Take a Dive for Murder (15 page)

Late the next morning, Carrie was sitting at the desk in her room. She was looking over the journal while she waited for Christopher to arrive. She decided she would use her day to go through the journal slowly, page by page, with Christopher. She knew Christopher would join her as soon as he was awake, but the events of the night before obviously took their toll, and he was still sleeping.

She flipped to the back section of the journal. Jamie’s notes consisted of a list of short phrases and single words:

Exporting and importing

Location and storage

Sailors/friends make the trip

Payments arranged

Other end—friend or foe

Pub drop

Storage area separate

Location near TriCity docks or harbor?

Codes

Cold storage and spoilage?

Labels—more than one thousand per envelope

Caviar—real product or fake

Why?

Carrie read the list several times. She even said the items out loud, but couldn’t apply any meaning to Jamie’s series of thoughts. While looking at this page, Carrie realized there was another entry on the back side. It was a short poem.

Sail,
sail my beautiful ship

With hulls of gold and treasure

And hidden with the cargo

a package of a different measure.

Who knows, who knows

of this tale of the taking,

for the person least expected

at the heart of the making.

Discovery is easy to find,

with suspect’s photo of smiles

five steps from the left with old friends

but loyalty is many more miles
.

Carrie knew that Jamie wrote poetry for himself. He was criticized early in his college days by the literary magazine staff, who thought his poetry didn’t follow the accepted format. It was probably why he joined the newspaper staff. As a result, Jamie never took his poetry seriously, but continued to write poems for his own amusement.

When Carrie reread the poem, she immediately spotted the photo reference. If Jamie was referring to a particular photo, it was probably part of the ashes of the studio. She was admonishing herself for not having logged more of Jamie’s work
, when there was a light tapping at the door. She closed the book and slid it in the top desk drawer.

As she opened the door, she lightheartedly said, “It’s about time you got up!”

Charles was initially stunned and then said with a grin, “If you remember, I was out late last night. You obviously were expecting someone else.”

“Sorry, I thought it was Christopher. I promised to spend time with him today. How about you? Did you get any sleep last night?”

“After I saw Christopher to his room, I went to bed, but it took awhile to fall asleep. I kept seeing the flames and thinking about the loss of Jaime’s work.”

“I know what you mean. I experienced the same feelings.”

For someone who was up late the previous night, Charles looked great. He was dressed in a beautiful dark-blue suit, crisp white shirt, and a blue and red patterned tie. It caused Carrie to comment, “You look very dashing this morning. Are you off to meet the insurance people?”

“No, they will be here later this afternoon
for a preliminary look. I’m on my way to the office for a meeting. I stopped by to ask you to go with me. After the meeting, I could show you around Faraday Press, and then we could have lunch.”

“
I’d love to have lunch with you and of course I’d very much like to see where magazines like
News World
are published. How about if I meet you for lunch? That way I can get a couple of things done around here and meet Christopher as promised.”

Charles, just like Christopher the night before, looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was around
. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Carrie stood back, and Charles entered the room. Charles sat on the very edge of the desk chair and waited for her. She closed the door and moved over to the reading chair by the window.

“I’m sure by now you’ve figured out that last night’s fire was no accident. It was deliberately set. We are dealing with people who have murdered Jamie, mugged Simpson, chased you, and started a fire. These are very dangerous people. Instead of just waiting to see what they are going to do next, I want to try to force the issue. I’ve invited Simpson, Stone, Joel, a couple of Jamie’s fellow workers, and even Captain Becker to my meeting this morning in the hopes of sharing information. I’d like for you to join us. Can you postpone your meeting with Christopher until later in the afternoon? I have to be home early to meet with the insurance people.”

Carrie thought for a moment. “You realize there’s a possibility that one of the people you’ve invited may be involved? You might be sharing information with the enemy.” Carrie was thinking of Joel.

“I thought of that, but with Jamie’s studio gone, I’m not sure where to find the next clue. I’m still completely in the dark as to why Jamie was murdered. Until we know this, we are all still in danger. We need to flush our prey from the bushes before something else happens.”

“
This meeting sounds like Nick Charles in a
Thin Man
movie. Get all the suspects in a room and hope someone makes a slip.”

“In this situation
, I wish I had Nick Charles’s talent. I’m hoping just to get enough light to see where this tunnel leads.” He reached out and took her hand in his. “Will you join me?”

“You know
I will.” Before Carrie could add anything additional, Charles stood.

“Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?”

“Sure, meet you in the kitchen.”

“Hey, that reminds me. What sort of mischief were you and Christopher cooking up last night? I took your hint and didn’t ask
any more questions, but it looked like a serious conversation.”

Carrie thought for a moment and then said,
“We were discussing some of his adventures in Europe. I’ll fill you in on the details in the car.”

