Moratorium

by Chuck Sampson

  “He’s right detective.” Kelsey said, stepping away slowly from Dana’s embrace.

  “Have you two been together all morning?”

  “No, I picked Kelsey up at around 9:00am.”

  Cyrus nodded and took out his notepad. While he was writing, the SB County Coroner, Thaddeus Colbert, walked past the three of them silently. From the corner of his eye, Cyrus watched as Thad knelt down next to Mike’s body. Cyrus had always got along well with Thad. He was a young, short, thin, mostly bald, bug-eyed man. He had a small, round, head and fine, doll like facial features. Carrying a large, black, old fashioned doctor’s bag, he appeared intimidating, even for a man of his diminutive statue. He wore an immaculate flat-green trench coat and black, spit-shined dress shoes. Taking out a handful of cotton swabs and a syringe, Colbert looked up at Kelsey and narrowed his eyes. “You may not want to watch,” he said, “I have to be a little disrespectful to the deceased to do my job, sorry.”

  Kelsey turned away. Two tall, thin, EMTs walked past her carrying a stretcher. They stopped when they got to Thad and put it down a few feet from Mike’s corpse.

  Cyrus ceased writing in his notepad. “Can you tell if he had been taking any drugs?”

  “My brother never took drugs!” Kelsey shouted.

  Dana stared at Cyrus with narrowed eyes.

  Thad nodded his head and was about to speak when Max called out from behind the large, tree-trunk sized, driftwood where he had been searching, “Found it, Cyrus.” He held up a blue, wooden, souvenir baseball bat with a black handle and a barely visible LA Dodgers logo.

  Max put the wooden club into a large, clear, plastic bag and brought over to Cyrus. Carefully examining the club’s length, he found small splotches of blood along the handle and at the end was an outline of a big spot of blood. They didn’t do a very thorough job cleaning off the blood, he said to himself. They didn’t even use bleach. I thought by now everyone knew about using bleach to get rid of blood traces, thanks to all those goofy forensic science shows on TV. The person who did this was definitely frightened and in a big hurry. Looks like something a drugged up surf bum would do. Detective Fleming turned to Dana and held the bat up to him and said, “You ever seen this bat before?”

  “I have one in my car I keep under my seat for protection.”

  “Protection from whom?”

  “Well, no one in particular. I used to live a few blocks south of Stanley Road just off of Ventura Avenue. It’s a pretty rough neighborhood.”

  “Oh yes, right, that is a dangerous area, lots of gangs … surfers too.” responded Cyrus. “We have a problem here, Dana. An eyewitness called our dispatcher and said she saw a tall, blonde-haired, man fighting with another shorter, dark-haired man on this beach. She also said the blonde haired man was swinging a blue, black-handled bat at the other man. Now when we arrive, we find a tall, blonde-haired, man, that being you, with scraped and swollen knuckles, standing over the corpse of a dark-haired fellow. And we find a black handled souvenir bat with blood on it hidden in the sand behind some driftwood. When did you and Kelsey get here?”

  “I told you before; we’ve been here about ten minutes at the most.”

  “You’re sure you’ve been here ten minutes?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  Cyrus looked over toward Kelsey for confirmation and noticed she was watching Colbert extract fluids from her brother’s eye. After a moment, she groaned and passed out. Dana caught her before she dropped to the ground. Cyrus motioned to Max, “Take this young lady to the ambulance and get her medical attention.”

  Max gently took Kelsey from Dana and with the help of the EMTs, placed her on the stretcher and started for the stairway at the south end of the beach.

  “You stay with me, Dana” Cyrus put out his large hand and stopped him, “Let’s go to where your car is parked. I want you to show me the baseball bat under the seat.” Cyrus motioned Dana to go northward, in the opposite direction of where the E.T.s were taking Kelsey. It was a more direct, though seldom used, route that led back up to the parking lot. Dana picked up his small backpack and followed Cyrus through the sand. They carefully walked around Mike’s corpse, bagged and tagged and surrounded by yellow police tape. One of Thad’s men circled the area taking pictures.

