He gets no response and finds it strange, so he places his stuff on the couch and heads out back. As he walks toward the French doors, he sees that the pool is uncovered and thinks it odd, but figures Kenneth probably had a party while he was out of town and didn’t get someone to cover it again before they left.
“Kenneth?” he calls, as he starts out of the house onto the back deck. Something doesn’t look quite right, and he realizes he can see some of the blue bubble wrap is still in the pool. He gets closer to the edge of the pool and more bubble wrap becomes apparent, as does the implication behind what he’s seeing.
Rushing to the edge, he is horrified to see a body entangled in the cover, resting on the bottom of the pool. Running back inside the house, he yells again for Kenneth, then he grabs his cell phone off the kitchen counter and dials 911.
The operator immediately dispatches both paramedics and police to his home then asks, “Sir, do you know who is in the pool?”
“No, but I’m jumping in right now to get whoever it is to the surface and shallow end on the stairs,” Mike replies.
Before the operator can respond that he shouldn’t disturb the scene, she hears a splash. “Mr. Prichard, please respond,” says the dispatcher, and continues trying to get Mike to respond. Suddenly, the operator hears Mike scream.
“Oh, no! Oh, God, no!” Mike cries as he drags Kenneth’s body to the stairs. He checks for a pulse but finds none, and attempts to drag Kenneth out of the water onto the patio but is unable to because of all the weight.
Mike hears a noise and jerks his gaze from Kenneth’s body to see paramedics rushing to help him. As they haul Kenneth’s lifeless body out of the water, one of them tells Mike to tell the operator they have started CPR and will be transporting Kenneth to the hospital. Mike numbly does as he’s told, and the operator tells him the police are now arriving.
“Mr. Prichard, you’ll need to provide the police with some information later on. As of right now, please give us your information and the name of the person you found in your pool.”
Mike begins giving information to the dispatcher, but is interrupted.
“Please speak with the officers on scene, sir. They’ll take it from here.”
“Oh, sorry. Thanks,” Mike says, and hangs up the phone.
He watches helplessly as the paramedics attempt to get a pulse. One of them shakes his head, and gestures for another to use the Automated External Defibrillator, but they get no response. They load Kenneth onto a gurney and prepare to transport Kenneth to the hospital.
“Wait, can I ride with him?” Mike asks, grabbing one of the paramedic’s arms.
“No, sir, I’m sorry,” replies the paramedic, who looks at the officer and briefly shakes his head.
The officer picks up on the cue. “Sir, I will drive you to the hospital. There just isn’t enough room in the ambulance while the paramedics are working on Kenneth. Why don’t you change into some dry clothes and we’ll be right behind the ambulance, okay?”
Mike nods and rushes inside as the officer and paramedic share a look, privately understanding the outcome at the hospital.
While Mike is changing the second officer who has been taking photographs all along continues documenting the backyard and sketching the scene, but wraps up in time to leave with the other officer and Mike. When they arrive at the hospital, the nurse escorts them to a private office where the patrol officers begin getting a statement from Mike.
“You are under no obligation to answer any of my questions, Mr. Prichard. Do you mind covering the basics?” the officer asks.
“No, go ahead,” Mike replies, pacing the floor.
“Okay, then. When did you find Kenneth in the pool?”
“I arrived home from L.A. at about seven o’clock, dropped my bags in the living room, and walked outside, expecting to find Kenneth doing something in the backyard. When I saw someone in the pool I immediately grabbed my cell phone and called 911. As soon as I knew help was on the way, I jumped into the pool and tried to drag him out of the water. It wasn’t until then that I realized it was Kenneth. I got him to the steps and, and tried to get him out of the water but—” He pauses, obviously struggling with reliving the moment, then clears his throat. “I wasn’t able to because there was too much weight. About the time I realized I couldn’t get him onto the patio the paramedics got there and helped me get him out of the water.”
“You said you dropped your bags?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, it’s all blurring together. I left Wednesday morning and spent Wednesday night and all day Thursday in L.A. I stayed at the Ritz Carleton on West Olympic Boulevard. I had two business meetings to attend; one Wednesday and the other Thursday.”
“What type of meetings? What do you do?”
“I’m self-employed. I write screenplays, and I was pitching my latest work to two different producers on those days.”
“So you stayed in L.A. rather than driving back and forth?” the officer asks, making a note on his handheld pad.
“Yes, the meeting on Wednesday was for dinner, and the one on Thursday was an early morning breakfast.”
“I see. Are you and Kenneth living together, and is he your partner?”
“Yes, on both counts.”
“How long have you been living together?”
“We’ve been together for almost a year and he moved into my house about four months ago.”
“How would you describe your relationship?”
“It’s good. We’re going through the normal adjustments when two people start living together, you know, normal stuff.”
The officer raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Well, for instance, Kenneth is deathly afraid of water and doesn’t know how to swim. I love the pool and use it all the time. He wanted me to fill it with soil and landscape, and I refused. But since he is so irrational about the pool, I got the cheap bubble wrap cover so he wouldn’t be so nervous about it.”
