THE FOURTH WATCH (12 page)

I LEFT THE FILE WHERE I FOUND
IT
on the conference room table and
stopped at Matte's office on my way out. He was sitting behind his
desk scowling at a stack of paper work and drinking coffee. He
transferred the scowl to me.

“
I guess the reason you didn't
want me to see the file was that you didn't want me to learn any of
the departments secret investigation techniques." I
said.

He drummed his fingers on the desktop as he
looked at me.

"Were you watching me do that'?"

"What'?"

"Drum my fingers, all deep in
thought'?"

He looked down at his hand. "What the fuck are
you talking about'?"

I could tell he didn't like my humor, so I
decided to move on. "Why didn't you just tell me that you guys
screwed up and never considered the possibility that you had a
homicide on your hands?"

“
Is that what you got from that
file?"

''That you guys screwed up, or that you have a
homicide on your hands'?"

Matte shook his big head and smirked at me.
"You think you know what the fuck goes on out there. What, 'cause
you went to Law School? These guys see bodies all the time. Not
just when someone gets popped, or ends up in the trunk of a car or
fries from the inside out from a hot load of needle juice. People
call the cops for everything. When someone finally dies after a
long battle with cancer, or when someone has a heart attack or dies
at home one of a hundred other ways, or when car accidents happen
or even sometimes when somebody drowns in their fuckin' pool." He
hadn't raised his voice much but his face was showing temperature.
"You don't know jack-shit, Kato. You wouldn't know a fuckin'
homicide from a bromide. You're second-guessing my guys because
they didn't dot every i and cross every t on something that a blind
man could see in a nano-second was accidental drowning. Take your
O.J. bullshit and stick it up your ass and get the fuck out of my
Police Station."

I smiled at him, and then I picked up my
briefcase and slung the strap over my shoulder. "You know, you're
right. I'm just a two-bit hack court appointed lawyer that's never
seen a dead man wasn't in a suit in a velvet box. And I may not
know jack-shit, Matte, but I know that you guys have got to be some
kind of stupid to play it fast and loose with the death of one of
the richest guys in the state. And I learned enough in law school
to know that its piss poor police work not to make some kind of
report on the presence of or lack of evidence at an accidental
death scene. And I know that somebody should have asked where the
dead guy's wife was that night and that if they did ask they should
have wrote it down somewhere. What I don't know is why a police
lieutenant was the first guy on the scene on this thing at
six-fifteen in the morning, but I do know that this isn't your
Police Station, you just work here, you're a fucking public
servant."

7

ON THE LAST DAY OF
AUGUST
, at two o'clock in the afternoon, I
called Carolyn Whorley at the number she had written on the back of
my business card. A man picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Carolyn in?" I asked the
voice.

"Urn, hold on a second," he said, and then
almost as an after-thought, "Can I tell her who is
calling?"

"Michael Knight."

"Okay, wait a minute," there was no
recognition in his voice. The phone clattered as he put it down. I
heard him call her name and then after a pause I heard him say,
''telephone,'' another pause, and then, "Michael
Knight."

There was a lengthy silence, and then I heard
the phone scrape and clatter, as it was picked up.
''Hello?''

"Hi."

''Hi, to you Mike," she sounded a little
breathless.

"Did I get you off the trampoline or
something?"

I could sense her smile. ''No, I was just
coming up from the barn when Teddy told me you were on the
line."

"Don't any of you rich people work?" I said,
"What the heck is Teddy doing home at 2:00 in the afternoon in the
middle of the week?"

She laughed. "Well, the answer is no and yes.
I don't work, but Teddy does. He has to run Daddy's company, but I
think he's playing golf this afternoon."

"Sounds like no and no to me."

"You're just jealous, Mike. So, what's
up?"

She was right about the jealous part. "Well, I
went to the police department the other day and went through their
file."

''They let you see it."

"Yes," I said, "but only after I showed them
my muscles."

“
Oh gosh, I hope you didn't have
to use them!"

''One look and they escorted me to the file
room. I think they were terrified!"

