Nice Place for a Murder Read online

  “Bad move for Kenny.”

  “As it turned out,” Lisa Harper said. She pushed her nicely sculptured ass against the Elysium and made the boat bump against the slip.

  “So what happened?”

  “He drowned.”

  “Oh, yes? Where? In the bathtub?”

  She held up a forefinger, staring at me, making me wait, amusing me with her studied arrogance. Finally, “Patience, Seidenberg. All will be revealed. He drowned swimming in the bay.”

  “Swimming in October? Water’s pretty cold.”

  “People do it. Ingo swims into November.”

  “Really.”

  “Cold doesn’t bother him. Nothing does. Phenomenal endurance. He’s a fitness freak, like me.”

  “You into fitness?”

  “My passion.”

  “Thus the running and the orange juice.”

  “Kenny swam out thirty yards and did laps in front of the house. We watched him from up there.” She pointed to the deck well above us, a cantilevered affair that seemed almost to float in space, barely touching the main structure of the house. “Suddenly he was in trouble. He stopped swimming and started flailing around in the water. Almost immediately he went under, disappeared.”

  “Then what?”

  “We ran down, Ingo and I, and went in after him. Hard to locate him. The water’s been so murky since the storm. It took us awhile, too long, but Ingo found him under water and we towed him back to shore. He gave him mouth-to-mouth and I ran up to call for help, the local ambulance corps. They got here right away, but it didn’t make any difference. They worked on him with a resuscitator for forty minutes, right there on that rock. But he was gone.”

  “I’m surprised anybody could find the guy below the surface. You think he’d drift with the tide, maybe end up a mile away.”

  “That’s what Ingo thought, too.” said Lisa Harper. “But it was slack tide, we found out. The water wasn’t moving.”

  “How deep is it out there, where he was swimming?”

  “Maybe twelve, fifteen feet. Why?”

  “Just that I wonder why he was out so far if he was swimming laps. For exercise, right? He could have done that in four feet of water.”

  “The bottom drops off sharply here,” she said.

  I shrugged. “So what was it, a cramp did him in, you think?”

  “I suppose, yes.”

  “No reason to look for any other explanation, then?” I said. I folded my arms across my chest, resting them on my stomach, which I made no longer made any effort to suck in. Three years ago, when my weight had stabilized at 225 pounds, putting me beyond the far side of what was appropriate and healthy for a man of a certain age standing five-eleven, I had decided there was no more room in my life for vanity.

  “What else could it be? He just suddenly went under.”

  “Try heart attack. Try food poisoning. And there’s always that old favorite, foul play.”

  “Oh, please. He was all alone out there when it happened. And anyway, who would want to do harm to Kenny? I mean, Kenny, after all.”

  “I take that to mean you think he was an innocuous soul who couldn’t have had enemies.”

  “Your words, not mine. He was a competent, effective executive. Ingo doesn’t hand out vice presidencies to morons.”

  “A good guy, then? You liked him?”

  She stood and walked to the end of the dock, looking across to the Greenport waterfront. A film of clouds, tinted orange by the lowering sun, had gathered on the horizon to the west. “I liked him well enough. But now you’re thinking why am I so stoic about it, why aren’t my eyes red from the sorrow of it all. After all, I helped pull his body out of the water. Looked into his cold, dead face.”

  “Yes, you did,” I said.

  “Never saw the sense of crying about anything. It’s unproductive. Whatever happens, deal with it and move on.” She almost smiled. “Write that down, if you want.”

  “You’re tougher than I was when I was still tough.”

  “I’m the Iron Woman, Seidenberg.”

  “That what they call you?”

  She turned to face me and undid the belt that held her beach jacket around her, then with a languorous realignment of her shoulders, let the jacket slip free and fall to the dock. The sharp angle of the fading autumn light traced the highlights of her form, shoulders broad and round, breasts full without being rude, narrow hips radiating a sense of power, sculptured thighs. Lisa Harper was an athlete, filled with muscular possibilities. She was dynamics at rest, ready to leap in an instant. The whole package was bound up by a bathing bra and thong bottom, both white against her tanned skin.