“All right. I’ll get a couple of cups of coffee ready.”

***

Carrie changed her clothes into something more suitable for a business meeting. Then she sat down at the desk to write Christopher a note. She wrote about Uncle Charles’s meeting and told him she would give him all the details when she got back. She would rely on his objective viewpoint to evaluate what happened at the meeting. She was hoping this would soothe his feelings about not working on the journal. She also indicated that she sufficiently hid their “find” and to please forgive her for not revealing the location in the note. She knew he would appreciate the fact that notes can be intercepted. She folded the note and placed it in an envelope.

She went down the hallway to Christopher’s room. She was stooping down to slide the note under his door when Suzanne opened her bedroom door. She stared down at Carrie, who was on bent knees.

“Good morning.” Carrie tried to sound cheerful. “I’m just leaving Christopher a note. We were supposed to meet this morning, but now I need to leave before I can speak with him.”

“That’s very nice. I think he appreciates it when we treat him like an adult, even though he’s just a child. I’m in desperate need of a cup of coffee, how about you?” Suzanne asked.

“I always need coffee in the morning,” answered Carrie.

The two women walked together down the hallway. When they reached the steps, Suzanne stopped.

“You know, I just realized I’m going to need a coat or a sweater. It’s chilly this morning. Tell Charles
I’ll be right there and if you could fix me a cup of coffee, cream, no sugar.”

With those words
, Suzanne turned and scooted back down the hallway. That’s when Carrie realized Suzanne was also invited to Charles’s meeting. She wondered when Suzanne’s invitation was extended, before or after hers.
Stop that!
She thought.
It doesn’t matter when she was invited. Charles is right to have her attend. She was with Jamie in Europe and may be able to add valuable information.

***

Charles and Carrie waited for Suzanne in the kitchen. Mrs. Cavanaugh provided Carrie with commuter coffee mugs with the Faraday Press logo, and Carrie prepared coffee for herself and Suzanne.

“It’s getting late. Maybe Suzanne is waiting for us outside,” suggested Charles.

Sure enough, when Carrie and Charles arrived at the car, Suzanne was seated comfortably in the front seat.

“Suzanne, I think you should drive Jamie’s car to the meeting,” said Charles. “I can’t guarantee after the meeting I’ll be able to leave to drive you home again.”

“I appreciate the thought, but it’s silly for us to take three different cars to the same place. Don’t worry about Carrie and me. Maybe after the meeting, we girls will spend time together shopping or having lunch. We can always meet you back at the office at the end of the day or take a cab home, right, Carrie?”

Carrie and Charles exchanged glances, but there was nothing they could do. They didn’t want to reveal to Suzanne they intended to have lunch and spend the afternoon with each other.

Carrie handed Suzanne her coffee and climbed into the back seat of the car. Charles shrugged his shoulders and climbed into the front seat with Suzanne. With Suzanne riding in the car, Carrie wouldn’t have a chance to discuss anything with Charles. Hopefully there would be some moment during the day when they were alone, and Carrie could discuss the case with Charles.

Faraday Publishing was located right in the heart of downtown TriCity. It was midway between the harbor area, where the Admiral Saloon was located, and Joel’s office, which was in the financial district.

Charles drove past the front of the brick building, identified by the Faraday Press sign, around to the loading docks. He took a remote control from his sun visor and
, with the press of a button a large metal door slowly rose. Charles pulled his car into the bay and then opened the car doors for Carrie and Suzanne. They followed him into the building.

The minute Charles opened the pressroom door Carrie’s nostrils were overwhelmed by the strong smell of ink. Charles led the visitors down an aisle between two large presses that were running at full speed. Due to the tremendous thunder of the machinery, nothing was said, but Charles did wave to several employees manning the press controls above them on a metal gangway. The party of three took the elevator directly to the eighth floor. Faraday Press occupied the basement and first floor because of the size and weight of the presses and then skipped to the top four floors, which housed the editorial and administrative staff. The other floors in between were leased.

When the elevator doors opened on the eighth floor, the three passengers faced a large, modern waiting area. In the center was a horseshoe-shaped greeter station with the Faraday Press logo etched in the blond wood and outlined in black. Surrounding the desk was a series of chairs and tables in the same blond wood. On the tables were Faraday publications for the visitor to enjoy.

A young lady sitting behind the desk looked up and then smiled brightly as she recognized Charles. “Good morning, Mr. Faraday, your other guests are waiting in Conference Room A.”

“Thank you, Jeanette, any messages?”

“I’ve already given your morning messages to Sandy.” She smiled again at Charles.

“Ladies, if you will follow me.”

