Death in Deep Water Page 7

  An image flashed through my mind. Hanley’s white face under the blanket. “Oh damn, now I remember.”

  The EMT got serious again. “That’s good, because some people are real anxious to talk to you. Here, hold this ice pack in place.” He took my hand and placed it on a cold lump growing out of the side of my head. I turned. A uniformed policeman sat in a folding metal chair next to the door.

  The EMT went over to the cop. I heard low murmurings, then they both left and a man wearing civilian clothes came in. He was around five-foot-eight, with a wide-shouldered blocky torso, put together in a series of rectangles. Squarely built body, a Fearless Fosdick jaw, made even more rectangular by the downward droop of his thin mustache, black hair trimmed in a sharply angled shovel cut over his wide forehead, square pattern to his tan glen-plaid sports coat. Even the tinted wire-rim glasses framing his dead-looking eyes had four sides.

  His cruel mouth curled into a grin. “Hello, Socarides. Long time no see.”

  “Hello, Detective Pacheco.”

  “Good, you remember me.”

  “How could I forget?” I said. “You’re wearing the same clothes.”

  “I’m still impressed, Socarides. It’s been over two years since you and that creep dope peddler were standing outside the Barnstable courthouse having a good laugh at my expense. Remember, I came over and said you’d better watch your step because someday you were going to mess up and I’d be there to cut your balls off?” He moved his fingers as if he were holding an invisible pair of scissors. “Guess what?” he said.

  I struggled to sit up. The effort made me dizzy and sick to my stomach. Someone was bowling tenpins between my ears and just got a strike. The pain must have shown on my face because Pacheco smiled. He didn’t help me, but he didn’t push me down, either. I had to give him that.

  I forced words out, one by one, trying to keep him in focus. “The creep you’re talking about would have gotten off even if he was guilty, big shot. The assistant DA said it was the sloppiest police work he’d ever seen. You’re lucky you weren’t put in jail for perjury.”

  Pacheco grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me forward.

  “You lying son of a bitch,” he snarled. “He got off on a technicality because you brought in that shit evidence at the last minute.”

  If Pacheco kept shaking me, he’d get a load of vomit right between the eyes. I must have turned green, because he let me go. He dragged a metal chair over, and moved it around to straddle it. He leaned back and let his sports jacket fall open so I could see the butt of his pistol sticking out of the belt holster and be frightened to death.

  “You’re in trouble, Socarides. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He tallied the charges on his fingers. “First, a clear-cut case of murder one. Then there’s assault and battery on an officer. Two counts. And resisting arrest. That little rowboat you stole was worth a couple of hundred bucks. Grand larceny.” He paused; he had forgotten something. “Oh yeah. Trespassing. I might drop that one on a plea bargain.”

  Pacheco was too busy playing judge and jury to notice the tall man who stood in the doorway. I raised an eyebrow and the newcomer put his finger to his lips.

  “You forgot to charge me with creating a nuisance,” I said.

  The detective’s hand shot forward and bunched the front of my shirt again.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, scumbag. I don’t take advice from killers.”

  “Do you take it from other cops?” the tall man said.

  Pacheco whirled and glared at the man, who had taken a couple of steps into the room.

  “Because if you do,” the man added, “I’d recommend that you read this guy his Miranda rights and stop mauling him.”

  “Parmenter, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  The man came in and stood beside Pacheco, dwarfing him. “I was at the barracks on assignment with the drug unit. We picked up the call and it sounded like a dope bust.”

  “This has nothing to do with the state cops. You’re out of your jurisdiction, Captain.”

  “Christ, I know that, Detective Pacheco. Don’t mind me. I just wanted to see how a pro conducts an interrogation.”

  Pacheco turned back to me. “Okay, Socarides,” he growled. “What were you doing on that boat?”

  I brushed the wrinkles out of the shirt. “Phil Hanley asked me to meet him there.”

  “What for?”

  “It had to do with a case I’m working on.”