  I caught myself gaping at her. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “Not really,” she said. “Point is, my wavelength is the physical world. That’s the only reality. Sorrow and regret and frustration, they just waste you.”

  “Is that what makes you the Iron Woman?”

  “Every year I compete in the Iron Woman Triathlon. Train four months to get into shape. The competition is fifty miles that brings me to the limits of what this body can achieve. The experience is as close as one can get to absolute rapture. First bicycle, then swimming, then running. That’s the reason they call me the Iron Woman.”

  “Only reason?” I said.

  “Let’s get back on track. I told you I liked Kenny. It was a hideous accident. We couldn’t save him. We did all anyone could possibly do.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  Ingo Julian’s voice was a rasp that came from above. “Come up, Lisa. Bring him.”

  I had met Ingo Julian only once before, two years after the crash of his private plane that disfigured the man, and taken the life of his brother Felix. The sight of him now came as no surprise, but still, his appearance was so disquieting I had to force myself not to look away. There wasn’t a trace of hair anywhere on Ingo Julian’s head. Even his eyebrows were gone, sacrificed to the surgery that had repaired him after the fire and trauma of the crash. His head was a pattern of scars, the most prominent running from the top of his head, down his forehead and cheek, to just below his right ear. Another began at his left temple, then forked into two lines as it made its way behind his neck. The restructured appearance of his skin was accentuated by the sun, which had left him bronzed in some places while leaving mottled patches of white, outlined by his scars, in others. It was as though a membrane of some sort, damaged and mended, had been stretched over his head and neck.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said, his voice, as I remembered it, raw and labored. “Ben, isn’t it? Yes?”

  “Flattered you remember,” I said.

  “You’ve put on a few pounds. Living the good life on the North Fork.”

  “My lady friend likes hefty men. She insists I eat well.” I was taken by the sheer size of the great-room in which we stood, the cathedral ceiling with its huge exposed beams, the expanse of polished oak floor.

  “I’m not sure what you can do here. Might be a waste of your time,” Julian said. “Hector thought it would be a good idea. Lawyers are so circumspect. Well, they keep us from doing foolhardy things. If we let them, they also keep us from doing productive things, isn’t that so?”

  Lisa Harper lingered in the room’s entrance archway, beach jacket draped over her shoulders. “You don’t need me anymore, do you, Ingo? I’m longing to take a run.”

  “Run,” said Julian, motioning toward the beach.

  “I can be found if you need me, Seidenberg,” she said. I felt her focus linger on me for an instant before she turned and disappeared.

  “You left Empire, didn’t you?” said Julian. “You cashed out. The fact is, old Teague made it worth your while. Yes?”

  “It was time to move on,” I said.

  “Yet the fact is, here you are.”

  “Old loyalties.”

  Julian lowered himself into a black leather chair near the tiled fireplace, and pointed to a matching chair facing it. I sat. “Not
all loyalty comes from the heart, does it?” Julian said. “The best of it is bought and paid for. I suspect the Julian Communications retainer fee has something of an impact on your payout from Empire. Three more years. A strong basis for your loyalty. Yes?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “How is it you know everything about me and Teague and Empire?”

  “We pay you a great deal, as fees for your sort of services go. I’m compulsive about looking into the people we do business with. You would know that, certainly.”

  “You investigate the investigators, then?”

  “Of course.” Julian said. “So I know Teague is a malicious, single-minded fellow you’d rather not deal with. Sleazy looking, too. Not someone you’d take to dinner, but then again, perhaps a good man to have on your side in a fight.” He dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand, and leaned back into his chair. “About the accident today, I believe it’s more of a public relations project now than an investigative matter.”

  “Do you?”

  “Kenny Newalis was an officer of a good-sized company. His loss will be felt throughout the organization, and beyond. The industry will want to know how we’re going to deal with that loss. The financial markets, too.”

