Take a Dive for Murder (10 page)

Carrie parked her car on the lot at Pier Eight. She figured this would put her midway between the Admiral’s Saloon
and Pier Seven. She also parked at Pier Eight because she wanted her first impressions of Pier Seven to be in the dark, the way Jamie would have viewed it the night he went into the water.

It had rained earlier in the day, which would make the pier and the harbor area also resemble the night that
Jamie was murdered. The rain left the night feeling cold and damp, and Carrie was glad she wore a black turtleneck and a matching black crew neck sweater with her black slacks. The night air also made her realize how hungry she was. She had not eaten since breakfast, so the Admiral’s Saloon would serve two purposes for her.

The saloon was located in an old warehouse, which at the turn of the century housed ship
s’ cargo. The outside of the building was highlighted by a neon sign featuring a ship’s admiral with a tri-corner hat and an eye patch that changed colors from blue to orange to green. Inside the front door was a large waiting area with high-back wooden benches for the crowds waiting for tables. That night the seats in the waiting area were empty, as patrons were being handled as they arrived. To the left of the waiting area, through wooden French doors, was a long U-shaped bar. On the one side of the bar was a movable glass wall that enlarged the bar space into the main eating area for the late-night drinking crowds.

In the center of the first floor was a huge circular salad bar, with a vast assortment of hot and cold selections. Surrounding the salad bar were tables of various sizes and hugging the outer walls were booths.

Carrie was seated at a table on the loft level overlooking the eating area and the massive salad bar below. The surrounding walls displayed paintings of sailing ships and harbor scenes. Carrie was looking at the picture nearest her table when a young lanky waiter in his early twenties, with long, dark hair, approached her table.

“Hi, my name is Ben, and I’ll be your waiter tonight.”
His voice was friendly and upbeat as he presented her with a plank of wood listing the restaurant’s entrées.

Keeping with the spirit of the place, Carrie said, “Hello, Ben. My name is Carrie, and I’ll be your diner for tonight. Got anything to drink around here?” Carrie gave Ben her best smile.

Ben smiled back, knowing he had someone who would be fun to serve. “I doubt there’s a drink on this earth we can’t make. What’s your pleasure?”

“I don’t want anything too exotic
. How about a glass of white zinfandel?”

“Let me get your drink while you review the menu.”

When Ben returned with her drink, he bumped into her table, almost spilling the wine.

“Ouch, that hurts,” he said. “I go home most nights with bruises. I’m constantly bumping into these tables, and they are very heavy.”

“They are incredibly solid. Why don’t you sit for a minute until the pain eases?” Carrie offered.

Ben looked around for signs of management and then accepted her offer. He sat down and began rubbing his leg as he gave Carrie some history about the restaurant.

“Before this place became a restaurant, it was a bar for sailors. There was a tendency for bar room brawls and the furniture would get broken. To solve the problem, the saloon owners made the tables extra heavy.”

“That was thoughtful of them,” she said, smiling. “I can’t imagine trying to pick one of these wooden tables up to throw at someone.” Carrie realized she had left her glasses back at the Faraday home
and would never be able to see the fine print on the menu. “Speaking of wood, what would you recommend from this menu?”

Ben looked her over. “Do you eat meat?”

“Absolutely! Why do you ask?”

“These days, with all the diets and cholesterol concerns, some people want to avoid meat and just eat from the salad bar. But if you like meat,
I’d recommend the petite filet and a trip to the salad bar. The meat is so tender it rivals the best steakhouses in TriCity. And if you can’t find side dishes you like on our salad bar then you probably shouldn’t be eating out at a restaurant,” He said with the authority of someone who had made this comment many times.

“Then that’s what I’ll have.”

Ben smiled and seemed pleased that she accepted his recommendation.

“Before you get my order,
I’ve another question. Were you working the night that Jamie Faraday died?”

He looked at her suspiciously and asked, “Hey, you a cop?”

“Do I look like a cop? Actually, I’m an old friend of the victim. He asked me to investigate his death if it was in any way suspicious.”

“You’re saying, like
, he knew he was going to die?” asked Ben. “Wow, that’s creepy.”

“It would seem that way, but so far all the evidence seems to point to accidental drowning. That’s why I thought
I’d check out the scene myself. Did the police interview you? I saw in the newspaper that several people from the saloon were interviewed.”

“No, I wasn’t interviewed.” He sounded annoyed. “I’m not a manager who likes to get his name in the paper, if you know what I mean.” Ben saw the disappointment in Carrie’s face and quickly added, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know things. I served Mr. Faraday dinner the night that he drowned.”

Ben looked around and suddenly jumped up. The manager was approaching the table.

“Is there a problem, Ben?”

Carrie piped in. “Not at all. Ben bumped his knee on the table, and I suggested he sit for a moment to ease the pain. He has been telling me about the history of the restaurant, plus making some wonderful menu suggestions.”