“
Hmm...” she said, and then the
laughter went out of her voice. "What did the file say?"

"It says that your father hit his head when he
fell near the swimming pool and drowned accidentally. The autopsy
report says the same thing in bigger words."

She was quiet on the other end of the line. I
sat with her in silence for a while.

"Carolyn? You there?

"Yes, sorry."

"That's alright. Hey, where were you the night
your father died?"

"Me?” she said.

"Yeah, the police file said that you were out
somewhere and came home around twelve-fifteen, twelve-thirty. That
would make you the last person up in the house, unless your dad was
around."

"I think that's right," she said.

"Where were you?'

She paused for a half beat, then she said: "I
had a date."

"Where'd ya go?"

"We went to Mariano's for dinner at around
nine o'clock and then stopped up at The Sole for a
drink."

"Who was your date?"

"Mike ... ?" 1 could feel her frowning, the
cone of silence descending.

"What?"

"I don't know ... why are you asking me all
this."

I sighed. "Well you see Carolyn, it’s like
this, I'm really an investigative reporter for True Romance
Magazine and I'm doing a story about the love lives of the rich and
famous and ... "

"No, come on Mike, really, do you think I had
something to do with my Father’s death or something?"

I laughed at that. "Carolyn, right now I don't
think anyone had anything to do with your Father’s death, but if I
did, it wouldn't be you." I stopped and gathered my thoughts for a
minute. "Look," I said, "I went over to the police station and I
went through their file. It was a lousy file, but at this point I'm
not reading anything sinister into that. It looks like your father
probably drowned in the pool the way that they think he did, but
there are loose ends that I'm going to try and tie up before I just
jump to the same conclusion. Like, if the time of death was between
ten and two, like the autopsy report suggests, and you were up
until one and didn't see or hear anything, then maybe the time of
death is one to two. See what I mean? I don't know what that would
tell me even if it turned out to be true, but it's a question. Like
where was your father that night? Like where was his wife the next
morning ... "

"She was away in Europe ... Paris I think ...
" she told me.

"Well good, but you see, it’s just a question,
Like this one: Who were you on a date with that night?"

"Alright, Mike," she said, as if I'd scolded
her or something. ''His name is Adam. Adam Lynch. He's a bartender
at Torrid Tymes." I wrote down his name, and the name of the
upscale bar on Main Street where he worked. I'd been
there.

''The night club on North Main," I
said.

"Yes, I go in there now and then with friends,
you know, and he just asked me out one time. He was kind of nice I
thought, so I said okay, and that was the night we went
out."

"Okay," I said, feeling a little guilty for
prying. "Did you have a good time?"

"No, actually I didn't. He got wasted during
dinner and basically kidnapped me to the Sole. I was ready to go
home by ten o'clock. I tried to be nice. When I finally agreed to
stop for a nightcap, I told him that it was absolutely going to be
for only one drink. After one drink I threatened to call a cab if
he didn't take me home. I should have called the cab anyway because
he was drunk. I'm afraid of being in the car when a drunk is
driving. It was very uncomfortable."

''I'm sorry," I said.

"He called me later ... you know ... after the
funeral and all that. I think he wanted to apologize or something."
She was quiet again.

"Did you talk to him?"

“
No.”

"Okay. Thanks," I said. "Listen, Carolyn. I
want you to do something for me."

"Sure," she said.

"Do you know a guy named Jed Archer that works
at Loading Dock?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said and I could hear that frown in
her voice again, "He's like the head of purchasing or something,
why?"

''Do you know him well enough to call him for
me?”

"Well ... no ... not really ... but I'm sure
he'll take my call."

"Good. Just tell him that I'm going to be
calling him to set up a time to meet. You tell him whatever you
want about our relationship, but just suggest that he cooperate
with me, alright?"

"Okay." I could tell she wanted to ask me what
I wanted to talk to him about, but she didn't. ''Do you want me to
just have Teddy tell him?"

"Well, I don't know. Have you told Teddy that
you have me looking into your Father’s death yet?"