Carrie and Suzanne followed Charles through an unmarked door behind Jeanette and found themselves in a long hallway. As they walked along, Carrie noticed that instead of artwork on the walls, covers and stories from various Faraday magazines were framed and hanging. At the end of this hallway was a smaller waiting area. Sitting behind a large mahogany L-shaped desk was a woman in her late forties with a pair of brightly colored half-frame glasses on the end of her nose. Her light hair had a stylish cut, and her dark navy dress was right out of “what a proper executive assistant should wear.”

“Good morning, Sandy. May I introduce Carrie Kingsford, and of course you have already met Suzanne. Carrie, this is my executive assistant, Sandy Waxtrum. I may have the title of president, but Sandy really runs the place.”

Sandy smiled at both women, but her eyes seemed to linger on Carrie. Carrie couldn’t help but wonder what Charles confided to his executive assistant about her.

“Do I need to deal with any of the morning messages?”

“Nothing urgent. Everything can wait until after your meeting.”

The group was once again on the move as they made a left turn into another short hallway. Midway down the corridor, Charles held the glass door of a conference room open for Carrie and Suzanne. The minute the door was open, Carrie could smell fresh coffee, and she desperately wanted another cup. The other participants were seated around the table, with their coffee and pastries. Several discussions were already in progress about the latest news and sport results from the previous day. Carrie looked at each of their faces, wondering if one of them could be a murderer. On the far side of the table, in the first seat, was Hugh Simpson. Next to him was, Jonathan Stone, and then Captain Becker. Becker was wearing his funeral suit and was engaged in conversation with a young woman whom Carrie didn’t know. Perhaps she was a member of the police force since Carrie heard her mention the word “precinct.” On the other side of the table were also two men Carrie didn’t know, although she thought she had seen them at the Faraday wake. Suzanne sat in an empty chair next to these two men. Carrie went directly to the credenza to pour herself another cup of coffee. Charles followed her, and Carrie poured him a cup.

“I’ll do introductions in a moment,” Charles said, accepting the coffee from her.

“I see there’s one introduction you won’t have to do because he isn’t here,” Carrie whispered.

“Yes, I noticed our friend Joel doesn’t seem to have made the meeting.”

Charles no sooner spoke the words when Sandy appeared and slipped him a note. Charles looked at the note and turned it toward Carrie. It said, “Joel is unavoidably detained on a court matter and won’t make the meeting.” Charles placed the note in his pocket, and then he and Carrie took seats next to one another at the table.

Charles tapped on the table for order
. “Shall we get started? Captain Becker has a limited amount of time, and I want him to hear as many of the comments as possible. I’ve called this meeting because I believe each of you may have some piece of information that could help us understand what my brother was doing at the time of his death. But before we do that, let’s make sure everyone knows everyone. In order to save time, I’ll just go around the table and introduce everyone.”

Charles started the introductions with Simpson, Stone, and Becker. The young lady next to Becker wasn’t a fellow police officer, but Linda Morton, a research associate from the magazine. Suzanne was sitting with Bill Owens, Jamie’s foreign assignment editor from
News World
, and Joseph Swatski, a photographer who often went out on assignment with Jamie. With the introductions complete, Charles wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter.

“I believe without any doubt that my brother was murdered. Secondly, I do not believe it was a random murder or the results of a bad robbery. I believe my brother was murdered because he was researching a story that uncovered a criminal act.”

Captain Becker broke in. “Mr. Faraday, do you have any proof for these beliefs?”

“That’s exactly why
I’ve called this meeting, Captain Becker. I want to see if any of you has information that will support my theory. Each of you had contact with Jamie since his return from Europe.” Charles paused as he looked directly at each person sitting at the table and then continued, “You may even have a piece of information you’re not aware you’re holding.

“Hugh, let me start with a couple of questions for you. First, did Jamie make any comments regarding the letter he left with you for Carrie, and
, second, what can you tell us about your mugging?”

Hugh Simpson paused, as if he was thinking through the legal ramifications of anything he said. He placed the tips of his fingers together before responding. “Jamie asked me draw up a new will when he returned to TriCity. Then, about thirty days ago, he returned to my office and added the section in his will about Ms. Kingsford receiving his papers. At that time he gave me an envelope to hold
and said it should only be opened in the event of his death. As we now know, it contained the letter for Ms. Kingsford.” Simpson paused and then added, “I should mention one other point. I asked your brother if I should keep the envelope for an indefinite period of time. He told me he hoped everything would work out within a few weeks and he would retrieve the envelope.”

“No hints as to what he thought would change within a few weeks
?” prodded Charles.

“No hints. Concerning your second question about the mugging, a gun was placed in my back. I was asked to hand over my briefcase. Then I was slugged.”

“The man didn’t ask for money or your wallet?” asked Charles.

“He only asked for my briefcase. However, as I started to regain consciousness, I heard him ask the other man if he found the letter.”