“Thanks for letting me sit,
ma’am. I’ll get your order started,” Ben responded with a wink as he moved away.

“What a nice young man,” Carrie said. “Friendly service, that’s what makes a good restaurant, not just good food.”

“Yes, Ben is one of our best. If you need anything, just let me know. I’m Mr. Kensington, the manager. Enjoy your meal.”

Carrie saw what Ben meant by Kensington wanting to be the center of attention. He wandered around the loft, letting every table know he was the manager.

She made two trips to the salad bar, and when her steak arrived, she ate her meal alone without the opportunity to talk further with Ben. At the end of the meal, when Carrie was enjoying her coffee, Mr. Kensington finally went downstairs to open the glass wall to enlarge the bar. The minute Kensington was downstairs, Ben slipped back to her table.

“So where were we?” Ben asked brightly, as if no time had elapsed in their conversation.

“You were telling me you served Jamie Faraday the night he died.”

“Yes
. In fact, he ate the same thing you did.” Carrie imagined quite a few of Ben’s customers enjoyed his recommended selection.

“Did you talk with him?” prodded Carrie.

“Just polite chit-chat, but he seemed to be a real nice guy, and he was a good tipper. That’s why I remember him.”

“That sounds very uneventful. Is there anything else you remember that was out of the ordinary?”

Ben looked over his shoulder for the second time that night to see if anyone was listening. “I think he was planning on meeting someone. I can tell when people are deliberately lingering, and toward the end of the meal, he was definitely delaying his departure. Finally, when we were closing off the loft, he went down to the bar. That’s when he had the conversation with the bartender about swimming. You know, the one quoted in the paper.”

Carrie nodded her head. “Aside from the bartender, was he talking to anyone else at the bar?”

“Not that I saw, but I noticed one more thing. After I finished serving dinners on the loft, I went down to help with the bar crowd. A couple of times when I picked drinks up from the bar, I noticed Mr. Faraday looking at his watch. Then around eleven-thirty, he suddenly paid his bar bill and left. I thought that was unusual because he had just ordered a fresh drink.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“A man was on the pay phone by the door. Just as Mr. Faraday was leaving, that man left, too, but that could have been a coincidence.”

“Can you describe the man on the phone?”

“He was a small man dressed in jeans and a dark jacket, but I only saw his back. That’s why I didn’t say anything to the police. What I saw may not have been related to Mr. Faraday, and, besides, I couldn’t identify this guy. Do you think it was important?”

“I don’t know, but the fact
you’re telling me means you thought it was worth remembering.”

“Maybe Mr. Faraday just decided he had enough to drink and it was time to go. Or maybe based on the conversation with the bartender, he got the urge to go for a swim.”

“Or maybe he spotted the person he came to meet,” suggested Carrie. “Ben, you’ve been a great help. I appreciate the meal, the good service, and the information.”

“Where are you going now?” Ben stopped, a little embarrassed by his abrupt question. “I mean, you ought to stick around. We have a nice crowd—not the kids,
but an older group that comes in at this hour for drinks, with lots of singles.”

Carrie wasn’t sure if being associated with an older group was a compliment, but she wondered something else. “How do you know I’m single?”

“The obvious answer is you’re not wearing a ring, but there are other things. You dress very classy, and you’re too relaxed to be worrying about kids or a husband.”

“You are very observant. Thanks for the offer to stay, but I think I’m going to take a look at Pier Seven.”

“You want to go out the main door and head straight for about five hundred yards. Then make a left. His shoes were found at the end of the pier.”

Carrie left a very generous tip for Ben and left the
Admiral’s Saloon.

***

Ben watched Carrie leave and then went to the employee pay phone inside the kitchen. He dialed a number from a slip of paper he kept in his wallet.

“Yeah, it’s Ben from the Admiral’s Saloon. You know how you asked me to call if anyone asked about Faraday
? This lady came in tonight, said her name was Carrie. Says Faraday asked her to investigate his death if it was suspicious… Yeah, sounded kind of spooky. Sure, I can describe her. She’s around five-eight, brown, curly hair, attractive, late forties… No, she’s gone now. Said she’s going out to look at Pier Seven. You’re welcome. Glad I could help. Can I expect a payment like you promised? Great, I’ll pick it up at the bar tomorrow! Thanks a lot.”

Ben felt no guilt about his phone call. After all, he was a struggling college student and needed the money.
He didn’t mind if he earned it from his customers as a tip, or from selling a little information on the side. After all, Carrie got the information she wanted, and so did the caller. Simply sell the truth to anyone who would pay. That was his motto.