  Soon, they came to the foot of the sandy beach cliff and a grey, wooden stairway that led up to the parking lot and Dana’s car. Cyrus started up the steep set of steps with a grunt of displeasure. He had not anticipated having to be so active this early in the morning. This stairway is even steeper than the one on the south side, he complained to himself. By the time they reached the top, Cyrus was wheezing and coughing like a junked out diesel. He paused for a moment and caught his breath as Dana climbed up the stairs; he was already several paces ahead of him. He noted that although Dana was moving up the stairs quickly, his gait was unnatural and he had to use the handrail to lift up his left leg at each step.

  By the time they crossed the small field of rubbery, green, ice plant that lay between the cliff’s edge and the sidewalk in front of the parking lot, Cyrus had recovered enough to talk,

  “You have a fine, classic car. I had one like it when I was your age. It was a navy blue convertible with a white top. Unfortunately for me, I am old enough to have bought mine when it was relatively new.”

  “This car is actually not a classic anymore,” Dana replied, “It’s an antique.”

  Cyrus, standing near the front of the Mustang, gave him a weak smile. He didn’t like sarcasm except when he used it. While Dana opened its door and felt around under the seat for his souvenir bat, Cyrus stood on the sidewalk in front of the car. After several minutes of searching under all the seats, Dana walked to the back and opened the trunk. Stepping down from the sidewalk, Cyrus went around behind him. Dana pushed aside a small, red tool box and a sports bag full of towels, surfboard wax, and a wetsuit from one side of the trunk to the other. He lifted the cover to the spare tire. As Dana hunted around for the bat, Cyrus noted that the spare was in good shape. There was no blood on the lug wrench either. It was possible, barely possible, he could have had the spare repaired and the tire changed and made it back to the beach. He figured he was lying about the spare too. He thought about having Max check it out, but it probably didn’t matter. There was enough evidence already.

  Dana glanced back at Cyrus and shrugged his shoulders. “I must have left it at home, the bat is not here.”

  Cyrus walked over to the trunk of the car and stood next to Dana, who was still searching through the contents of the interior, as if he were hoping the bat would suddenly appear. Pulling out a small notebook and pen, Cyrus leaned his backside against the rear of the car and jotted down a few notes. When he had finished, he motioned for Dana to stand back from the car. Then he reached up and closed the trunk.

  He went back to his spot on the side of the Mustang, “And what is your relationship to Kelsey?”

  “We’re engaged.”

  Cyrus paused from his writing. Sounds like the surf star needs money, he said to himself. He put away his notebook and continued, “Tell me, Dana, how’s the pay at Chevron these day?”

  “That’s none of your business. But I do ok.”

  “Yeah,” Cyrus said as he patted the fender of the Mustang, “I guess you do.”

  “Well, I am no millionaire; I’ve only been with company about two years.”

  “Getting hitched to Jack Tanner’s daughter will make you a millionaire. So how did you manage to meet Kelsey Tanner? Not exactly the kind of girl you usually run with, is it?”

  “Go to hell. It’s none of your business how I met Kelsey Tanner.”

  “Settle down. You’re right I was out of line.” Cyrus took out his pen and notebook, “When was the last time you saw Mike alive?”

  “Yesterday morning, I think.”

  Cyrus detected a fearful glimmer in his eyes. He’s hiding something, he said to himself.

  “Where?” The volume of Cyrus’s voice increased
slightly.

  “At Surfer’s Park, in Ventura”

  “Anybody else around?”

  “Half of Ventura, the surf was great, everybody was going out.”

  “What time?”

  “I am not sure, early, probably seven or so.”

  “So what did Mike think of you being engaged to his sister?”

  “He didn’t know we were engaged, I just proposed to her about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Well did he like the idea of you going out with his sister?”

  Dana said nothing and broke eye contact with him.

  “Did you get into an argument with him, maybe over Kelsey?”

  “Yeah, he started showing off in front of some of our friends. He called me a cripple and said I should be dating other cripples, not his sister.”

  “That would have made me angry. I would have hit him for saying that myself. Is that how you scraped your knuckles?”

