The Drowning Pool (24 page)

Her watery blue eyes blinked in confusion. “That’s all? I don’t understand. You said by bringing those keys I’d be helping you find out what happened to my boy. Aren’t you going to arrest somebody?” Mrs. Blake seemed to be working herself up.

He didn’t respond. The truth was, he’d half-expected her to make some sort of a scene; she was the sort of person who responded to stress and adversity with outbursts of angst and tears.

“One of them killed my boy!” She pointed an accusing finger at the group in general. “Sonny was meant to be a farmer just like generations before him. When the developers first came, they got folks like us who wasn’t making a decent living off the land to sell their farms for next to nothing. Then they built lots of them houses and apartments. More city people came out here. Their children cluttered our schools so they had to build more schools and then they raised our taxes. Our way of life was destroyed. City people. Scum, I hate you all! You corrupted my boy with your sinful ways.”

Everyone looked away, avoiding her malevolent gaze, but Mrs. Blake was determined to continue her diatribe. “It’s her fault most of all. Tramp, whore, slut! I hope they hang you. Your life for his, like it says in the Bible.” Mrs. Blake had turned her attention to April Nevins. The older woman was trembling. “Look at the way she dresses, exposing her flesh like that! It’s indecent and sinful! How can you seduce young boys, harlot? Where’s your conscience?” She raised her hand as if to strike April across the face.

Bert quickly sprang to restrain her. “Time to go home now.”

“Let me be! She’s responsible for Sonny’s death. Sonny told me about her. Aren’t you going to arrest her?”

April was livid. “You lunatic, I never killed anyone. Your son had some marbles missing, just like you. And he had plenty of experience with women before he ever met me. Your kid was far from innocent.”

“Liar!” Mrs. Blake screamed out hysterically. Then tears began to flow down her faded cheeks. She sobbed convulsively and clung to Gardner for support.

“Keep her away from me, Lieutenant. I swear, I’m not responsible for what happens if you don’t.” April rushed off in the direction of the ladies’ restroom.

“Detective, would you escort Mrs. Blake out?” He turned back to Sonny’s mother. “We’ll have you driven home.”

“No, my daughter-in-law is waiting in her car for me.”

Kim got to her feet. “I’ll walk you to your car.” Mrs. Blake seemed to respond better to Kim, to her innate kindness. In any case, she allowed Kim to take her arm, then rested heavily on her as they walked toward the gate.

“Poor woman,” Gardner overheard Louise Scofield mumble softly to no one in particular. Cheryl McNeill stood up and resumed her restless pacing. Martin Walling continued to puff ferociously on his cigar. Only his wife seemed calm, composed, almost totally detached. Gardner walked over to the water fountain and took a long, cool drink. He was at some distance from the others, but could hear the hushed undercurrent of conversation. He wondered if anything of significance was being said.

Bert joined him. She brought her mouth down and drank deeply from the fountain. “Water’s icy cold. I suppose you had some reason for setting that up?” Her facial muscles were taut. “In your own way, you’re tougher than I am.”

“No one felt much grief over Bradshaw’s death. I don’t think any one of them really cares whether or not his murderer is ever caught. But in Sonny’s case, there should be some sorrow or guilt. A possible killer was brought face to face with Mrs. Blake’s suffering which occurred as a direct result of the boy’s murder. I’m hoping that it will have some psychological effect, no matter how minimal.”

“Psych out the killer? I wonder.”

“I’m not convinced either death was premeditated.”

“Sonny’s death might have been accidental,” Bert agreed.

“Right. The motive must have been fear, panic. My thinking is that if we can upset the murderer enough, he or she will give something away.”

“Right now, it seems we’re long on motive and short on evidence.”

April Nevins reappeared. Gardner could see that her eyes were slightly red and puffy. Nevertheless, she walked erect, head raised high, tossing her mane of tawny hair defiantly.

“Ms. Nevins, you provide magnificent scenery, but it might prove a distraction for the male element; do you have something you could wear over your bathing suit?”

She removed a lacy black shift from her bag and put it on without comment. Gardner was very much aware that Louise, Cheryl and April were all beautiful women, each in her own way. If his ex-wife were here, without a doubt, she’d have made some cutting comment to the effect that she understood why he was so wrapped up in his work.

