The Drowning Pool (37 page)

“You don’t think she’s back with that shit, do you?”

“I can’t believe Walling’d be willing to live with her either,” Gardner said. “Not after she admitted to having an affair with Bradshaw and hating his guts.”

“Not to mention clobbering Bradshaw with a baseball bat.”

* * * *

Joan Walling wasn’t eager to see them at first, but Gardner convinced her they were only going to ask one or two questions that had nothing personally to do with her. She let them into the apartment.

“I’m staying for a few days,” she said defensively, answering their unasked question. “I’m packing my things together and going back to my parents’ house, although Martin and I have talked.” There was a hesitation in her voice. “We might be able to forgive each other and work things out in time.”

Gardner checked himself; it was not his place to give marital advice. He hadn’t done well in that department himself. “Mrs. Walling, apparently Bradshaw was a chain smoker. You said that he was waiting for you in the utility room. Among his effects at the time of his death were a half-smoked pack of cigarettes and a lighter. They were found in his pants pocket. Did you see him smoke while you were with him?”

“Rick always had a cigarette in his mouth. He was orally compulsive.”

She was paler and thinner than the last time he’d seen her, her cheekbones more pronounced, features gaunt.

“Can you recall if there were cigarette butts on the floor?”

“I wouldn’t remember that.”

“Please try.”

“Well, I suppose so. The room was darkly lit and I wasn’t really looking, but it was very smoky, and there weren’t any ashtrays. I don’t understand why it matters.” She looked bewildered.

He thanked Joan Walling for her help without answering her question.

He looked carefully at Bert as they walked out to their car. “You’re spent. You need to lie down and ingest some of those painkillers the doc prescribed.”

“What I need is to finish this case. That will help me rest a whole lot better.”

“Okay, but I need to stop by my house and check on Kim and the girls before anything else.”

Bert didn’t argue. She closed her eyes and rested as he drove. For his part, Gardner was preoccupied with thoughts of how to proceed with the Bradshaw case. He was certain now who the killer was. Proving it was going to be another matter entirely.

* * * *

Kim, Evie and Jean were in the kitchen when he and Bert arrived.

“We’re fixing salad,” Jean told him.

“Kim went shopping and bought groceries,” Evie said.

He watched Kim chopping carrots and red bell peppers as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened earlier in the day. “You’re amazing,” he said.

“What? You were low on groceries. Since I decided to stay here for the rest of the day, I might as well make myself useful. Hope you like fresh salmon. I bought the wild salmon fillets. They’re the best kind.”

“Dad’s not much of a fish eater,” Evie confided.

“If Kim cooks it, I’ll eat it,” Gardner said.

Jean giggled. “That means Dad really likes you,” she said in a stage whisper.

“Bert, how about you?” Kim asked. “Fish okay?”

“Fine,” Bert said.

“How’s the hand?” Kim’s expression was one of concern.

“Could be better,” Bert admitted.

“We hope to finish up the Bradshaw case this evening. Want to come with us?”

“Sure,” Kim agreed. “I was there with you at the beginning. It seems only fitting that I should be with you at the end.”

TWENTY-TWO

“Are we going over to the swim club now?” Bert asked as they left the house.

“I think it’s time, don’t you?” Gardner responded.

It was past seven in the evening when they walked through the main gate of the club. The place was almost empty. Gardner looked around for Martha Rhoades, and as he did, he had a sense of having gone full circle like a precise Swiss clock.

Martha Rhoades was supervising clean-up activities. The serious heat of the day was over and long shadows formed along the walkways. Outside the gates, several children played in a sandbox as well as on the swings and slide adjoining the club. Large shade trees bordered the high green vinyl fence. It didn’t seem possible that a violent murder could have occurred in such a place.

Martha Rhoades was too absorbed in her work to notice them right away. Gardner observed the curly, close-cropped dark hair that crowned her stern, well-tanned face.

“Why are you back here again?” she demanded when she saw them.

“I think you know why we’ve come.”

“I thought the matter of the Bradshaw investigation was finished.” She began folding up a chaise uneasily.

“Mrs. Walling didn’t kill Mr. Bradshaw. Someone else did.”