“Is it true only you and Ms. Kingsford knew she took back Jamie’s letter at the wake? Everyone else at the luncheon assumed you still had the letter in your possession when you left the house?” asked Becker.

“That’s correct, Captain, unless Ms. Kingsford told someone.”

Simpson looked across the table to Carrie.

“I told no one,” Carrie verified. “Only Mr. Simpson and I knew the letter was with me. And before anyone asks, Jamie’s letter left no clues. He asked me to look into his death, but said nothing about any specific threats.”

“Carrie, why don’t you continue and tell us about your recent encounters?” suggested Charles.

“Two men have been following me since I arrived in town. My first encounter with the men was in
a downtown garage, after a lunch meeting.” She caught a raised eyebrow from Charles but she wasn’t sure if it was because she deliberately left out Joel‘s name or because she hadn’t shared the incident.

The second t
ime I was chased from Pier Eight by, I believe, the same two men. Both times, through sheer luck, I was able to escape.” Carrie suddenly remembered the two men that ran her car off the road on the expressway. Since she never saw the men in the car, she decided not to mention it there, but would tell Charles later. She continued by providing the participants at the table with her limited description of the two men.

“Does the description of either of these men ring a bell with anyone?” asked Becker.

Simpson spoke. “As I mentioned, two muggers accosted me. I had the vague sense that one man was very broad, and the other man was much smaller, although I didn’t actually see them. It’s possible it was the same men.”

Then Captain Becker cleared his throat. “It’s also possible these two men were seen the night of your brother’s death. One of the officers on duty now remembers seeing three men helping each other walk along the dock. Two of the three men match this description.”

“And the third man?” prodded Charles.

“I’m afraid we don’t have much of a description
: just medium height, medium build, and gray hair.”

“That sounds like most of the guys in this room, including myself,” piped in Bill Owens. Everyone laughed, and the building tension in the room was broken.

Carrie was pleased that Officer Reynolds reported the additional information. She liked him, and now she knew he had integrity, too. Carrie next told the group Stephen Beeker’s theory that an expert swimmer wouldn’t dive in the water where Jamie’s shoes were found. She produced her photographs to support the theory.

“You can see in these shots what Stephen meant.” Carrie spread the pictures out on the table for everyone to see. “The yellow tape between the two pilings marks the spot where Jamie went into the water. Here’s the issue. If Jamie decided to go for a swim, he would dive in from the end of the pier
, not between two pilings, where the chances of hitting his head were greater.”

“Ms. Kingsford, someone with alcohol in his system doesn’t always follow the rules,” said Becker.

“These aren’t rules, Captain Becker. They are the instincts of a good swimmer. Jamie would have done this without any thought. Plus, Stephen doesn’t think the alcohol in his system was sufficient to impair Jamie’s judgment.” Carrie was annoyed and lashed out at the good captain. “Captain Becker, why won’t you admit that murder is a distinct possibility?”

“Contrary to what you may think, Ms. Kingsford, I believe murder is a real possibility. However, I’m a cop
. I need proof. There’s insufficient evidence to prove murder and many more facts to support accidental death. Give me something that says murder, and I’ll be all over this case.” Becker looked at each person sitting around the table.

Becker had effectively stopped the process. No one spoke.

Finally, Charles broke the silence. “Why don’t we take a quick break? But let’s come right back to the table. Since I believe Jamie was working on a story, I’d like each of you to remember the last conversation you had with Jamie that might tell us what he was investigating.”

As the participants stood and headed for the restrooms or the refreshment table, Captain Becker approached Charles. “I was serious about what I just said. I need evidence, and so far all I
’ve gotten from this meeting is more anecdotal information.”

“I understand, but perhaps
we’ll learn more from the last conversation each person had with my brother,” Charles said.

“All right, I’ll stay a little bit longer, but then I need to get back on duty.” Becker turned away and joined the group refilling their coffee cups.

Within a few minutes, the group reassembled at the conference table, and Charles asked for a volunteer to start.

Joseph Swatski cleared his throat. “Seeing your photos, Carrie, reminded me of the last conversation I had with Jamie. He told me he was thinking about doing a feature on the docks.
Asked me if I could spare some time to take pictures. I asked what he wanted. He said nothing special just shots of the activities at the docks.”

“Did you take those pictures?” asked Charles.

“No, I didn’t, but there was a reason. Jamie gave me the name of a particular ship he wanted included in the pictures. I didn’t want to make two trips, especially since this wasn’t an official assignment.” He looked over at Bill Owens and then said, “I was going to do all the photographs the day the ship docked.”

“What was the name of the ship?” asked Becker.

“It’s a ship registered in Poland. I can’t pronounce the name, but I have it written down at my desk.”