  “What kind of case?”

  I could hear myself saying, “You’re not going to believe this detective, but I’ve been hired to clear a whale of a murder charge.” Pacheco would probably shoot me, due process or not, just for general smart-assedness. Even without the zany story, I would have kept my mouth shut. I don’t like to tell my client’s business to anyone, cops included, but I’d cooperate if somebody talked to me the right way. Which Pacheco wasn’t doing.

  “I’m working for the people who own Oceanus marine theme park. If they want to tell you what I’m doing, it’s up to them, but I don’t talk without permission.”

  Pacheco was a throwback to a time cops could do anything they wanted, beat the crap out of a guy, rupture his spleen, and say he did it falling down the stairs. He was itching to work me over. He glanced at the tall man, who was chewing on a toothpick.

  “Okay, statie. Any other big ideas?”

  “Yeah. Stop trying to browbeat a confession out of the gentleman. Either arrest him or let him go.”

  Pacheco gagged on that one. “I can’t let him go. He killed someone and attacked the cops who tried to arrest him.”

  “What about that, Mr. Suspect?” Parmenter said.

  “Detective Pacheco’s got a great imagination, but that’s all it is. I had an appointment to meet Hanley. I found his body and was calling for help on the marine radio when I heard someone coming aboard. I thought it might be the murderers coming back, maybe to get rid of the body. I grabbed a gaff. It was dark. I couldn’t see who they were. Nobody said they were cops. I started swinging.”

  Parmenter turned to Pacheco. “Did you find a gun?”

  “Naw. Maybe he threw it overboard. We’ll have divers look for it.”

  “What about motive?”

  “We just got into this case a couple of hours ago, Parmenter.”

  “Then I’d be inclined to believe the man’s story unless you’ve got evidence to the contrary.”

  “No one asked your opinion.”

  “That’s true, but I’m giving it anyhow, because I don’t like to see incompetent cop work that puts innocent people behind bars and lets guilty ones get away. You’re going to lose this case before you begin if you violate this man’s rights. I forgot to mention, Mr. Socarides’ lawyer would like to sit in while you question his client.”

  A man in a suit stepped into the room. His tie was loose around his neck and the collar unbuttoned. I had never seen him before.

  Pacheco was stunned. “A lawyer? Where the hell did he come from?”

  I was asking myself the same question. Pacheco was wavering. Parmenter saw the breach and jumped in.

  “This is just a suggestion, Detective. Forget the attack on your cops. They should have announced they were coming aboard. I might have taken a swing at them myself if I had been in the same predicament, having just found a dead man, out there all by myself. So far, all you know is that he was on the boat. I’m sure the cops in his town will give him a good recommendation. I can vouch for him personally. Call it a night, give him a chance to clear his head, and get him to come in tomorrow to make a statement. In the meantime, check around to see if anybody heard him on the radio. A murderer wouldn’t call for help. If things don’t jive, arrest him, arraign him, and ask for a million dollars in bail.”

  Pacheco wasn’t the smartest cop in the world, but he knew he was getting into l
egal waters that were over his head. He nodded. “Okay, Parmenter. Your ass is on the line if he doesn’t show.” He pointed his finger at me. “Eight o’clock tomorrow morning at the police station.”

  I remembered Oceanus. “I have to be somewhere around eight. Can we make it around seven A.M.?”

  He slowly rose from his chair, glowering.

  “Seven. Be there,” he grunted, and stormed toward the door.

  “Detective,” I called.

  He stopped at the door and scowled darkly.

  “Can I get my truck tonight without getting picked up again by your boys?”

  “Get it in the morning. It might contain evidence.” Then he was gone.

  Parmenter shook hands with my lawyer without introducing him to me, then came over to the gurney. I sat up with my legs dangling over the side. Parmenter’s hair was grayer than I remembered, but his ruddy face hadn’t aged much. Pacheco tried to look tough. Parmenter was tough without even trying, but the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and his thin lips cushioned the hardness. He had a firm jaw, a straight nose just a little too long for his round face, and intense hazel eyes. I always thought he looked like Gene Hackman. He shook my hand. His grip was warm and strong.