It occurred to him the common denominator in Bradshaw’s attraction to each of these women was not actually their beauty, striking as it was. Most men desired a particular type of woman. Over and over, they selected women from the same mold. Some men liked their women dominant, others submissive. Most men were drawn to physical attractiveness, some to intellect, charm or wealth. The list of possibilities was innumerable. Bradshaw obviously admired beauty in his women. But more importantly, he looked for variety. Gardner saw Bradshaw as a man who was edgy and easily bored. Therefore, he always looked for the unusual—possibly even the bizarre? He would also crave admiration from women as well, since the man obviously had a major ego. Gardner was convinced that understanding Bradshaw’s relationships with women was somehow essential to solving the case.

“Lieutenant, I really don’t think my wife should be subjected to this.”

Bill Scofield broke Gardner’s train of thought, bringing him back to the situation at hand. Gardner was aware that Scofield’s short fuse might present a problem; he resolved to handle him cautiously.

“You and your wife
are
involved in this.”

Scofield’s sapphire eyes hardened to glittering brilliance. “You know damn well Lou was just released from the hospital this morning. Hearing a bunch of insults and dirty accusations tossed back and forth won’t do her any good, and it won’t help you find out who killed Bradshaw. Frankly, I don’t give a damn.”

Gardner reflected that Scofield would have made a respectable Rhett Butler.

Louise reached out and put her pale, slender hand gently on her husband’s muscled, tan bicep. “Bill, it’s all right. I can take it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re too fragile for this. I want to take you home.”

“We have to stay,” she replied calmly. Then she turned to Gardner. “I haven’t murdered anyone. I’m not afraid to be here.”

“It seems your wife has made her own decision.”

“This is stupid,” Scofield said angrily.

“You haven’t any special reason for opposing it, do you? Is there a possibility that you’ve been holding back information or covering up to protect someone?”

“Of course not!”

Gardner watched him intently as did Bert.

“We’re only here to talk.” Gardner used a reassuring tone of voice.

“Could you please put out that foul-smelling cigar?” Cheryl said to Martin Walling, who was sitting to her right.

“Free country, isn’t it?”

“If you don’t put that thing out, I’m going to throw up all over you.”

He gave her a dirty look, was about to say something, but thought better of it and finally tossed his cigar to the ground and stomped it out. As he stepped on it, Martha Rhoades let out a small but very audible gasp.

“Smoking is not allowed here,” she said addressing the group in general. Her chilling gaze rested on Walling. She bent down and picked the offending item off the ground ever so carefully as if it were a poisonous snake, then placed it in a trash container with emphasis. “Evil creature,” she muttered audibly.

Kim quietly rejoined the group, exchanging a troubled look with Gardner. Sometimes he could read exactly what she was thinking, but at the moment, there was too much happening for him to directly focus on her.

Gardner could feel the tension stirring in the summer air. “There are a few questions I didn’t get to ask you at the hospital, some points that need clarifying,” he said addressing Scofield again.

“Like what?” Scofield asked irritably.

Gardner continued in a calm, polite voice that nevertheless conveyed authority. “You were vague about what started your belief that Bradshaw was having an affair with your wife. It’s very important, vital, in fact, that you tell us everything.”

Scofield’s hand tightened on the arm of the chair so that his knuckles whitened. “In front of everyone?”

“Especially in front of them.”

“I can’t.”

“Tell us the truth.” Gardner gave Scofield a hard look.

Scofield lowered his eyes and acquiesced grudgingly. “There was an evening when Lou said she was going shopping with her friend. I didn’t want her to go so I made a fuss over it. But she wouldn’t back down, acted like her life depended on it. That just wasn’t like her. She always yielded when I insisted.”

“There must have been more to it.”

“I neglected to mention it occurred on the same day Bradshaw told me that he was seeing a married woman, someone I knew quite well. He also mentioned he would be seeing her that evening.”

“That was the evening I went to the doctor to find out if I was pregnant,” Lou said, her voice oddly detached and distanced.

“For Christ’s sake, why didn’t you just tell me?” Scofield turned an anguished look on his wife. “We never used to keep secrets from each other.”

