Moratorium

by Chuck Sampson

  Chapter 6

  Cyrus arrived at the station with Dana around noon. Sweating profusely, he yanked his tie loose and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Here we go again, he said to himself as he opened the car door. Even Fleming, a newly arrived transplant from Long Beach, had heard of the heroic exploits of the surf icon he held in custody. “Dana Mathers lives only a few miles east of here; he is the top ranked surfer in the world!”

  Those words, or some close variation thereof, began the conversation in nearly every restaurant, club, and bar he frequented from Ventura to Santa Barbara, followed by hours of exaggerated drunk talk about Dana’s exploits.

  The first time he ever heard of Dana Mathers was at a club named Bombay’s on C Street in Ventura, where he heard the dramatic tale of how he carried a large lava rock underwater. Having just finished moving into his townhouse on Main Street, he decided to relax, drink a tonic-water with lemon, and shoot a couple of rounds of eight ball. The bouncer, who could have doubled as Mr. French’s bigger, stronger brother, opened the door courteously for him and made a friendly salute. The tunes from the jazz band playing a good cover of Sam and Dave’s “Shotgun” could be heard for blocks, while several nice looking couples danced.

  That band’s got a great drummer, Cyrus said to himself. As he danced like a rhythm challenged white man toward the bar to order his alcohol free drink, Cyrus could hear the storyteller over music.

  “The rock weighed fifty pounds,” a tanned, well muscled, but balding, inebriate said, “And he carried the boulder underwater for a half hour.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” The trim, blue-eyed, blonde girl leaning next to him yanked on his arm. “The world record for holding your breath under water is eleven minutes.”

  The bartender, who had his back to the bar working on a Pina Colada, turned around. “He does train that way, though. You guys acquainted with Rogue or E-Man?”

  The blonde girl nodded her head. “Yeah, I went to Buena High the same time as Dana. Rogue, E-Man, Gnome, all those guys hung out with him in their little surf gang.”

  The music stopped. The drunk smiled, and the bartender served up the Pina Colada to the drummer who had slid quietly up to the bar. “I viewed a video Rogue took of their training in Hawaii. Rogue and E could carry the big rocks for five, maybe six, minutes before they had to surface, but Dana always won,” the barkeep said, “It was amazing. They timed him at close to nine minutes.”

  The drunk slammed his hand on the bar and rolled his glazed eyes, “He got robbed at the Pipeline Masters!” Immediately after the loud bang made by the drunk, Cyrus noted that Mr. French had stood up. He could feel the tension level in the bar rise to the uncomfortable level. The drunk hadn’t noticed and he continued, “Those Hawaiians didn’t want another Haole from California winning one of their contests. That’s the only reason he lost!”

  “Shut up Fred.” The blonde girl pulled him away from the bar.

  “I think you need to take him home Sherry.”

  “We’re leaving, don’t worry.”

  Arguing the whole time, they weaved their way out the door past the much more relaxed Mr. French. The bartender set the tonic water firmly on the bar in front of Cyrus, “He’s right you know-he’s drunk-but he’s right.”

  And now, on this sunny afternoon, as Cyrus opened the car door for the surf icon he had arrested, he understood well the negative implications of making such an unpopular arrest. He was once again putting the station at odds with the sentiments of the public. He stiffened his back and removed all expression from his face before leading his suspect up the stairs. As the pair marched up the steps of the station and headed for the interrogation room, most of the people passing by- especially the females-recognized Dana immediately. The women smiled pleasantly at the trim, ocean icon and said hello, while ignoring Cyrus.

  Once inside, a small group of Dana’s admirers started an impromptu get-together around the perimeter of the hallway. The volume of the office chatter level increased considerably as the two men strolled side by side to the interrogation room at the end of the hall. He escorted Dana into the room, closed the door, and motioned for Dana to sit down at the long, wooden, table in the center.

  “Would you like something to eat or drink?”

  “I am not hungry; a glass of water would be fine. I want to call my lawyer now.” Dana said firmly, sitting down at the desk.

