Ocean Blues

by Glen Ebisch

  “Too bad. Well, you’ll be going back to the cells until your arraignment, so you’ll have some time to think about it.”

  Looking defeated, Denise was led away by the officer. Lieutenant Baker glanced at the mirror and shrugged.

  Andrew sighed. “Unless the police can find proof that Dave wasn’t at the bar when Sam was being killed, this isn’t going to help us much.”

  Clarissa put her hand to her head. The annoying itch from her stiches had been replaced by a pounding headache.

  “Are you okay?” Ashley asked. “Maybe you should go back to the hospital.”

  “I’m okay. I’m just frustrated. I thought we had solved both crimes and gotten Tyler off the hook.”

  “I’m not a seasoned investigator,” Andrew said, “but it looked to me that Dave was truly startled to be accused of killing Sam.”

  The door opened and the Lieutenant and Rudinski walked in. Suddenly the room felt crowded, which did nothing to help Clarissa’s headache.

  “I’ll grill the folks who were at the bar that night,” Baker said, “but my instincts tell me that Connors was telling the truth. And so was Lambson. They were running an opportunistic scam, but I don’t think they’re killers.”

  “I think I’d like to go back to the parsonage now,” Clarissa said, feeling slightly faint.

  “Are you okay?” the Lieutenant asked.

  Clarissa smiled faintly. “I guess everything is just starting to catch up with me.”

  “I can take you home,” Rudinski volunteered.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Andrew said quickly. “I brought Ashley, so I can take them both back to the church.”

  Rudinski gave him a meaningful look but said nothing.

  Ashley, Clarissa and Andrew were in the car heading back to the parsonage, when Andrew spoke. “I’m going to line up a criminal attorney today to take over Tyler’s case. I don’t think we’ve got much of a chance of clearing him in the next ten days. It seems that all our avenues of inquiry have turned into dead ends.”

  Clarissa nodded, hardly able to think.

  “I think we should all take a day to rest and process things. By tomorrow we’ll have some new ideas,” Ashley said.

  Both Clarissa and Andrew glanced at her, surprised at her suddenly mature tone.

  “What? You don’t think I can say smart stuff, too,” she exclaimed when she saw their expressions. “We’re wrecks right now, but give us a day and we’ll come back like gangbusters.”

  Clarissa smiled. “I hope so,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Once they arrived back at the parsonage, Clarissa had given Ashley the rest of the day off, and announced that she was going to go have a long nap. When she walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Gunn jumped up from the kitchen table.

  “When I got that call from Officer Rudinski this morning, I was so worried about you. He said you were all right, but wouldn’t say what had happened. I thought it was some kind of automobile accident.”

  “No, I just bumped my head,” Clarissa said, pointing to the bandage. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

  “Have you had any breakfast?”

  “I really don’t feel like eating now. I’m going to go upstairs and get some sleep.”

  She ignored Mrs. Gunn’s look of concern mixed with curiosity, and left the kitchen. She went up to her bedroom, got out of her clothes, which smelled of the hospital, and threw them in the clothes hamper. Clarissa then got into her warmest flannel pajamas, and crawled into bed. She had been afraid that having been under so much stress for the last twenty-four hours, she might not be able to get to sleep. But almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out.

  Clarissa awoke completely disoriented, not sure where she was or what was the time of day. For a moment, she was afraid that her head injury had been more serious than the doctors thought. But gradually, she recognized the furniture in her bedroom and could tell by the angle of the sun that it was late afternoon. She got dressed in jeans and a sweater, and slowly made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. A sandwich was on the table with a note from Mrs. Gunn hoping that she’d had a good nap and felt better. Checking in the refrigerator, she saw that there was also a rice casserole prepared for dinner. Deciding the casserole could be eaten the next day, she sat at the table and started to eat the ham and cheese on rye. Although she had doubted at first that she had enough appetite to eat even half a sandwich, a few minutes later she was surprised to find that the plate was empty.

  Making herself a cup of tea, she sat and wondered what she would do with the rest of the day. The Ship Wreck Inn mystery appeared to be solved. She was sure the police would question both the suspects again and have them sign statements. Probably the Lieutenant would even question Ed Schyler to see if he knew about his nephew’s plan. But it seemed that Sylvia’s troubles were over, and she would soon be back in business better than ever, now that she knew her inn housed a fortune in antiques.

  What about Tyler? Clarissa’s mind refused to get into gear to begin analyzing that problem. After a few minutes, she realized that there was no point in attempting to go further in that direction. She was still upset that the solution to the ghost problem had not led to a suspect in Sam’s murder. Until her disappointment began to fade, no new ideas would start to come, and her mind would continue to turn in circles. She needed some distance from the problem.