Carrie stopped by her car and got her digital camera from the trunk, put her credit card wallet in her pocket, and locked her purse in the car before continuing to Pier Seven. Pier Seven was part of the TriCity harbor reconstruction that was started about fifteen years before. The construction contract was awarded to two different firms who began building simultaneously at opposite ends of the old wharf. Piers One through Five were adjacent to many of the harbor hotels and contained two pavilions of boutiques, specialty stores, restaurants, and souvenir shops. Piers Six through Ten were located in the Federal Point residential area and combined restaurants, stores, and parking with office buildings. Behind these businesses was a neighborhood of turn-of-the-century, renovated townhouses that added a quaint atmosphere to the area. The renewal brought lots of new visitors and residents to the harbor, and business was booming.

The shipyard for merchant vessels that used to be on the Federal Point side of the harbor was moved to the other side of the water. Occasionally sailors would venture over to the tourist side, but the barroom brawls and rowdy behavior of the past were no longer a problem for the city.

Pier Seven extended a good three hundred yards out from the walkway, and Carrie started her walk to the end. Pier extensions at that end of the harbor provided parking for cars or docks for visiting boats, but this night no boats were moored. The dark water was calm, causing only a gentle slapping sound as it lapped against the wooden pier. Toward the end of the pier were two pilings, with the remains of a sagging yellow police tape.

This is the spot
, Carrie thought.

She tried to imagine Jamie standing on this pier his last night on earth. Suddenly Carrie saw what Stephen Beeker meant
: an experienced swimmer like Jamie would have walked out to the end of the pier, not jumped in the water between two pilings. Carrie set her camera and started snapping pictures. She was concentrating on her picture-taking and thinking about the implications of her discovery when she became aware of a figure behind her.

“Morbid curiosity or do you have some reason for being on this pier, in this spot?”

Carrie spun around and faced one of TriCity’s beat cops. He looked to be in his late forties, a little pudgy in the middle, wearing a uniform shiny in spots from too much wear and probably known by every business owner in the area.

“Good evening…” Carrie paused while she read his name tag and then added, “Officer Reynolds. I guess a little of both. I’m a friend of the Faraday family, and I was asked to take a look at facts surrounding Jamie Faraday’s death. So I thought
I’d check out the pier.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a detective? I saw you taking pictures. You look more like a tourist.”

She laughed out loud. “No, I’m not a detective. Actually, I’m a photographer by profession. Since photography is what I know, I thought I’d take some pictures of this spot.”

“And as a friend who’s looking into this case, what makes you think you will come to a different conclusion than the police? No doubt you believe you’ll find some undiscovered evidence and bust the case wide open,” he said with a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“At this point, I don’t believe anything. I’m a big supporter of the police and even went to school with the coroner on this case. In fact, I’m sure my conclusion will be that the death was an unfortunate accident. However, I did promise the family I’d look at all the possibilities.” Carrie spoke in a low, calm tone and then gave Officer Reynolds a gentle smile.

Carrie could see that her answer was the right one, as Officer Reynolds visibly relaxed, and then she asked, “Were you on duty the night of Jamie Faraday’s death?”

“Not only on duty, but I was walking only a five-block beat. There was a big convention in town that night, and we had extra police in the area. We want the tourist experience to be pleasant and safe so they come back.”

“Hey, what about us local folk?” Carrie asked lightly. “We like to be safe.”

“We all benefit if the tourists feel safe. They spend money. That gives the city money for more police, and the locals are protected year-round. It’s a lovely circle.”

“Officer Reynolds, I like your approach.”

He smiled. “Now I guess you want to know if I saw anything unusual that night.”

“I do, but I wanted to ask you a question first. I see the remains of the yellow police tape. How do the police know that’s the spot where Jamie went into the water?”

“See those two pilings?” Officer Reynolds said as he pointed at the wooden structures. “Faraday’s shoes were sitting neatly between the pilings, with a sock draped over each shoe. The investigators believe Faraday sat on the smaller piling and took off his shoes and socks. Then they assumed he most likely dived into the water next to where he placed his shoes.”

“Makes sense to me.” Carrie also realized that the neat placement of the shoes dispelled the alcohol theory. Someone with too much to drink would probably have dumped their shoes haphazardly and not taken their socks off before they went in the water. “What else was happening that night?” prodded Carrie.

“I hate to disappoint you, but about the only thing I saw were people. It had been a dark and stormy afternoon, and no one was around. And then just as quickly as the storm arrived, it was over, and a flood of people appeared on the boardwalk enjoying the shops, restaurants, and bars.”

“What about after the stores and restaurants start
ed to close?”

“People want to get to their cars and go home or get back to their hotels. The crowds disperse just as quickly.”

“How about out on the main streets?”

“The avenues are patrolled by car, and then the cars drive down each of the side streets to the edge of the dock. Foot patrolmen like me walk the docks. Believe it or not, with all those people from the convention, there wasn’t a single incident, not even a drunk and disorderly. That was, until the body of your friend was discovered.”