  “Why should the financial boys care? You own the company. There are no other stockholders.”

  “There are, actually. A few shares here and there, to valuable people. But you’re out of touch, Ben Seidenberg. If you were still in New York instead of out here on the North Fork, you’d know there’s talk about Julian Communications going public.”

  “Is it true?”

  “There’s always that chance.” Julian shrugged his brawny shoulders. I watched his oversize biceps move beneath his blue T-shirt. “Many rumors of that kind end up being true. Yes?”

  “Are you telling me the death of Newalis comes at a particularly bad time?”

  “Why would you think that’s what I meant?” Julian said, shaking his head.

  “Reading between the lines. It’s a talent investigators are supposed to cultivate. If there’s a public offering, the loss of a key executive could be embarrassing. Or at least, it could muddy the waters for you.”

  “Accidents happen. People understand that.”

  “Sometimes.” I stood. The sliding glass doors that defined an entire wall of the great-room were open, and the vista drew me through them onto the cantilevered deck that extended high above the beach and the dock. It was like floating over the bay.

  “The man drowned,” Julian said.

  “By accident?”

  Ingo Julian rose and followed me onto the deck, digging his hands into his pockets and striding deliberately. “We saw him go under with our own eyes. Right from where you and I are standing. He was out there all by himself. Those are facts. Why would you think it wasn’t an accident?”

  “I didn’t say what I thought. I asked what you thought.” The sun was sinking now, the horizon blazing red-orange.

  Julian’s hand on my shoulder. “I respect your pursuing what you believe to be Empire’s responsibilities here. I recognize this and I appreciate it. But the facts in this matter are unambiguous. Inventing far-fetched scenarios for what happened would be counterproductive, and possibly contrary to the best interests of Julian Communications. You can acknowledge my point of view. Yes?”

  “It makes sense as far as it goes.”

  “You think I don’t go far enough?”

  “That’s right. But don’t mistake my motives, Mr. Julian. Your concerns are my concerns.”

  “Ingo. Call me Ingo.”

  “Interesting. I call you Ingo but you call me Seidenberg.”

  “Yes, it is interesting, isn’t it?” Julian ran a hand over his hairless head.

  “When you were watching Newalis swim, and when you ran down after he got into trouble, did you see a boat here, a commercial fisherman?” I stepped to the railing and pointed toward the water offshore. All at once the height and a sudden illusion of no support beneath disoriented me. For an instant I felt I might actually topple over the railing, and a sudden swell of anxiety prompted me to step back.

  Julian was watching me. “Others have had that reaction. Something about the design of this deck, the way it extends out into the void. It scares people. For me, it’s the best feature of the house.” He leaned far out over the railing. “Being here excites me. It’s like soaring above the earth.”

  “About the boat,” I said.

  “The boat?”

  The subject was making him uneasy. I kept silent and waited for him to continue.

  “Yes, a boat.” Ingo said, finally. “I believe there was a boat.”

  “At anchor?”

  “Perhaps. I’m not sure.”

  “Did you call to the boat for help when you saw Newalis go under?”

  “It occurred to me, but it was far away, and I couldn’t see anyone on it, anyway. He must have been on the other side, facing Greenport. Fishing, I suppose. We didn’t have time to worry about the boat, Lisa and I. We were racing to reach poor Kenny.”

  “Yes, poor Kenny. Did you see the boat after you found Newalis and pulled him ashore?”

  “I have no idea. I had no reason to be concerned with the boat. We were trying to save Kenny’s life. I’m beginning to sense you’re cross-examining me, Seidenberg. Yes?”

  “You pay us to dig out facts for you,” I said. “That’s what I’m doing. You don’t have the whole picture.”

  “And you do?”