“So Kenneth is afraid of the pool?”
“Yes, that’s why I can’t understand how he got in it,” Mike says, looking extremely perplexed.
“What do you mean?”
“He was completely irrational about it. Like he thought it would grab him and pull him in. He usually stayed at least two feet away from the side of it, so I just can’t imagine or understand why he would have gotten close enough to fall into it.”
The officer nods. “Mr. Prichard, I’m going to need to ask you some very personal questions, and I apologize if they seem rude or insensitive, but they need to be asked and answered.”
“I understand. Go ahead.”
“Does Kenneth drink or do drugs of any type?”
“He drinks alcohol, but doesn’t use drugs.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Really? He’s my lover, and we have been together for nearly a year. We have been living together for four months. I think I would know if he did any type of drug. Besides I would never be with anyone doing drugs. I’ve seen many talented friends ruin their lives with a combination of drugs and excessive alcohol consumption.”
The interview is interrupted when Doctor Montgomery, the attending emergency room physician, knocks on the door then enters the room.
He makes brief eye contact with the patrol officer, then turns to Mike. “Mr. Quan was just pronounced dead on arrival. I’m sorry, Mr. Prichard, we did everything we could. Can we call anyone for you? Do you know Mr. Quan’s next of kin?”
Mike looks stunned and sits down heavily in one of the office chairs. Realization dawns on his face, and he begins to sob burying his face in his hands for several moments before he takes a few deep breaths and looks up at Dr. Montgomery. “He has a brother in town, but I’ll call him myself.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” the doctor says.
“Thank you,” Mike replies, his voice thick. He turns to the officer. “Can you take me home after I say good bye to Kenneth?”
“Yes, of course. I’
ll be right there with you.”
Dr. Montgomery tells Mike, “Once the nurses have the room cleaned up and safe they will come and get you.”
Mike nods mutely.
Shortly after the doctor leaves, a nurse appears and walks Mike in to view Kenneth. When he is done saying his good-byes, he turns and tells the patrolman he is ready to go home.
As he gets into the patrol car, Mike asks, “What should I expect next?”
“Well, since this was an unattended death, additional investigation will need to be done. There will be an autopsy, and by the time I get you back to the house there will be two detectives there who will probably want to speak with you. They will ask for access to Kenneth’s records and belongings.”
“What if I say no? I see no reason to do so, I’m just curious.”
“Then they will probably get a search warrant for his personal records.”
Mike nods. “Well, that won’t be necessary. They can search anything they want to.”
“This is all just standard protocol in situations like these,” the officer says.
“I understand.”
After that, there is very little said during drive back to the house, and the car is quiet except for the occasional radio traffic between dispatch and the patrolman. When they arrive, Mike is introduced to San Diego Police Detectives Preston Adams and Beau Rogers. Mike is surprised to see Beau Rogers, whom he recognizes immediately as an inspiring actor who had been to at least one audition Mike assisted with for one of his screenplays.
Beau is in his mid-to-late thirties with a rugged complexion and a perfectionist complex. Nothing is out of place in his appearance, and not even the hair on his head lacks symmetry. Preston Adams, by contrast, must be in his early fifties, slightly overweight and, set against Detective Rogers, has the juxtaposed appearance of a slob with a wrinkled and stained shirt. Detective Rogers takes the lead since he has had prior contact with Mike.
“Mr. Prichard, we’re here as a matter of protocol to investigate the death of Mr. Quan. We’ve already been thoroughly briefed by the patrolman and will try not to repeat any of his questions,” Rodgers begins.
“I understand, Detectives. Thank you for your empathy but it’s okay. Ask me anything you need to know. I want to help everyone understand what happened, especially me.”
Beau replies, “Thank you. We understand you were out of town and you found Mr. Quan in the pool about seven o’clock tonight.”
“That’s correct. Please, call him Kenneth.”
“Okay, I can do that. Would it be possible for us to examine Kenneth’s room and cell phone?”
“Yes, of course. Kenneth was my partner, so we shared the master bedroom. His personal belongings are on and in the nightstand on the right side of the bed, and mine are on the left. Kenneth’s clothing is all on the right side of the closet, mine are on the left and, you have probably guessed, he has the right side of the bathroom sink and medicine cabinet.”
“Do you mind if we go search his personal belongings?” Beau asks.
“Not at all. Do you need anything else from me?”
“Not at this point, but we may have some additional questions after we are finished.”
“No problem. I’m going to make myself a drink. Would either of you gentlemen like a coke, bottle of water, or coffee?”
Both detectives politely decline and walk into the bedroom to begin their search. Kenneth’s cell phone is on the nightstand, and Detective Adams jots down the telephone numbers Kenneth called or received calls from beginning Wednesday morning through today, then photographs the phone.
In the drawer of the nightstand, Detective Adams finds the business card of Wendy Stevens with a Friday appointment scheduled for eleven o’clock. He shows the card to Beau.
“Isn’t this the same counselor who was at the hospital with that Davis woman whose husband wacked off to porn, then blew himself away with the shotgun a while back?”
