(5/10) Sea Change Read online

  “Rape, my ass,” Molly said.

  Jesse nodded. Outside the firemen began to polish the chrome. They liked that truck. Like grooming a horse, Jesse thought. If it was alive, they’d give it a carrot.

  “Let’s hear her statement,” Jesse said.

  Molly got the audiotape of her interview with Cathleen and they listened to it in Jesse’s office.

  “They made me do a striptease,” Cathleen said.

  “What were the circumstances?” Molly asked.

  “They got a video camera, and they said I had to do a striptease or they wouldn’t take me home.”

  “Who is they?” Molly said.

  “The guy that raped me and other guys and some women, too. They said I had to strip.”

  “Perfect,” Jesse said.

  “Keep listening,” Molly said.

  “And then the guy who owned the boat took me into his bedroom and closed the door and threw me on the bed and raped me. He was like an animal. Just threw me down and jumped on me and stuck it in.”

  “But, he did wear a condom,” Molly said.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Did he put that on just before he jumped on you like an animal?”

  “Yeah, just before.”

  “Was it in a packet?” Molly said. “Did he have to open the packet?”

  “No, he just…he had it in his pocket and just pulled it out and put it on.”

  They listened to the rest of it. She might have had a drink, but if she did, it was only one and she didn’t finish it. What kind of drink? Vodka. Straight? Yes. Who brought her home? Same guy brought her out. The one she met in the bar. Could she pick him out of a lineup? Yeah, ’course.

  When the tape was finished, Jesse said, “She got drunk at the Dory, went on a lark to the yacht. They fed her more booze. She got drunker and did a striptease. Then the owner brought her into his bedroom and had sex with her. They brought her home. Maybe they didn’t treat her respectfully. Maybe she just was in trouble at home for being late and being drunk. Maybe she was afraid the tape they made of her striptease would get out. Whatever, she came up with this story.”

  Molly nodded.

  “Her mother knows she wasn’t raped,” Molly said.

  “Yes,” Jesse said. “She does.”

  “I guess Sam believes her. I hope he doesn’t do something about this that will get him in trouble.”

  “He’ll let us do our thing,” Jesse said. “He’s like a lot of fathers in this situation. He’s saying what he thinks he’s supposed to say.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Jesse smiled.

  “We don’t know she’s making this up,” Jesse said.

  “We’re pretty sure,” Molly said.

  “It’s not our job to decide,” Jesse said. “It’s our job to investigate. The DA and the courts decide.”

  “If we got her in here alone and talked to her for a while,” Molly said, “she’d tell us she’s lying.”

  “We don’t want to do that,” Jesse said.

  “We don’t?”

  “Then we’d have no reason to search the alleged crime scene.”

  “The Lady Jane?” Molly said.

  “And confiscate any videotape we might find,” Jesse said.

  Molly began to nod her head slowly.

  “And since it is a lawful search, if we stumbled across anything that looked like evidence in the Florence Horvath homicide…” she said.

  “Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good,” Jesse said.

  “It helps to know what to do with the luck when it comes your way,” Molly said.

  “Yes, it does,” Jesse said.

  28

  Kelly Cruz sat on a terrace in the tallest building south of New York and looked at Biscayne Bay. The Cuban maid brought her iced tea with mint.

  “Mister and Missus will come right out, soon,” the maid said.

  Kelly Cruz nodded. The maid backed off the terrace. Kelly Cruz watched an ornate white cruise ship plod fatly south in the bay. She had never been on a cruise, but she couldn’t imagine it was much fun.

  “Miss Cruz? Nice to see you again.”

  Kelly Cruz put her tea down and stood.

  “Mr. Plum,” she said. “Mrs. Plum.”

  Everyone shook hands.

  “Sit down,” Mr. Plum said, “please.”

  The Cuban maid appeared with iced tea for the Plums.

  “That will be all, Magdalena,” Mrs. Plum said. “Thank you.”