  “Let’s say I have a different perspective.” I paced across the deck and back again, processing my thoughts, as Ingo waited silently. “Think about this. Why should a commercial craft be anchored here? There are nothing but porgies in this part of the bay, and commercial boats don’t bother with them. It was slack tide, anyway. The fishing slows up when the tide stops running. He wasn’t after fish.”

  “Maybe he had engine problems. Maybe he was cleaning his catch. Maybe he stopped to urinate.”

  “None of the above,” I said. “Look down there. There’s my boat in the slip on the right. See the windshield? A bullet did that. The guy on the boat was still here when I motored up, and he started shooting at me. I chased him east toward the Sound, but he outran me. He knocked out one of my engines, and I was no match for him with just the other one.” A narrowing sliver of sun remained above the horizon, and now I felt the October chill distinctly. “So, are my concerns far-fetched?”

  “I don’t know who shot at you, but it wasn’t anyone in the boat out there during the accident.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I remember seeing that boat leave when we pulled Kenny ashore. It went off to the west, toward Southold.”

  “Are you sure? Did you catch the name of the boat?”

  “I was occupied trying to start a man’s breathing. I wasn’t looking for something painted on the side of a boat.”

  “On the stern, actually. You did say you saw the boat leave.”

  “You’re cross-examining me again, Seidenberg.”

  “Was it Lulu? Because that’s the name of the boat I tangled with.”

  “Asked and answered,” Julian said brusquely. “I can’t confirm what I don’t know for a fact.”

  Client or no, Ingo Julian was being more difficult than he had a right to be. It was clear he’d rather I went away, but that wasn’t an option now, not for me. “Somebody shot at me,” I said. “I find that irritating. I also think it’s not much of a leap from my skirmish on the bay to some kind of connection to the drowning. So I think maybe we ought to take a long look into the circumstances of just how poor Kenny expired. That’s what I think. What do you think, Ingo?”

  Again, Julian sidestepped. “I regret the damage to your boat. Have it fixed and I’ll pay for it,” he said. “It’s getting dark. Let’s go in. Yes?” He moved back into the great-room, waiting for me to follow before sliding the glass doors shut.

  Ingo was stonewalling me, and I felt my disposition heati
ng up. Any more of this exchange, and I’d be saying things to the chief executive officer of Julian Communications that could put my financial future into jeopardy. Thus I was not at all unhappy to recognize the voice of Hector Alzarez as he strode through the archway into the room. “You honor us, Ben.”

  His attire was, as always, flawless. His dark gray pin-stripes from Paul Stuart on Madison Avenue were miraculously wrinkle-free, despite Hector’s two-and-a-half hour ride from Manhattan on the Long Island Expressway. Inevitably he looked too good to be real, but he was real, all right. Better than real. He was incisive and shrewd and more than a little canny. If he felt there was a need for me, I knew he had reasons.

  CHAPTER III

  “I come when you call,” I said to Hector. “Now tell me why you called.”

  “I think you’re a skilled man in a crisis. You have a way of dealing with situations before they become unpleasant. You make people feel secure,” he said. “I thought you’d be flattered. Did I disturb your retirement?” He started to slip out of his suit jacket, then stopped and looked to Ingo, as if to ask permission. Ingo replied silently as well, with a strained smile and a scarcely perceptible why-should-I-care shrug. Hector slid the jacket off, gracefully, slowly, folded it meticulously and laid it across the back of a chair.

  I said, “Yes, I was flattered. And yes, you did disturb my retirement. ”

  “I’m trying to be gracious,” Hector said. “Teague told me you were in your boat fishing when he got to you on this case.”

  There was an edge to Ingo’s voice. “Please don’t refer to this incident as a case, Hector. It’s not a case and not a crisis. This is — was — an accident, yes?” He moved about the room, switching on lamps against the approaching sunset. “I was there. I saw it happen.”

  “Does anyone think it wasn’t an accident?” Hector said.

  “Only Seidenberg has mentioned that possibility,” Ingo said. “Not the ambulance people, not the police. Certainly not me, and I don’t think Lisa, either. Go ask her.”