  “Am I glad to see you, John. Where did I get a lawyer?”

  Parmenter took the toothpick out of his mouth and flicked it into a corner. “I heard you were here from one of Pacheco’s guys,” he said, grinning. “I know how the lieutenant works.” He jerked a thumb at the door. “I got Freddie out of bed. He’s an old friend of mine. Handles real estate mostly. Probably couldn’t get you off on a barking-dog complaint.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He did the job. What brings you to Cape Cod?”

  “Working with the DA on a drug money laundering case.” He chuckled. “Hell, the last time I was here was to stake out the Mid-Cape flasher. Guy used to run bare-assed in front of cars on Route Six. Some nut exposed himself in the rest area we were watching, and when he saw us, he drove ninety miles an hour and went off the road. Turned out to be the wrong pervert. Never did catch the flasher.” His face grew serious. “You’ve got yourself in a hell of a mess, Soc.”

  “People keep telling me that. How have you been?”

  “Just fine. It’s been tough without Donna, but I’m doing okay. Thanks for your card, by the way.”

  “She was a fine woman, I’m really sorry. It’s been a long time since I saw either one of you.”

  “Jennifer’s funeral.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence, then Parmenter spoke again.

  “I tried to get you a couple of times. After a while I just gave up. Seemed like you didn’t want to talk to me.”

  “I didn’t want to talk to anyone, John.”

  “I was different, Soc. We were almost family.”

  “That’s just it. Jennifer was your daughter. I couldn’t face you.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Soc.”

  “Dammit, she was on her way to my apartment when those kids rammed her car.”

  “That was fate, Soc. You can’t blame yourself. When are you going to stop carrying the guilt for the whole world? Vietnam, the Boston Police Department, your family. You’ve done the same thing with Jennifer.”

  I didn’t give him an answer because there wasn’t any.

  Parmenter saw the discussion was headed nowhere. “Why does Pacheco have such a big crush on you?” he said.

  I picked up the ice pack and pressed it against my head. “Couple of years ago the state hired me to help a public defender trying to keep a kid out of jail on a drug charge. I think Pacheco planted the evidence. I proved the stuff came from a stash the cops had from another dope bust. The judge threw the case out. He would have sent Pacheco away if he could have, but the best he could do was give him a stern lecture. The guy’s been hoping to catch me on something ever since. Whenever I go through this town I drive twenty miles below the speed limit. Which reminds me, can you give me a ride home?”

  Parmenter nodded and helped me off the gurney. I was still dizzy, and top-heavy from the bandage. A half hour later, he dropped me off at the boathouse. A thought occurred to me as I got out of his car.

  “John,” I said, “how did the cops know about Hanley?”

  “Somebody called the station house with a phone tip. Said there was a dead man on a boat and they’d better be careful because the guy who did it might still be there. Those guys aren’t exactly the SWAT team. You’re lucky you didn’t get shot. Any idea who called in?”

  “Yeah, somebody who knew Hanley was dead. I’d like to talk to him.”

  Kojak was waiting for me. He rubbed against my leg and gave me the bad eye. I got out some 9-Lives Prime Grill and gave him the whole can. I tried to tell Kojak what a rough day I’d had, but he was making too much noise wolfing down his food, so I went to bed. With luck, and a handful of Tylenol, I could catch a few Z’s before my first day of work at Oceanus.

  Chapter 8

  Morning arrived much too soon. I crawled out from between the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed, watching a golden eyebrow of sun peek over the Atlantic rim. After a few minutes, I got up and went into the kitchen. I couldn’t fully appreciate the miracle of the new day because my head hurt like hell and my vision swam. I washed more Tylenol down with a cup of black coffee. The pills helped blunt the pain and the coffee woke me up and brought my eyes back into focus. I called Sam and asked him for a ride to my truck. Then I cut the bandage off my head. The bruise was ugly and purple, but it wasn’t visible under the hair. My face was another matter. It looked as if it had been soaked in fabric softener.

