoolbooks for the waiting room,” said Nikki promptly.

  “Let’s see. Open it up.”

  “Jawohl, Adolf.” She opened it up and Nina saw schoolbooks.

  “Are you ill? Is that why you’re going to the doctor?”

  “I said no questions!”

  Nina pulled over. “Sorry, the deal’s off.”

  “You broke the deal! Asking questions!”