  “No, I told you, I was changing a tire this morning on the way over to Kelsey’s.”

  “How did you get it repaired so quickly? The spare in your trunk is in perfect condition.”

  “Oh yeah, I made a mistake, I changed the tire yesterday morning.”

  “You hurt your knuckles on Mike’s chin didn’t you?”

  “No, I told you, we exchanged some harsh words.”

  “Did you threaten him?”

  “Well, yeah…”

  “Did you threaten to kill him?”

  “No, I mean, I said we had some words. I was just angry, I didn’t mean it.”

  “You threatened him?”

  Dana nodded his head, “But I didn’t kill Mike. I just told him to mind his own business.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I pushed him.”

  “I thought you just had words? Are you lying again? How hard did push him? Did you knock him down?”

  “Yeah, I pushed him and he went down. He wasn’t hurt and I didn’t lie; I didn’t hit him with my fist, not once.”

  “Knocking someone down is having more than words. What did he do after you pushed him?”

  “He got up and took a few swings at me. He missed. Then he lunged at me. I grabbed his hands and held him down for a few moments until Rogue and Gnome broke us apart.”

  “What are their real names?”

  “Rick Starling, he’s a Ventura County Sheriff, and Roger Martinez, he’s a lawyer.”

  “Did the sheriff witness the fight?” Cyrus continued as he wrote down the names Dana had given him.

  “Am I under arrest? I want a lawyer. I don’t have to answer anymore questions, do I?”

  “No you don’t have to answer any more questions until we get to the police station and you have a lawyer present. I am placing you under arrest for suspicion of the murder of Mike Tanner. Let’s go.” Cyrus said taking Dana by the arm firmly.

  “All right,” Dana rubbed the sweat from his face. “At least let me change into my pants and shirt.”

  “You have your clothes?”

  “They’re over there, in my backpack.” He pointed to the bag lying on the sidewalk.

  Cyrus nodded, let go of Dana’s arm, and after studying the shape of Dana’s scar for a moment or two, said, “That’s a pretty bad scar you got on your back; how did you get it?”

  “I fell off my surfboard.”

  Cyrus walked with Dana over to the men’s room and waited while he changed back into his street clothes. After he dressed, Cyrus read him his rights; he decided not to cuff him. One of the privileges of being a Detective Sergeant was that one did not always have to follow department policy. He wanted to see if Dana would try to escape. Instead of running, Dana looked Cyrus square in the eyes.

  “I didn’t kill Mike.” He said calmly.

  “You are not being charged with murder-yet. I am taking you in for questioning.”

  Cyrus led him to his squad car. The coroner and Max walked up to Cyrus while he was helping Dana get into the back seat. Colbert spoke first.

  “He wasn’t drowned. His lungs are normal. There are no signs of stress associated with asphyxiation. Diatoms in his lungs don’t match the environment.”

  Cyrus cast Thad a blank look and held out his hands.

  “Please translate that into English.” Cyrus retrieved his small notepad and a pen to write down Thad’s response.

  “Diatoms are a type of algae. We check to see if the algae in the water match the algae in the victim’s body.”

  “If they don’t match?”

  “It means he was dead before he hit the water. Apparently he died from a blow to the back of the head with a blunt instrument, like a baseball bat. There are several large spots of blood-clotted sand on the beach near the victim.”

  “What was the time of death?”

  “From the amount of rigor in the body I’d say the time of death was about two hours ago, around eight or eight thirty this morning. I took fluid samples from the back of the eyes. That’s what I was doing when the young lady passed out. It’s a new, accurate method. We’ll analyze the samples in the lab to confirm it. I’ll let you know more details after the autopsy.”

  “Thanks Colbert.” Cyrus closed his notebook and put his pen in his pocket. He raised his hand to his forehead and called out,

  “One more thing, Thad.”

  “Yes”

  “The name of the victim’s father is Jack Tanner.”

  “I heard of him. He owns TANOCO, right?

  “Right, get someone to send a couple of men over to his place to let him know what’s happened?”

  “As soon as I get back to the station.”