  “Absolutely, I am going to my desk to get a recorder. I’ll be right back.” Cyrus replied as he walked back out through the door and into the hall. He spotted Bailey, Rudy’s administrative assistant, sitting at her desk engrossed in something on her PC. “At least someone around here isn’t obsessed with Dana Mathers,” he said to himself.

  “Bailey, can you get Mr. Mathers a glass of water?”

  “I would be delighted! I have a bottle of Dasani he can have.” She jumped up from her desk and ran toward the interrogation room.

  “Whatever,” Cyrus replied, shaking his head. As he hurried down the adjacent hall toward his desk, he espied Capt. Detective Rodolfo Santiago walking quickly between the other detective’s cubicles toward him on an intercept course. Rudy pushed his short, slim frame between two officers and headed straight toward him. Before Cyrus reached his desk Rudy intercepted him.

  “Dana Mathers is very well loved and respected in this town, I hope you know what you are doing bringing him in for questioning,” he said while walking straight toward Cyrus.

  “Well isn’t better than no case at all? What about Jack Tanner, isn’t he one of the richest men in California?”

  “I am not worried about Tanner. Everybody in this town hates oil men.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Most people still remember the incident on Platform A off the coast of Summerland.”

  “I don’t understand why, a few birds got dirty and beaches closed down for a while. Anyway the ‘69 oil disaster happened over forty years ago, Rudy, and nobody remembers that.”

  “Nobody in Long Beach remembers probably, but you’re not in Long Beach anymore, Fleming.”

  “I have noticed they take this saving the world stuff pretty serious around here.”

  “Well I don’t blame them. It wouldn’t have mattered if the spill happened a hundred years ago, the way the oil spread over our beautiful shoreline and killed all those birds and seals, no one forgets that. Beaches closed for weeks, not just a few days. Shops, hotels, and restaurants lost millions. We had protests off and on for three months. Ever heard of Earth Day? It was started here because of that spill.” Rudy put his hand on his forehead as if he’d been struck. “But everybody loves Dana Mathers. The man is a local icon. Why didn’t you arrest the Governor? My job would have been less of a problem. We can’t afford another case where we let a celebrity walk.”

  “You want me to let him go?”

  Rudy waved his hand at him and said, “Are you crazy? Especially because of the Nichols case we can’t let him go. We can’t lose it, either. Do you have enough evidence?”

  “We have the murder weapon, a blue souvenir baseball bat with some blood stains. Thad said he could easily get some prints off of it.”

  “What about our eyewitness?”

  “Briana Carswell, she works as an administrative assistant for Dick McGovern, senior chief advisor to Governor Jeb Dunbar. “

  “Administrative assistant-do you mean secretary?”

  “Yes.”

  “How sure are you Dana Mathers is the man she witnessed hit Mike Tanner at the beach?”

  “The suspect matches the description she gave to us perfectly, including a unique scar on his back.”

  “And what about the motive? Why’d he do it?”

  “He was engaged to Kelsey Tanner, the deceased’s sister. Dana stood to gain a lot of money and influence at Chevron by becoming the son-in-law of one of the richest men in Santa Barbara County.”

  “So why kill her brother?”

  “Mike didn’t like the idea,
I am guessing. Rich people can be very picky about who they let in their circle. Dana told me he was in an argument with the deceased the day before. At first, he said the incident was nothing, only harsh words exchanged. When I pressed him, he admitted that things got physical. I sent Max down to Ventura to look up some of the eyewitnesses and verify Mathers’ account.”

  “We can’t screw this up Fleming. We have to get it right, one way or the other. Tanner and Mathers are pretty well known and this case could easily go nationwide.”

  They both continued quickly down the hallway toward Cyrus’s desk as they spoke. Cyrus sensed the urgent tone in Rudy’s voice. He felt a wave a depression course through his mind.

  “Does he have an alibi?” Rudy asked.

  “He says he was home in bed at the time of the murder. He can’t verify it.”