  The first time she’d met them, Kelly Cruz thought they looked like brother and sister. Mrs. Plum had thick silver hair brushed back, and very large sunglasses. Her skin was evenly tanned. She was slim and wearing a white silk shirt with white linen slacks and sandals. Her toenails were polished. Early sixties, Kelly Cruz estimated. Both of them. Mr. Plum looked like his wife. Silvery hair, brushed back, even tan, dark glasses, white shirt and slacks. Mr. Plum smiled at Kelly Cruz.

  “Did I tell you when you came by last time?” he said. “That you’re quite attractive for a detective.”

  “It’s a disguise,” Kelly Cruz said.

  Mr. Plum smiled widely and nodded in a way that made Kelly Cruz think he hadn’t understood what she said.

  “Do you have any new information about Florence’s death,” Mrs. Plum said.

  “I need to ask you some more questions, tell you some things we have learned,” Kelly Cruz said, “and get your comments. Not all of the things will be pleasant.”

  “Must you?” Mrs. Plum said. “Don’t you think we may have heard enough unpleasant things?”

  “She has to do her job, Mommy,” Mr. Plum said.

  “Do you know a man named Thomas Ralston?” Kelly Cruz said.

  Mr. Plum looked thoughtful for a time.

  Then he said, “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “Mrs. Plum?” Kelly Cruz said.

  “He’s one of the crowd of pimps and gigolos that Florence knew.”

  “Florence? Are you sure, Mommy? I don’t remember him.”

  “You remember only what you want to,” Mrs. Plum said. “And I’m not your mother.”

  Mr. Plum smiled at his wife.

  “Which was he,” Kelly Cruz said.

  “I don’t know. He had money. He owned a yacht. That was enough for Florence.”

  “How did he get his money?”

  “Wise choice of parents,” Mrs. Plum said. “Or, more likely, grandparents.”

  She glanced briefly at her husband. Perhaps he wasn’t a self-made man, either, Kelly Cruz thought. He smiled happily at his wife.

  “How well do you know him.”

  “I’ve met him once or twice.”

  “So you don’t know him well?”

  “To know him at all is to know him too well.”

  “He doesn’t seem like a bad sort, Mommy,” Mr. Plum said.

  “I thought you didn’t know him,” Kelly Cruz said.

  “Mommy, Mrs. Plum, reminded me,” he said.

  Kelly Cruz nodded.

  “Any thoughts?” Kelly Cruz said.

  “Me?” Mr. Plum said. “No. As I said, he seemed nice.”

  “Where did you meet him.”

  Mr. Plum looked blank. Mrs. Plum said, “Tennis club luau. Florence brought a bunch of people. We didn’t even know she’d be there.”

  “Would you have gone if you’d known?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where I could find Mr. Ralston?”

  “I believe he lives aboard his boat,” Mrs. Plum said.

  “In Fort Lauderdale?”

  “He never said.”

  Kelly Cruz nodded. She knew that Mr. Ralston’s boat was currently in Paradise, Massachusetts.

  “We have in our possession,” Kelly Cruz said, “a videotape of Florence having sex with two men.”

  Mrs. Plum squeezed her eyes tight shut and dropped her head. Mr. Plum looked faintly quizzical. Neither of them spoke.

  “I’m sorry,” Kelly Cruz sai
d. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “Well,” Mr. Plum said, with a pleasant smile, “Florence was sort of wild, I guess.”

  “Mrs. Plum?” Kelly Cruz said.

  Mrs. Plum hadn’t moved. She appeared to be staring at her knees.

  “I’m not surprised,” she said without looking up.

  “Would you know what the circumstances would be that would…” Kelly Cruz stopped.

  “Cause her to do something like that?” Mrs. Plum said. “Too much money, too much freedom, too little supervision…too little love.”

  “But you don’t know of any, ah, commercial enterprise that she might have been involved with?”

  “Oh my God, no,” Mrs. Plum said. “Nothing that smacked of work. She would have done it because it was shocking, or depraved, or unconventional. Maybe because she thought it was fun. But never work. Never anything as worthwhile as commercial enterprise.”

  Mr. Plum seemed to have lost interest.

  “It’s not an investigative question, Mrs. Plum, but I have two children, and…”

  “And you can’t imagine giving up on them so completely.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “Yes, I did. God save me, I do. But I had to make choices. I have two other daughters, much younger. I couldn’t let her corrupt them as she had been corrupted.”