Beau thinks for a moment. “Yeah, I think you’re right. She was the domestic violence counselor, right?”
Preston nods. “Don’t let me forget to talk to Mr. Prichard about this in more detail.”
When they finish searching the bedroom they walk back out into the living room to speak with Mike.
Detective Adams sits down and asks, “How was your relationship with Kenneth going?”
Mike looks a bit perplexed. “It was fine. Why?”
“Was Kenneth seeing a domestic violence counselor by the name of Wendy Stevens?”
“No, I saw her on Tuesday and have an appointment to see her tomorrow at eleven. How did you know about her?”
“I found her card in the drawer of Kenneth’s nightstand, and I have to admit I’m curious why, if things were fine in your relationship, it would be necessary for either one of you to be seeing a domestic violence counselor?”
“Well, apparently he must have been snooping through my personal belongings while I was out of town. How rude. Anyway, I had asked several people I knew about finding a good domestic violence counselor and was referred to Ms. Stevens.”
“Again, why was it necessary to seek out a domestic violence counselor if everything was fine in your relationship with Kenneth?” Detective Adams presses.
Mike lets out a sigh. “About a month ago Kenneth and I had some issues that reached farther than just adjustment to living together,” he says, and summarizes what he had told Wendy a few days before. “After that happened, I made an appointment with Ms. Stevens to ask for her advice.”
“Why is there a call from Kenneth’s cell phone to Ms. Stevens on Wednesday morning?”
“I have absolutely no idea. Perhaps that question is best directed to Ms. Stevens.”
“So he made a connection to a counselor you claim to have been seeing, and now he is suddenly found dead in the pool you say he was deathly afraid of getting near?”
Mike glances up at Adam sharply. “Detectives, am I under arrest?”
“No, sir, you are not. We’re just having a discussion.”
“Well, I don’t like the tone this conversation has taken so I think you both need to leave now while I call my attorney.”
“May we take Kenneth’s cell phone?”
“No, you may not. Don’t you need a warrant or something?”
“That is probably the cleanest way of handling it if you won’t let us take the phone.”
Mike sniffs. “Then I suggest you go get one.”
“We’ll do that. I must advise you not to alter the phone in anyway because that might be considered tampering with evidence.”
“I’m not going to touch it. It will be in the drawer of Kenneth’s nightstand when you come back with your warrant. Good evening, gentlemen. I’m sure you can find your way out.”
Detective Rodgers represses a sigh. “Very well, Mr. Prichard. We will be in touch.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” Mike replies, tossing back the rest of his drink as the detectives leave him.
CHAPTER 9
WHAT MISUNDERSTANDING?
Wendy walks into her office Friday morning at nine o’clock to find Detectives Adams and Rogers seated in her waiting room with fresh coffee.
She looks surprised, but greets them. “Hello, Detectives. I need to get myself some coffee, but you’re free to move into my office and have a seat.”
After retrieving her coffee, she walks in, sits down behind her desk, and asks, “How can I help you today?”
Detective Adams clears his throat. “Do you know Kenneth Quan?”
“No, I don’t know him. Why?”
“Because your card was found in his bedroom nightstand.”
She gives him a confused, mildly amused look. “So, do you investigate everyone who has one of my cards in their nightstand?”
He raises his eyebrow. “Only when they’re dead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that about Mr. Quan, but I fail to see how it’s my concern.”
“Can you explain why Mr. Quan teleph
oned this office on Wednesday morning?” Adams asks.
“As a matter of fact I can,” Wendy replies, but stops.
Adams waits for a moment, then says sassily, “I’m listening.”
“Well isn’t there a follow-up question?” Wendy retorts with equal amounts of sass.
Adams stares at her for a moment with his mouth hanging open, then sighs and shakes his head. “Ms. Stevens, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“You can do it whatever way you wish.”
“Why are you being so difficult with us?”
“I didn’t realize I was being difficult, detective. I’ve answered every question you’ve asked me and, I’m sorry, but I don’t particularly like cops. From my perspective too many of you are dishonest.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I’ll try to be more specific. Why did Mr. Quan call you Wednesday morning?”
She grins at him. “Very good detective. Mr. Quan telephoned my office around eleven, told me I didn’t know him, that he was one of my clients’ partners, and wanted me to stop by the house and introduce myself to him so he could decide if he would allow my client to continue to see me. I told him I couldn’t speak with him without my client’s authorization. The man, who identified himself as Kenneth Quan, then told me not to expect my client to make his eleven o’clock appointment today.”
“I see. What else did he say?”
“Nothing that I recall.”
“Are you sure?”
She thinks for a moment. “Well, he did say something about his cat missing and killing the dog that was harassing the cat if he didn’t find it soon. Wait, no, my mistake. He very charmingly said he was going to kill the fucking dog that was harassing it.”
“Anything else?”
“No. Why?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m just making sure there isn’t any misunderstanding here, like we’ve had previously.”
“I’m sorry, did I miss part of this conversation? What misunderstanding do we have?” Wendy asks innocently.
Unrestrained Behavior: The Pleasure and Risk of Choice (The 'Un'missable Series Book 3) Page 8