She sighed deeply as a sudden breeze mussed her auburn tresses. “I wasn’t sure what your reaction would be. How many times did you tell me you thought it was wrong to bring children into our terrible world? I thought I’d better be sure I was pregnant before I told you anything. I was afraid of making you angry at me.”

“What else was there?” Gardner pressed.

“That’s all there was to it. Okay?”

He knew that Scofield was holding back, hiding something, and wondered if it were particularly damaging. “It’s not okay. You’re not being straight with us.”

The final rays of sunlight glinted off Scofield’s sandy hair. He stood straight and tall looking like a vengeful Nordic god. “It has no bearing on the case, Lieutenant.”

“You’re not the one to decide that, Mr. Scofield. You’re too deeply involved.”

Scofield looked away. “I gave my word, and I take that very seriously. In spite of what you might think, I am a moral man. I live by a strict ethical code of values, although they may be different from those of some people.”

“I respect your feelings, Mr. Scofield, but holding back information of any kind makes you and your wife both suspect. You don’t want that, do you? We must have all of the truth.” Gardner had no intention of backing off. This was too important.

Louise took his hand and pressed it. “Please, tell them what they want to know.”

Scofield looked at Joan Walling. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, then he turned back, his cerulean eyes fixed on Gardner. “After Lou left the apartment that night, I got a call from Joan. She asked to speak to Lou. Naturally, I became upset.”

When Scofield paused, Gardner prodded him on. “Why would the call upset you? Doesn’t your wife normally receive phone calls from Mrs. Walling?”

“Yes, but Lou told me that she and Joan would be out together shopping.” His reluctance was evident.

“I see. Mrs. Walling was the girlfriend your wife claimed to be spending the evening with.” Gardner pressed on. “Mrs. Scofield, wasn’t it rather careless of you not to clear the story with Mrs. Walling?”

“I did. Joan promised to cover for me. I don’t understand.” Louise Scofield’s expression was one of bewilderment.

“I forgot,” Joan responded quietly. She avoided Louise’s gaze.

“How could you? I even reminded you that afternoon. You knew I was going to the doctor. If Bill ever asked you about the evening, you were supposed to verify my story.”

“When I phoned, I didn’t realize you’d already left.”

“I don’t believe you. I told you the time of my appointment.” Louise’s face flushed with anger.

“She blew it. Just write it off, okay?” Scofield sounded embarrassed.

“Mrs. Walling, why didn’t you tell Mr. Scofield where his wife really was at that point?”

“He didn’t ask.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Anyway, Lou didn’t want him to know.”

“Bill, why didn’t you come out and ask me that night, instead of thinking all those horrible things?”

Scofield shifted uneasily in his chair. “Joan was mortified. She knew you’d be angry with her if you found out what she’d done. So she begged me not to tell you. I gave her my word. Joan does value your friendship. Sometimes, Lou, you’re not the most forgiving person.”

“I’ve had a very good teacher in that regard.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You’re being awfully chivalrous toward Joan, but then you always are to women who play up to your male ego. I can’t remember a waitress who smiled at you that didn’t get over-tipped in return.”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“Joan was trying to cause trouble between us. I see that now. She was jealous of our relationship and you fell right into her trap.”

“Who confided to her in the first place? She was
your
friend.”

“She was never my friend. I just didn’t know it.”

Bert moved toward them but addressed her comments to Gardner. “I checked out Mrs. Scofield’s story with her doctor. She was in his office nearly two hours on the evening in question.”

Louise smiled at Bert with an expression on her face indicating that she considered Bert an ally; she sensed Bert’s sympathy and instinctively trusted her.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gardner could see Martin Walling beginning to stir restlessly, like a bear coming out of hibernation. He turned his heavy body uncomfortably in his chair, perspiration standing out on the round bald spot near the top of his head.

“Look here, Lieutenant,” Walling began, “I don’t see any reason why Joan and I should have to hang around here. You seem to be dredging up a lot of dirt and destroying some good friendships in the process. And that’s all you’ve managed to accomplish. If you have any specific questions to ask us, my wife and I are more than willing to cooperate, but I resent what you’re doing here.”