  They walked together in silence until they reached the large room at the end of the hall. “Anything else?” Rudy said.

  “Yes, Tanner was dressed in his wet suit, lying face down on the shoreline. When we arrived at the scene, Mathers told us Tanner had drowned.”

  “So?”

  “Well, it could be that he was purposely trying to sell us on the idea Tanner’s death was an accident.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t?”

  “Thad told me Tanner died from blunt force trauma. He couldn’t have hit his head on any rocks on the north side of Rincon Point, it is all sand. Besides, Thad couldn’t find any physical sign of drowning.”

  “Well, if Mathers is innocent, he wouldn’t have known about the bat. And since he’s not a trained crime scene investigator, how was he supposed to know Tanner wasn’t drowned?”

  “I know he saw the blood on Tanner’s head. You don’t have to be a crime scene investigator to figure out the guy died from crushed skull.”

  “Maybe he thought he smacked his head on some rocks. I’ve heard that happens from time to time.”

  “Like I said before, no rocks. It looked to me like Dana tried to cover up and throw us off. He wasn’t aware someone had reported their altercation. He probably thought we’d bite on his accidental death theory. If it hadn’t been for the eyewitness, we probably would have.”

  “Ok, I think you made a good arrest, but right now it’s his word against ours. We don’t book him until we can verify the murder weapon is his and the eyewitness picks him out of a line-up.”

  “Sounds fair to me, the witness won’t be available until tomorrow.”

  Rudy nodded and said, “Get a statement from Dana and then let him go. He’s not to leave town and he has to appear in the line-up tomorrow. If he gets picked, with all the other evidence we have on him, he’ll make a deal.”

  He kept walking past Cyrus’s desk and into his office, shutting the door hard behind him. Cyrus pulled back the chair from his desk and sat down. Before he could boot up his computer, Rudy opened his door and popped his head out,

  “Has anybody notified Jack Tanner his son has been found dead?”

  “Thad had a couple of his men go to his home in Half Moon an hour ago and I was just about to call him.”

  “Good, you need to notify him before the press gets here, I want him to find out about his son’s death from us before learns about the murder reading the paper.”

  Just as Cyrus was about to pick up the phone, Rudy called out again. “One more thing, check on Kelsey Tanner, he said, “We have to make certain she’s not an accessory.”

  “I have a detective posted at her hospital room with orders to let me know the minute the doctor releases her.”

  “When will you have your report ready?”

  “Give me a couple hours?”

  “O.K., I think I can no comment the press for now. By the way, Cyrus, you did a good job.”

  Cyrus nodded his head as he picked up the phone. The line was busy so he left him a message. When he hung up, Max walked in accompanied by two men walking a step behind him. Cyrus surmised that the big man in the Sheriff’s uniform was Rick Starling and the short, small, wiry one must be Martinez, the lawyer Dana had told him about.

  Cyrus stood up and Max introduced everybody. He got a couple of chairs and they all sat down together, except for Sheriff Starling. He stood in front of Cyrus and said, “I need to talk to you alone.”

  “We can use the interrogation room.” Cyrus got up and motioned to Starling for him to follow. He turned to Max and said, “Take down Mr. Martinez’s statement, Max.”

  Max nodded his head in response and Cyrus headed for the interrogation room with Starling right behind.

  After Cyrus closed the door, Starling said, “I won’t take up much time. I certainly don’t want to tell you how to run your investigation, but I think there are a few things you should know about the murder victim and the man you suspect as his murderer.”

  “Have a seat Sheriff. Do you want a coffee or water?”

  “I am fine, like I said I don’t want to take up a lot of your time.” Starling replied.

  “So what do you have?”

  “First of all, if I had known the fight between Mike and Dana was serious I would have run them both in yesterday. Maybe Mike would still be alive.”

  “Don’t worry, Sherriff, no one is going to blame you for not being able to see into the future.”

  “Dana didn’t start the fight that morning and in my opinion, he has always been able to handle Mike pretty well up to now.”