  Finally she decided that the best thing to do was turn to the job for which she was being paid, and she walked over to the office to work on her sermon for the week. As she sat in her office and looked at the notes she had made earlier in the week, Clarissa could barely resurrect her train of thought. The topic was Care That We Owe to Ourselves. The idea had come to her from listening to so many members of her congregation who had the responsibility of caring for others, either elderly members of the family or the sick and infirm. Many of them were so focused on their responsibility for others that they never took time to look after themselves. Ironically, this often led to their being less capable as caregivers. She wanted to hammer home the idea that we have a responsibility to take care of ourselves, and it isn’t selfish to balance our needs against those of other people. After a few moments, she regained her train of thought and the words began to flow again. Two hours later, she stopped working and got up and stretched her back. Her first draft was complete. Sometime later in the week she’d recite it out loud to herself and make minor changes, but she was generally happy with what she had accomplished.

  The clock on the wall said it was nine o’clock, but to Clarissa it felt like midnight. She locked up the office and headed back to the parsonage. She locked the kitchen door behind her, and went upstairs to her bedroom. Climbing into bed, she began to read a mystery novel from the library. But before she reached the first murder, her eyes began to close, so she turned out the bedside lamp and was quickly asleep.

  *****

  Clarissa opened her eyes and saw the sunlight just starting to peek above the horizon. She did a tentative inventory of her body and decided that she felt pretty good. There were a few aches and pains as a result of her encounter with Denise Lambson’s body block, but basically everything seemed to be working fine. She sat on the edge of her bed and found that she was well rested and reasonably ready to face the day. After a hot shower, she put on her business attire and went downstairs. There she stunned Mrs. Gunn into speechlessness by actually agreeing to have two eggs and toast rather than only one. While she ate, Mrs. Gunn peppered her with questions about how she had been injured. Since Lieutenant Baker had given her permission to talk about the events of that night, she answered her housekeeper’s questions fully.

  “My word,” Mrs. Gunn exclaimed when Clarissa was done. “If you read that in a novel, you’d never believe it. And who’d have thought all that junk in Sylvia’s inn was worth a fortune. That will certainly get all the other folks in town dragging stuff down from their attics to get it appraised.” Her face turned sombe
r. “But are you really all right? It sounds like you seriously bumped your head.”

  “I think I’m well on the road to recovery, although I did need to get my rest yesterday. But mostly I’m worried about Tyler. When I saw that Dave was the ghost, I hoped there would be a link to Sam’s death.”

  “So poor Tyler is no better off than he was.”

  Clarissa shook her head. “Andrew thinks it’s time to get him a criminal lawyer because he’s going to be standing trial, and there’s a lot of circumstantial evidence against him.”

  “But he didn’t do it, so there’s got to be some way of finding out who did.”

  “Let’s hope we can do it in time.”

  Clarissa walked over to the church office. Ashley was already there, back in her Goth attire. She looked up quickly as Clarissa came in.

  “How’re you doing, Boss?”

  “Much better today. I slept most of yesterday, and I think I needed it. I see you’ve decided to go back to your original look.”

  Ashley nodded. “People at the church kind of expect it. But I still plan to switch back and forth. I kind of enjoyed being Sonia Smythe, upbeat blond.”

  “Have you heard anything more from Lieutenant Baker?”

  “Nope.”

  “I guess that means Dave and Denise’s stories check out.”

  “So no hope for Tyler there.”

  “I have to admit I’m getting pretty discouraged.”

  “If God is for us, who can be against us?” a voice announced from the back of the room, making Clarissa jump.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Clarissa said to Ashley.

  “Yeah. It’s Paul. My aunt had to go out today, and she wanted me to keep him company.”

  “That was better than his usual quotation. In fact, under the circumstances, it’s even rather uplifting.”

  “Whatever you do, do it with all your heart,” the bird said.

  “Much improved,” Clarissa said.

  “It’s a work in progress,” Ashley replied.

  “Bad company ruins good morals,” Paul intoned.

  “Sometimes he reverts.”

  Clarissa laughed. “I was wondering if you’d had a chance yet to look into Tony Cryer, Sam’s father.”

  “Sure did. You were right, he did die of a drug overdose, and Sam did find him dead in his car. But there’s more to the story. At the time of his death, he was awaiting trial for drug possession, and when he was arrested, he had his son in the car with him.”

  Clarissa shook her head. “Quite a father. But I guess I can see why the boy would be so hostile to drug dealers.”

  Clarissa filled Ashley in on what she and Andrew had learned from Sam’s guidance counselor.

  “He must have had a lot of enemies at school if he was working as a snitch for the cops,” Ashley said.

  “True. But why would they wait until the next year to get even? No, I think it had something to do with the Slipped Anchor Bar. Someone there could have been involved in the drug trade and found out that Sam was going to turn him in to the police. I think I should call Lieutenant Baker. He talked to the guidance counselor before we did, but he might not have taken it as seriously. I’d also like to know why the Lieutenant never told us about Sam’s involvement with the police in apprehending drug users in his school.”

  Clarissa went into her office and called the police department. After a brief delay, she got through to Lieutenant Baker.

  “Are you feeling better today, Pastor?” the Lieutenant asked.

  “Much better, thank you. When we talked to Sam’s guidance counselor the other day, she said that Sam was working with the police department to uncover drug users and dealers in the school. I was wondering why we were never told about that?”