“Based on what you’ve said about the large crowds, it does seem unbelievable that no one saw anything.”

“Well, fog was coming off the water that night. I walked back and forth many times, and I’ll admit it was difficult to see anything way out…” Officer Reynolds hesitated.

Carrie heard his hesitation. “The fog made it tough to see, but did you hear something?”

Officer Reynolds rubbed his chin as if he was remembering something. He chose his words carefully. “Talking to you reminded me of something I had forgotten.” He looked straight at Carrie. “You seem to be levelheaded, so I hope you won’t blow this little piece of information out of proportion. I did hear something around the time when your friend may have been on the pier. I may have heard a splash.”

“A splash loud enough to be someone diving in the water?”

“I’m not sure about that. I was several hundred feet down the boardwalk. When I got to Pier Seven, I stopped and listened, but I saw nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“You didn’t see the shoes and socks?”

“I didn’t see the shoes and socks because I didn’t come this far out. At that moment one of the shopkeepers called to me. She had the night’s receipts and wanted me to watch as she went to her car. So it was a few minutes before I returned to Pier Seven.”

“You didn’t see anybody in the area?”

“I did see three men about a hundred feet in front of me heading toward the hotel district. They appeared to be overly saturated and helping one another, if you know what I mean. You know, singing a bit and steadying each other as they walked. I
think at the time I thought they might have thrown a bottle in the water, causing the splash.”

“Do you remember what they looked like?”

“The man being helped was well dressed. I remember him because most people who come down here are not in suits with white shirts. Even if they are in town on business, they dress casual for the evening. He had gray hair and was about five-foot-ten. The other two looked like Mutt and Jeff. The one guy was tall about six-foot-three, heavy, and looked like a football player. He was wearing khakis with a dark pullover. The third man was small, about five-foot-six and slight of build. He was dressed in jeans and a dark jacket. Unfortunately, I only saw them from the back and didn’t see their faces.”

Carrie remembered Ben’s description of the man on the phone at the
Admiral’s Saloon
.
Then she turned back to Reynolds. “That’s still a good description. Want a good description, ask a cop.” Reynolds smiled at the compliment. “Were these guys heading toward the hotels?” Carrie pointed with her hand.

“Correct, but that doesn’t mean they were tourists. They could have been locals, heading for one of the uptown parking lots.”

“You haven’t seen them around since that night?”

“I haven’t seen a group of three men helping one another, but
, like I said, I never saw their faces. I might be passing them every day, and I wouldn’t know.”

A silence fell between them, and then Reynolds asked, “Are you planning on telling anyone about what I told you?”

Carrie took his arm as they headed back from the end of the pier to the walkway. “Nothing to tell—probably three tourists who drank too much,” she said.

“I can’t believe I forgot about that incident until now. I’m really good about reporting everything. I mean, I even report when a light is out on the pier.” He stopped and pointed to the one they were passing under. “The night of the Faraday incident, that light was out.”

“This section of the pier was dark that night?” Carrie looked up at a light, which was now burning brightly.

“The light was broken, but with the fog, I’m not sure it would have mattered. I called it in, and maintenance fixed it within a day.” They had reached the end of the pier and were on the walkway.

“It’s been a pleasure talking to you, miss. May I ask your name?”

“Of course
. My name is Carrie Kingsford.” She offered her hand and they shook.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Miss Kingsford. Up until this minute, I believed that Mr. Faraday decided to go for a swim and maybe didn’t realize the water was cold. Or maybe he had too much alcohol for a swim, but in any case it was an unfortunate accident. Now, talking with you, perhaps—and
, mind you, just
perhaps
—there are some other possibilities.”

“That’s why I’m rechecking all the facts. I’m looking at all those other possibilities.”

“I should caution you to be careful. If Mr. Faraday’s death wasn’t an accident, then poking around could put you in danger. If you need anything, you have my name. You call the precinct and ask for me. I’ll get you help. Where are you heading now, Miss Kingsford?”

“I’m done for the night. I’m heading home.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Should I walk you to your car?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m just in the parking lot at Pier Eight. Officer Reynolds, I’m glad TriCity has officers like you on duty.” She squeezed his arm.

Reynolds watched Carrie Kingsford head for the Pier Eight parking lot. He turned and walked in the direction of the hotels. Carrie was deep in thought as she walked slowly back to her car, mulling over what she just learned from Officer Reynolds.

She didn’t see the two men until she was almost upon them. They were standing by her car, facing away from her. One man was tall and looked like a football player. The other man was short and slight of build.

She cut over quickly to another row of cars. As she walked between two cars, she lost her balance on the gravel and bumped against one. The car alarm went off.
Damn alarms
, she said to herself.

The men looked over in her direction. She regained her balance and quickly started back to where she left Officer Reynolds. When she looked over her shoulder, the men started to move toward her. Without a doubt they recognized her.

She broke into a dead run.