  “Well it’s the now that I am concerned with Sheriff. Why do you say Mike started the fight?”

  “He was taunting Dana.”

  “How so?”

  “He made cracks about him being a cripple only good for other cripples.”

  “Pretty lousy remark-what’d Dana do?”

  “He told him if he ever said anything bad about Deidra Jones again, he’d kill him.”

  “Who’s Deidra Jones?”

  “She’s his ex-girlfriend. They split up after Dana had his accident. But you have to know Detective, when Dana made that threat; I know he didn’t mean it.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He couldn’t hurt Mike. He was too little. I’ve never once seen Dana in a scrap with a guy who wasn’t bigger than he was. Hell, he never hit the guy once. Besides, he really does love Kelsey.”

  “Well sometimes people snap Sherriff, you know that. What else do you have?”

  “You heard of Operation Backfire?”

  “Yes, the FBI briefed us. They are trying to track down the perp who started the fire in Laguna. What’s that got to do with Dana Mathers or Mike Tanner?”

  “About a week ago, Tanner came over to my place, agitated and frightened. He started babbling to me about some man following him around. He asked me what I could do about it. He thought it was either a private investigator his father had hired, or that one of the people he had fired when he became editor of The Messenger was out for revenge.”

  “So the victim had a lot of enemies, I’ll keep that in mind. Is that all?”

  Sheriff Starling shook his head and continued, “When word got to my boss that I was spending after hours time investigating for Mike Tanner, he called me into his office and told me I had better stop and get as far away from Mike as I could.”

  “And why was that?”

  “He told me that Tanner was being watched by the FBI as a person of interest in that Laguna Beach fire.”

  “Why?”

  “He wrote a lot of rants about saving the environment and shutting down the oil rigs.”

  “Just like everybody else here in Retro-land, California. Last I heard, writing about shutting down oil rigs and saving the environment is still protected by the first amendment. As far as I can tell it makes one of the tribe around here.”

  “I guess the FBI thinks it makes you a suspect.”

  “The Feds are a bit heavy handed if you ask me.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  “You saying Operation Backfire might be a witch hunt?”

&
nbsp; “Maybe, but I just wanted to warn you. You might run into people during your investigation who aren’t who they say they are. By the way, my boss told me the FBI read all Tanner’s rants, especially the one he wrote about the Laguna Beach fire. The reason they were following him was that he knew too many details about how the fire was started. Things only people who helped start the fire would know.”

  “Anything else, Sherriff?”

  “No, that’s all. Like I said, I don’t want to interfere; I just wanted to warn you.”

  “Thanks,” Cyrus said and then he patted him on the back. He took a deep breath, corrected his tone of voice to a less formal one, and continued, “I appreciate you taking the time and the risk to tell me all this. You saved me from being blindsided by some nutcase reporter I am sure.” He shook Sheriff Starling’s hand and continued, “Everything you have told me today will be held in the strictest confidence and I am sure that you will do the same, right?”

  “Yes Detective Fleming, not a word.”

  Cyrus watched him as he made a beeline for the exit door. That is the last thing in this world I need, he said to himself, some grandiose Oliver Stone type, men-on-the-grassy-knoll, conspiracy theory complicating my investigation and giving that beach boy Mathers a way out. He turned to go back to his desk and met Martinez coming the other way. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long Mr. Martinez. I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

  “Waste my time? This whole investigation is a waste of the taxpayer’s time if you ask me. Dana Mathers couldn’t possibly have murdered Mike Tanner.”

  Cyrus frowned and then said, “Why couldn’t he? He had motive, opportunity, and means.”

  Martinez shook his head, “You got it all wrong. He had no motive to hurt him at all. Mike was Kelsey’s brother, and he loves Kelsey more than anyone. For God’s sake, the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt Mike.”

  “Why did he get in a fight with him? Why did he threaten to kill him?”

  “Mike prodded him. He called him a cripple and told him to stay away from his sister. So he lost his temper and-”