  “By whom,” Kelly Cruz said.

  Still staring down at her knees with her eyes shut, Mrs. Plum said, “See above.”

  “Too much freedom, too little love?” Kelly Cruz said.

  Mrs. Plum nodded. Mr. Plum was looking at his watch.

  “You know, it’s after five somewhere,” he said.

  He picked up a small silver bell and rang it. The maid appeared.

  “I’m going to order drinks,” Mr. Plum said. “What’s your pleasure, Miss Cruz.”

  Kelly Cruz shook her head.

  “I’m working,” she said.

  Mr. Plum nodded.

  “Two old-fashioneds, Magdalena,” he said. “Tell Felix to be sure and use those lowball glasses I like. He knows.”

  Magdalena nodded and went out.

  Kelly Cruz took a deep breath.

  “Your twin daughters,” she said. “They aren’t in Europe.”

  Mrs. Plum’s shoulders rose and fell as she breathed deeply.

  “They are not students at Emory University.”

  No one said anything. From under Mrs. Plum’s closed eyelids, a couple of tears began to slip down her face. Mr. Plum looked puzzled. He glanced hopefully toward the patio door.

  “Did you know that,” Kelly Cruz said, “when I talked with you last time?”

  Mrs. Plum nodded.

  “Why did you lie?”

  “I…I knew they had dropped out and I didn’t know where they had gone.”

  “Why’d you lie?”

  “What kind of a mother doesn’t even know where her kids are?” Mrs. Plum said.

  The maid came in and put an old-fashioned next to Mrs. Plum. Mr. Plum took his from her hand and drank some. He smiled and exhaled audibly. Mrs. Plum opened her wet eyes and looked at the drink which was already beginning to bead moisture in the warmth of the terrace.

  “Oh God,” she said, and picked up her glass.

  29

  So how come I get to go on this big search,” Molly said. “There women involved?”

  “There’s some women,” Jesse said.

  They were on the harbor boat.

  “Otherwise you and Suit would have done it yourselves.”

  “Nice to have a woman, in an isolated situation, where there are other women.”

  “So I’m like the nurse in the examining room.”

  “Exactly,” Jesse said.

  “How come I never get to do guy cop things.”

  Jesse shrugged.

  “Next time Carl Radborn gets drunk in the Dory we’ll give you a shout,” he said.

  Molly grinned.

  “Women are nice,” she said.

  Hardy pulled the boat in alongside the Lady Jane, and held it there while the three cops went aboard.

  “Be awhile, Hardy,” Jesse said. “I’ll call you on the cell phone.”

  “I’ll lay off here a little to the leeward,” Hardy said. “No hurry.”

  “Leeward,” Suitcase said.

  “I love it,” Molly said, “when you talk salty.”

  Hardy didn’t respond and the three cops scrambled up onto the deck of the Lady Jane.

  Harrison Darnell met them himself. His guests were gathered at breakfast. The crew, except for the captain, was serving. There were bagels and muffins. There was cheese and a platter of fruit, coffee and a pitcher of orange juice. A bottle of champagne stood in a bucket. Blondie was drinking a Bloody Mary.

  “What is it now?” Darnell said.

  He was in shorts and boat shoes and a flowered shirt. Jesse handed him the warrant.

  “A crime has been alleged on board,” Jesse said. “That’s a warrant to search the boat.”

  “Crime?”

  “A young woman alleges rape.”

  “Rape? For crissake, Stone, I don’t have to rape anyone.”

  “We will also require that you not leave the harbor, and that you come in for a lineup.”

  “Lineup?” Darnell said. “What the fuck are you talking about. A fucking lineup?”

  Jesse nodded enthusiastically.

  “Yes,” Jesse said, “that’s what it’s often called.”

  “You have no damned jurisdiction here,” Darnell said. “We’re at sea.”

  “You’re in Paradise Harbor, Mr. Darnell,” Jesse said. “Why don’t you sit down over there, have a nice cup of tea or something.”