  Colbert drove off following the ambulance carrying Mike’s corpse out of the parking lot. A large, white, tow truck with a flat bed passed them going the opposite way and pulled up close to Cyrus’ squad car. The driver was wearing a Dodger’s baseball cap and his hair was pulled back into a pony tail. He was tan, and looked to be about twenty-five. He was wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt covered with images of large yellow flowers. He had a passenger with him, the homeless man from the fight. Cyrus noticed Dana wave to him, “Friend of yours?”

  “Not really, I met him at the beach yesterday.”

  The homeless man leaned back in his seat and took a swig from his paper bag, then started singing softly, in a high, falsetto voice,

  “Bad boy, bad boy, watcha ya gonna do, watcha ya gonna do when they come for you…”

  The tow truck driver got out and came around to the other side of the truck where Max and Cyrus were standing.

  “Where’s the car?”

  “The car is over on the south parking lot. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it, it’s the only car in the lot, a green convertible Cooper,” Max said.

  “Hold on!” Cyrus yelled over to Max. “What’s the hurry with the car? Have you checked it out?”

  “Don’t worry, Cyrus.” He held up a garbage bag and continued, “I have all the things that were in his trunk, right here. I’ll bring them back to the station. The forensics guy said he wanted to take the car in to do some special blood tests. He said he could only do them with the special equipment back at the lab. ”

  The driver, stammering and shaking as he spoke, asked Max, “Where am I taking it?”

  “Santa Barbara Police impounded vehicle lot; our trucks are all out boosting cars parked illegally on the beach. Do you know where the lot is?”

  “Yeah, I used to work for the city.”

  The driver climbed quickly back into the truck and drove off. Cyrus closed the back door of the squad car after Dana got in, still un-handcuffed. He got in to the driver’s side of the car and rolled down the window. Looking up, he called out to Max, “I called in another squad car and told them to pick you up. I need you to go to Ventura and see if you can find out about a fight between Dana Mathers and the deceased. Happened yesterday morning, early, about 7:30 am.”

  “Sure thing, Cyrus, any ideas where to start?”

  “Start with Ric
k Starling; he’s a Ventura County Sheriff.”

  As Cyrus drove out of the parking lot toward the freeway onramp, Dana leaned forward and spoke through the window separating the front seat from the back, “What about Kelsey?”

  “We’ll bring her in for questioning as soon as the doctor at Community Memorial says she is ok.”

  “Kelsey will tell you she was with me from eight thirty this morning until now. How was I supposed to kill Mike when I was with her?”

  “Maybe you killed him at eight and went back to Ventura to pick her up; it’s only ten minutes from here early in the morning before rush hour. Maybe she was with you when you killed him. She may have wanted Mike dead too. Maybe he tried to pick a fight with you again and you just over reacted, I don’t know, you tell me.”

  “You’re crazy. In the first place Kelsey loved Mike and would never hurt him. I don’t know what happened to Mike. I just know all I did this morning was get up and get dressed. I picked up Kelsey at the hospital and drove out here to Rincon. Then we found Kelsey’s brother lying on the beach, dead.”

  “An eyewitness says she can identify the man who was standing over Mike’s corpse holding a blue handled bat. If you aren’t the man we’re after, she’ll tell us.”

  “There are at least a hundred tall, blonde haired surfers in Santa Barbara. She’s just mixed up, Detective.”

  Cyrus nodded in agreement. But, he said to himself, there aren’t a million blonde haired surfers who know the deceased and have a publicly known grudge against him. And there aren’t a hundred blonde haired surfers who were at the scene of the murder. Most importantly, there aren’t a hundred blonde haired surfers who have a long scar, shaped like a hook that runs from the base of the neck to the middle of their back just like the eyewitness described. And you lied about the last time you saw Mike Tanner. We got our man; Rudy will be happy.

  The detective turned on to the freeway ramp and sped up to merge. He didn’t ask Dana another question. To make sure Dana didn’t get off on a technicality, he decided to wait until after he was formally charged and had a lawyer, before he questioned him any further.

  When Cyrus checked his review, he saw Dana sitting back in his seat and staring up at the car ceiling.