“I’ve already told you all I know. I’m really tired of being bothered. I have work to do. You’ll have to excuse me.” She called to the young, male lifeguard with the dark-colored hair. “Clean out the kiddie pool. You forgot yesterday.” She turned back to them. “That used to be Sonny’s job. I haven’t been able to replace him this late in the season. It means extra work for the rest of us.”

“We need a moment to talk privately,” Gardner said in a quiet but strong tone of voice.

“Don’t you see how busy I am?”

He ignored her angry response. “We’ll talk right here then. Getting back to the night Bradshaw was killed, when you arrived at the swim club, you said you found the lights on.”

She cleared her throat noisily. “That’s right. They were on.”

“Mr. Page visited the pool the night Bradshaw died. He apparently left around nine, and Bradshaw did not appear to have sustained a knife wound at that point. Mr. Page forgot to shut the lights off when he left. Sonny probably arrived around ten o’clock or possibly a little later, and carried Bradshaw’s body to the pool, placing it in the water. The murder had to occur sometime between the time Page left and Sonny arrived. We can give a rough estimate of somewhere between nine and nine-thirty p.m.”

“Maybe Sonny killed Mr. Bradshaw,” Martha Rhoades said.

“Then who killed Sonny?”

Her eyes burned with unnatural brightness; she was finding it hard to control her hostility. “There are other possibilities.”

“Such as?”

“One of my lifeguards could have been careless with the keys. An intruder might have walked in.”

“Should I question them about it?”

“Do what you like.” She folded up another chair.

“Sonny received a phone call from a woman claiming to be April Nevins. The woman told him Bradshaw was dead. That was confirmed by Mrs. Blake. The woman asked Sonny to go to the club and place the body in the pool.”

“There, you see? You have your real murderer! April Nevins killed Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Only one problem with that: she’s got a good alibi. She was working at the time of the murder. There are witnesses.”

“What about Mrs. Walling? She could have made that phone call. She’s already confessed to killing Mr. Bradshaw. It seems logical that she might have coaxed Sonny into finishing the job for her and then killed him to protect herself. There. I do believe I’ve solved the murder for you.” She seemed pleased with herself.

“Except that Mrs. Walling thought Bradshaw was already dead. Then there’s still the matter of the lights. You said they were on when you passed the club around midnight. That’s what drew you to come inside. You did say that?”

“Of course I did, and they were on.” Her lips narrowed into a long, sharp line.

“And so you went into the club to shut off the lights. You told us that you found the gates locked.”

“That’s correct.”

“Then you saw Bradshaw’s body in the pool.”

“You know all of that.”

“You told me yourself Sonny always shut off the lights. It was an automatic part of the routine. Yet you say you found the lights on. Let me tell you what I think, Miss Rhoades. I believe that you did find the lights on, but not at midnight like you claim. I think you came by a lot earlier, saw the lights on and went inside to check. You found Bradshaw, quarreled with him and killed him. Then you phoned Sonny pretending to be April and had him dispose of the body for you. Later you returned, put on the lights again and phoned us.”

“That’s absurd!”

“Is it?”

“Why would I do such a thing? I hardly knew the man.”

“When you checked the utility room, Bradshaw must have been stirring and in a mean mood. What happened then?”

She raised her chin and set her jaw firmly. “I don’t intend to say anything. You can’t prove your suppositions are factual. I had no motive for killing Mr. Bradshaw or Sonny. Unless you plan to arrest me, please leave these premises.” Although her look was fierce, her hands and voice trembled. She diverted her gaze from them back to the beckoning aqua waters of the Olympic-sized swimming pool.

“You’d be better off confessing,” Bert said in an emotionless voice. “We’ll nail you anyway.”

“I am going to call an attorney if you persist in harassing me. All you can possibly have is circumstantial evidence. It will never hold up in a courtroom if I choose to deny it, which I do.”

“Mrs. Blake heard your dog barking when you phoned pretending to be April. Then there’s the matter of how neat and clean the floor of the utility room was. You’re the only one who would pick up Bradshaw’s cigarette butts and wash the blood from the floor. Also, Sonny’s paycheck was in his pocket when we found his body. You lied when you told us he didn’t come here for it. You had to be the last person he saw before he died.” Gardner was at his best, but Martha Rhoades wasn’t yielding.