  “I want a lawyer.”

  Jesse shrugged.

  “Call one,” he said. “Officer Crane and I will search the ship. Officer Simpson will stay with you on deck.”

  “I won’t allow it,” Darnell said. “It is a travesty. There has been no crime. Ask anyone.”

  He stepped in front of the stairwell.

  “You are not going below.”

  “Of course we are, Mr. Darnell,” Jesse said. “It’s just a question of hard or easy.”

  “What’s hard?” Blondie Martin asked from her seat at the table. Her eyes were wide and full of excitement as she looked at Jesse over the rim of her glass.

  “Easy is Mr. Darnell goes and sits down with you,” Jesse said. “Step aside, Mr. Darnell.”

  There was something frantic in Darnell’s resistance.

  “No,” he said. “You aren’t going below.”

  Jesse took the cuffs off his belt.

  “You are under arrest, Mr. Darnell, for refusing a lawful order. Face the bulkhead, please. Hands on the top.”

  Darnell’s voice slid up into a high vibrato.

  “No,” he said. “No.”

  Jesse took hold of Darnell’s right forearm. Darnell tried to pull away, Jesse started to turn him, and Darnell swung at Jesse with his left hand. Jesse avoided the punch, used the momentum it generated to spin Darnell, slammed him against the bulkhead and pinned him there with his shoulder while he snapped the cuff on his right wrist. Darnell flailed with his left hand, but Jesse caught it, brought it down and clicked onto the left wrist. It was all so quick, Darnell had no chance to stabilize himself for a real resistance.

  Blondie said, “Ooooh!”

  Jesse let Darnell away from the bulkhead.

  “Suit, sit him down somewhere, and keep him there,” Jesse said.

  “Boy, Chief Yokel,” Blondie said. “You’re really quick.”

  “Maybe Mr. Darnell is really slow,” Jesse said.

  “Any time you want to play with your handcuffs…” Blondie said and giggled.

  Jesse heard Molly make a small sound.

  “First we’ll search the boat,” Jesse said.

  He and Molly started down the stairs.

  “Did I hear you snicker, Officer Crane?” Jesse said.

  �
�You might have, Chief Yokel,” Molly said, laughter bubbling beneath her voice.

  “Well, as long as it was a respectful snicker,” Jesse said.

  “Absolutely,” Molly said.

  Wearing gloves and carrying evidence bags, they went stateroom to stateroom together. Jesse never split a search. It was Jesse’s view that two people searching the same room made it less likely that either would miss something. The videotapes were right where Jesse had left them. There were two more. He took the tapes, including the empty substitute that he had substituted, so everything would look kosher.

  “There is a selection of controlled substances here,” Molly said. “Some weed. Some, I assume, coke. Couple of other things I’d need help with.”

  “Pack it up,” Jesse said.

  “We going to arrest them for possession?”

  “I might find it useful as leverage,” Jesse said.

  In the night table of the master cabin, Jesse found a Browning Hi-Power and a box of shells. He took the pistol and left the shells. In the crew quarters he found a shotgun. He left it. Most boats had a long gun aboard. He didn’t think it would do much for him. They confiscated a video camera. They found sex toys in most of the staterooms. There were several vibrators, some anatomically correct. Molly turned one over in her hands, looking at it from all angles.

  “When I was in parochial school,” Molly said, “we weren’t allowed to wear patent leather shoes, for fear someone might look up our dress in the reflection.”

  “I was always hopeful about that,” Jesse said. “But I never saw it work.”

  “But it probably kept you alert,” Molly said.

  “I don’t want you sneaking home with that thing,” Jesse said.

  Molly rolled her eyes at him, and put the vibrator back where she found it.

  “Ah, the stories it could tell,” he said.

  “What exactly is this,” Molly said.

  “That’s a ball gag,” Jesse said, “and those are restraints. Fetish toys. You can order them on the Internet.”

  “Ick,” Molly said.

  “You and hubby don’t use those?” Jesse said.

  “There are times, I think, he might want to stick that gag in my mouth,” Molly said. “But not during sex.”

  “Irish Catholic girls have sex?” Jesse said.