She paused. ''I see what you mean."

"Well he's gonna find out sooner or later. At
the very latest when I show up to talk to him."

She laughed at that. "Well I'll decide about
that. But either way, Mr. Archer will be expecting your
call."

"Thank you."

"Anything you need, Mike. I'm sorry I gave you
a hard time about Adam."

“
That's okay. I'm going to be
talking to him too you know," I said.

"Oh," she said a little uncertainly, ''well
... okay, but don't tell him that I said, you know ... that he was
... "

"A dip-shit?" I offered.

"Well...yeah." I could feel her smiling
again.

"Okay. Hey listen, Carolyn, one more thing,
about that check you gave me ... "

''It didn't bounce did it?" She was kidding.
My guess was that Whorley checks didn't bounce.

''No. It’s just that we never talked about
what you are paying me, you know, like how much an hour and like
that? It's kind of required that lawyers have an agreement with
their clients on stuff like that."

She laughed. "Well whatever. What do you
usually charge?"

''I don't know, how does one-fifty an hour
sound?"

"Sounds cheap. Are you a cheap lawyer Mike, or
are you giving me a discount?"

"Well, one-fifty and hour plus expenses of
course," I said indignantly.

"Of course," she said and I could picture her
beautiful face smirking at the other end of the line. ''I wouldn't
have it any other way. I want your best work."

''Naturally,'' I said.

"That sounds fine to me. One-fifty an hour,
plus expenses. Send me something to sign if you want."

"Well, we'll see. Thanks, Carolyn."

"Thank you, Mike," she said.

''I'll see ya," I said and hung up the
phone.

*****

I TRIED TO DO SOME PAPERWORK
after my phone call with Carolyn Whorley, but it
was no good. She had a nice voice, like Annie's. A tease and a
smile and ... sadness. Not that Annie's voice had any sadness in
it. I imagined sadness into it now that she was gone, but it was
all my sadness. I knew that if she had sadness in her voice, it
would sound the same as Carolyn's.

I went to the window and looked down onto the
street. There was a bum working the comer. He had on a green army
jacket over a plaid flannel shirt, tan Desert Storm style
camouflage pants and work boots. The temperature outside had to be
close to ninety. I could almost smell him from here.

Bums are territorial. I knew this guy, and
could set my watch by him. He came to this comer at 7:30 every
morning. From that vantage point he could work Mechanic Street and
Norwich Street during the morning rush. Brace everyone as they made
their way to work in the various office buildings that populated
both streets. At about 8:15am he'd wander over and start working
the shopping center between the parking garage and the north
entrance. Then at 10:00ish he'd head up to Main Street and patrol
the sidewalk in front of Dunkin' Donuts. Harass the secretaries
making their mid-morning coffee run for their bosses. Maybe grab a
cup of Joe of his own, when business died down. But he’d be
standing tall at City Hall Plaza to cover the lunch shifts. The
bums are thick as gnats on a bull’s ass over there during lunch
hour. You had the bus stop on Main; Front Street, where the smaller
Mid-Town mall spilled its treasure of shoppers and diners out onto
the sidewalk; both entrances to City Hall; the reflecting pool,
that was surrounded by benches where folks sometimes went to have
their lunch in peace on a nice day; and the west entrance of the
shopping center, which gets a lot of executive traffic heading to
the Food Court. A guy walking from his office on Franklin Street,
across the back of City Hall to the west entrance could easily be
accosted a half dozen times each way. After lunch, this guy here
would freelance a few spots, kind of troll up Main Street to the
courthouse, with a line in the water, see what he could scare up,
but he’d be back on this comer before three o’clock and work it
ferociously until five-thirty. That's when his Rolls comes to get
him and take him to his helicopter for the ride to his place out on
Nantucket. Jack thinks I'm cynical and without compassion, Walter
tells me I don't know the half of it, and thinks I'm a sap because
I occasionally throw a little coin at a guy if I don't recognize
him as a regular. I like to think of myself as a compassionate
conservative.