“All circumstantial. Not real proof.”

She began to walk away from them and Gardner had to wonder if Martha wasn’t right. Sure, they had evidence, but would it be strong enough to convince a jury? Were they going to be able to prove their case beyond a reasonable doubt?

* * * *

Kim walked into the utility shed. Something drew her to the crime scene. The door stood wide open. Some of the chaises were stored inside. But no one else was there. She walked around, feeling surrounded by a sense of
otherness.
She felt dizzy. It was as if the room was spinning. She was out of the present moment. And then the vision came to her. She knew now exactly what had happened here, and the knowledge made her shudder. She felt sick.

It occurred to Kim that there was a way to force a confession out of Martha Rhoades. Mike couldn’t do it, wouldn’t understand how. But it could be done, although it wouldn’t be easy. She returned to his side.

“Mike, I need to have a word with Bert.” He nodded his head, a questioning expression on his intelligent, handsome face. Still, he asked nothing. She appreciated the fact that he trusted her

“Bert, I believe I know what Martha Rhoades is trying to hide. I think you are more likely to get a confession than Mike.” She explained her theory as Bert and Mike listened.

“You’re sure of this?” Bert asked.

“Fairly certain,” Kim said with conviction.

Bert turned to Mike with a questioning look.

“Kim has insight,” he said. “She senses things other people miss.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a try,” Bert said.

Moments later, Bert walked in front of Martha Rhoades, blocking her path, her expression grim with determination. Martha Rhoades tried to move around her, but Bert clamped a strong hand on the other woman’s arm.

“What are you doing? How dare you touch me!”

Bert took hold of Martha Rhoades and forced her to turn in the direction of Beth, the female lifeguard. “It’ll come out at the trial. Everyone’s going to know unless you play it straight with us now.”

Ms. Rhoades gasped and gave them a horrified look. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Martha sagged, her self-composure suddenly faltering.

“Let’s walk over there, and I’ll ask your friend right out if the two of you are in a lesbian relationship. Newspapers love that kind of juicy story.”

“You’re threatening me?” Her voice was shrill and loud.

The lifeguards turned to listen. Beth came toward them. Martha Rhoades lowered her voice, her face flushed. “You can’t do something like that. It would kill my mother. For God’s sake, she’s an invalid. That kind of publicity would bring on another stroke. You’d destroy her.”

“We could make sure the newspapers never pick up on your relationship with a student. It wouldn’t be easy, but with a full confession, we’d see to it. You have our promise we’ll protect your reputation and help you work a deal if you cooperate.”

Ms. Rhoades nodded her head in a defeated manner. Kim was impressed. Bert had managed to persuade Martha to confess with very little difficulty. She was good at her job. As if to prove the truth of that, Bert immediately began to advise Ms. Rhoades of her rights.

“In keeping with the l966 Supreme Court decision in Miranda vs. Arizona, we are not permitted to ask you any questions until you are warned of your right to counsel and your privilege against self-incrimination. You have the right to remain silent; do you understand that?”

Ms. Rhoades nodded her head abjectly.

“You are not obliged to answer any police questions. Is that also understood? If you do answer any questions, the answers may be used as evidence against you. You have the right to consult with an attorney before or during police questioning. Now we’re going to drive you down to headquarters, and you can give us a formal statement there.”

“Must I?” Martha Rhoades was staring into Bert’s eyes.

Bert assured her of the necessity.

“There isn’t much to tell, not really. I never meant to harm the man. I hardly knew him. I was out walking Caesar, just as I said. As we passed the club, I observed that the lights were on. I entered to investigate. Then I heard the noises coming from the shed, just as you thought. I was a bit frightened, but Caesar was with me, so I went ahead and checked on what was causing the disturbance. I found Mr. Bradshaw groping around and turned on the light. He was behaving peculiarly. He raised himself up and tried to stand but couldn’t at first. The manner in which he moved and the way his speech was slurred, I thought at first he was drunk. Then I saw the head wound and assumed he’d fallen in a drunken stupor and injured himself. He asked for my help, but when he started to retch, I became disgusted and told him just what I thought of his behavior.