  “Yeah. Andrew Corrigan was down here two days ago angry as blazes about the same thing. I looked into it, and I’ll tell you what I told him. I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t know. Sergeant Rampell, who heads up the drug squad, had made a personal contact with Sam, and he never informed the rest of the department.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he knew that the Chief would never allow him to use an underage student as a school informant. Once this came out, after we talked to the guidance counselor, Rampell was assigned to administrative duties pending an investigation, and I ordered him to let Andrew know about Sam’s involvement in exposing drug users. But he didn’t obey orders. I guess he thought that if the public didn’t know, the department would be willing to hush it up and let him off the hook. Just between us, all he accomplished is that he dug himself into an even deeper hole.”

  “I’ve been thinking. Maybe Sam carried over his same nose for investigation to the Slipped Anchor Bar, and found out that something was going on over there.”

  “I’ll lean on Rampell to tell me if Sam ever contacted him about the place. Also I’ll check with the other members of the drug squad to find out if they’ve heard any rumors about drug deals going down there. Maybe something will turn up. And by the way, I also told Andrew that I checked into this Cory Malone kid who got in trouble as a result of Sam’s informing. He’s in an out of state residential school, and they have a strict lockdown policy. I guess he’d been in trouble before, and his parents took a hard line. So he wasn’t in town the night that Sam was murdered.”

  After thanking him, Clarissa picked up her notes for tomorrow night’s church board meeting, and took them out to Ashley. “Could you type these up for me and make twenty copies? They’re for tomorrow night’s meeting?”

  “Will do, Boss. Did you get the answers you wanted from the Lieutenant?”

  Clarissa told her what Baker had said.

  “Sounds like someone messed up big time within the department. Knowing that Sam Cryer was playing junior narc has got to help Tyler’s case.”

  “But it would be a lot better if we could name a particular individual who had it in for the boy.”

  “Well, he seemed to indicate to the guidance counselor that it was someone from outside the school, so I’d say you were on the right track telling the police to take a hard look at the Slipped Anchor.”

  “I suppose. But I’ve got a feeling that I’m missing something.”

  “The best thing to do when you feel that way is to think about something else. If you try to force yourself to remember, you’ll never be able to dredge it up.”

  “I’m going to be spending the afternoon doing hospital visits. That should keep me focused on problems other than my own.”

  Clarissa went back into her office, and began to set up her schedule of hospital visits. Although it might have to be revised if someone wasn’t available because of tests or treatment, she always liked to establish an order to her visits based on what she knew about the patients. Some people would be happy with a quick fifteen-minute visit, while others demanded considerably more time. So she always set it up so that those needing less time came first, and those who were more needy came at the end. She had just finalized her list when the phone rang.

  “Hi, Clarissa,” Tyler said.

  “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “I thought I was doing better when Andrew called and told me about the arrests made at The Ship Wreck Inn. It sounded like there might be a connection to Sam’s death. But Andrew says that he’s not so sure.”

  “The police are giving the bar where he worked a close look to see if anything drug related was going on. If something is found, it might provide a motive for someone else to have killed the boy.”

  “You mentioned last time that you were going to urge the police to look hard for a drug connection to anybody Sam came in contact with during his normal life. Did you do that?”

  “Well, it apparently isn’t someone from his school, and we’re looking at the place where he worked. Do you have any other ideas?”

  Tyler sighed. “No, I guess not.”

  “I had a bit of research done on Tony Cryer, Sam’s father. Apparently he was arrested for
possession and the boy was with him at the time,” Clarissa said.

  “That’s terrible, but how does it help us?”

  “I’m not sure, but somehow I think it should be looked into more closely. Maybe I’ll ask Lieutenant Baker to dig into the case and see what he can find out.”

  “Andrew has set up an appointment for me to meet with a criminal attorney this afternoon. I guess he’s giving up on me,” Tyler said mournfully.

  “I’m sure it’s not that. But if your case goes to trial, wouldn’t you want someone who’s handled lots of these cases before?”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” Tyler sighed. “This has been one long nightmare. I keep hoping that one morning I’ll wake up and discover that it was just a dream.”

  “Don’t worry, Tyler, we’re going to get you out of this, and someday it will seem like nothing but a bad dream.”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Let me know how things go with the criminal attorney.”

  “I will.”

  After she hung up, Clarissa heard the front door open, and Officer Rudinski’s voice. She walked out to the front office where the officer and Ashley were staring hostilely at each other.

  “Is there a problem?” Clarissa asked.

  “I asked Ms. Reynolds to return police property that was loaned to her and she refused.”

  Clarissa gave Ashley a quizzical glance.

  “I want to keep the blond wig,” Ashley said.

  “Why do you want to keep that ratty old wig?” Rudinski asked, clearly frustrated.

  “Because I like the way it looks on me. I’ll have it professionally cleaned, and wear it when I feel like it. There’s no law against a woman wearing a wig, is there, Officer R?”

  “Not unless she’s disguising herself to commit a crime.”

  Ashley held her hands out in front of her as if ready to be cuffed. “You’ve got me. I was planning to wear the wig whenever I knock over a convenience store.”

  The shadow of a grin passed over his lips.

  “Come on, Officer R, for the effort I put out and the risk to life and limb, the least the department can do is pony up for an old wig.”