  Sam arrived a few minutes later and sat at the kitchen table, puffing meditatively on his pipe. Normally he’s too polite to ask questions about my mornings-after, but he couldn’t restrain his curiosity.

  “Hard night, Soc?”

  “You could say that. I’ll tell you on the way to my truck.”

  On the ride to Bass River, I laid out the details of the case, starting with the call from Shaughnessy. I was telling him about my arrest just as we pulled into the windmill parking lot.

  Sam shook his head. “Always liked this spot,” he said. “Too bad somebody had to spoil it by killing that poor fella.” He furrowed his brow. “Be careful, Soc. This whole thing smells worse than a week-old pile of scallop gurry.”

  “I’ll look both ways before I cross the street,” I said, getting out of the pickup. “Call you later to check on the boat, Sam. Thanks for the ride.”

  I walked over to my pickup. The floor was immaculate. Pacheco’s boys probably dusted my empty Coke cans and Styrofoam coffee cups for prints. Hanley’s boat was no longer at its mooring. I drove to a marina off River Street. The Mariah was tied up to the dock. A couple of cruisers and a car from the county identification office were parked nearby. I swung through the parking lot without stopping. I didn’t want to be seen by some badge who still thinks a criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. At seven A.M. on the nose I walked into the police station to see Pacheco.

  The front-desk cop showed me to Pacheco’s office. The lieutenant sat behind his desk flanked by two uniformed cops. He gestured to a hard wooden chair placed directly in front of him.

  “Okay,” he said. “Spill it, from start to finish.”

  I sat down, crossed my legs, and walked Pacheco through the day before. I told him about talking to Mrs. Hanley, her husband’s phone call to me, and the invitation to meet on his boat.

  Pacheco slouched slightly in his chair, chin on his chest, his arms folded looking up at me from under dark eyebrows. Occasionally a uniform politely asked for a clarification. One cop kept notes. I described finding the body and my attempt to radio for help. “You know the rest,” I said. “Questions?”

  The two cops had plenty of them. Not once did they get angry or threatening, and they always called
me sir. I took them through the story again from top to bottom and bottom to top, knowing they were looking for inconsistencies.

  Forty-five minutes later, they asked me to wait outside. I chatted with the front-desk officer about striped-bass fishing. Before long the door to Pacheco’s office opened. The uniforms came out. One said Pacheco wanted to talk to me. I went inside and sat in the chair again.

  “I talked to Dan Austin,” Pacheco said. “He confirmed you were working for Oceanus.” He glowered at me. “The radio story checks out, too. Couple of people at the fire department heard you.”

  “So you’re through with me?”

  “I didn’t say that, Socarides. You figure it. You’re a smart boy. I don’t have enough evidence at this time to hold you. But this investigation is only beginning. I just know that you’ll be back here for another visit.”

  “In case somebody asks me, what was my motive?”

  “Could be anything. Money. Revenge. Jealousy. Hanley had a cute little wife, maybe we’ll find out you were playing the stud with her. Her hubby didn’t like it, so you took him out. Maybe we’ll find there’s a big insurance policy on him.” He smiled. “Maybe there was dope involved.”

  My head was throbbing. I got up. “Maybe it’s time for me to blow this pop joint.”

  “Not just yet.”

  I glanced at the wall clock. “Okay, but make it fast.”

  “I’m filing a complaint with the commissioner of public safety. I’m going for revocation of your PI license.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Withholding information necessary to a murder investigation.”

  “You can do better than that.”

  “I intend to. In the meantime, you’re still a witness and we can call you in for further questioning.”

  I pushed my way out of the office, wished the front-desk guy good fishing, and stopped for coffee at a Dunkin Donuts. Talking to Pacheco left a bad taste in my mouth and I wanted to wash it away.