Board Stiff: A Dead-End Job Mystery (4 page)

H
elen couldn’t stop shivering. Phil ran to Sunny Jim’s trailer, threw open the door, yanked out a beach towel and wrapped Helen in it.

The sun-warmed towel felt good, but Helen was still shaking. It was too much: Ceci’s awful husband, the botched rescue, the lifeguards bringing her possibly dead body back from the strong current. Phil held her in his arms. Helen leaned her head against his chest and he rocked her gently.

“That poor woman,” she said. “Do you think Ceci will make it?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “She still wasn’t breathing when the ambulance took off. Even if she survives, there might be brain damage if she didn’t get enough oxygen.”

“I hope her husband feels good and guilty,” Helen said. “He told her she looked like an orange pumpkin in that life jacket.”

“Those kind never feel guilty,” Phil said.

“Sir?” It was a third lifeguard, a woman clutching a red plastic clipboard. “I’m Zone Lieutenant Samantha Jenecek.” Lieutenant Jenecek was about five foot six and had a red pixie cut. But those weren’t Tinker Bell muscles. She had an athlete’s fit frame. “Do you know the victim’s name? Could I get a witness statement from you and your friend?”

Helen said quickly, “I’m Helen Hawthorne,” in case Phil introduced her as his wife and blew their flimsy cover.

The lifeguard nodded.

“Did Ceci ever start breathing?” Helen asked.

“She’s going to a good hospital,” the zone lieutenant said, evading the question. “Riggs Beach General handles all the beach and boating accidents. Do you know the victim’s last name?”

Before Phil could answer, a second siren shrieked and a Riggs Beach police car swung to a stop in front of Sunny Jim’s, spraying sand. The officer sauntered over to them like a gunslinger in an old cowboy movie. Helen had a hard time taking the officer’s John Wayne strut seriously when she saw the Riggs Beach logo on the police car: a blazing yellow sun wearing a smile and shades.

He was scrawny, with no-color hair and a pale complexion pebbled with pimples. “Officer James, Riggs Beach Police,” he said. “Did you witness the drowning?”

“Has the woman been pronounced dead?” Lieutenant Jenecek asked.

“Don’t know if she’s dead or alive. She’s at the hospital,” the pimpled officer said. “We already had an officer at the ER. He said the victim had arrived but didn’t report her status. What did you see?”

“Two of our lifeguards pulled her out of the water about twenty minutes ago,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “The woman’s husband and Jim Sundusky, the paddleboard concession operator, followed her to the hospital. The lifeguards returned to their towers, as per Riggs Beach Ocean Rescue procedure. We can’t leave the beach unguarded. These two civilians were with Sundusky. They stayed behind.”

“Stick around, you two,” Officer James said. “I need to talk to other witnesses.”

What other witnesses? Helen wondered. The beach was nearly deserted. The ghoulish gawkers had melted away, leaving a residue of trash-strewn sand. The camera clickers were gone, too. A few swimmers were splashing near the lifeguard tower, as if Ceci’s emergency had never happened.

“What’s the victim’s name?” Officer James asked, giving Lieutenant Jenecek a lazy smile. He wasn’t immune to her good looks.

The lieutenant was all business. “Her husband called her Ceci. He took off before I could get more information.”

“I have it in our company computer,” Phil said. “Ceci and Daniel rented paddleboards from Sunny Jim. Okay if I look it up?”

Officer James nodded yes. Helen stayed to eavesdrop.

“What caused the victim to fall into the water?” Officer James asked.

“I didn’t see that,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “Kim, the Tower Three lifeguard, witnessed it. I took her statement. She reported that the victim was on a stand-up paddleboard. The victim strayed into the no-swimming area near the pier. The lifeguard blew her whistle and shouted at the woman to turn back. She thought the woman was trying to turn around when she toppled off her board. There was a strong west wind and she couldn’t handle the board. When the victim didn’t get back on, the lifeguard radioed emergency response and I alerted 911. I came on the scene when the lifeguards were carrying her out of the water.”

“Did the lifeguards see anything that looked like she’d been pushed or deliberately harmed?” Officer James asked.

“I asked the Tower Three guard,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “She said no. But visibility isn’t good in that area. The waters are murky from the rip current.”

“Did she see anyone in the water who was close but not making an effort to render aid?” the officer asked.

“Like I said, the victim was in a no-swimming area,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “No one else was in the water there. As soon as the lifeguard blew her whistle, Jim Sundusky and the woman’s husband tried to run out to rescue her, but they didn’t know what they were doing. Our lifeguards arrived first: Kim, the Tower Three guard, and Garcia, in Tower Four.”

“Did the husband impede the rescue?” Officer James asked.

“He didn’t aid or impede it,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “He obeyed their orders and let them proceed. The lifeguards got the victim faceup and on a rescue board. She had a cut on her forehead. They thought maybe she hit a piling when she fell and was knocked unconscious.”

“How would you describe the current?” he asked.

“Strong,” Lieutenant Jenecek said. “The lifeguards carried the rescue board with the victim to the beach, where they tried to revive her until the paramedics showed up. The paramedics were still working on her when she was loaded into the ambulance.”

“Did the paddleboard rental operator follow proper safety procedures?” Officer James asked.

“Like what?” Lieutenant Jenecek looked puzzled.

“Was the victim wearing a life jacket?”

“No, but stand-up paddleboarders aren’t required to wear jackets in a swimming area. When she strayed into the restricted area, the lifeguard signaled her to turn around, but it was too late.”

Phil returned and read from the iPad screen. “The couple’s name is Odell, Daniel Marcus and Cecilia Ryan Odell,” he said. “They live at 225 Clafin Drive, Kirkwood, Missouri. That’s part of St. Louis, I think.”

“A very nice part,” Helen said.

“What did you see, Miss, uh . . . ?” Officer James asked.

“Hawthorne,” Helen said. She gave him her name and address but didn’t mention that she and Phil were working undercover. Florida state law wouldn’t let private eyes divulge much about their work without their clients’ okay.

“It happened so quick,” she said. “One second Ceci was paddling on the board and the next she was underwater.”

“Did you hear the lifeguard blow her whistle? Did she warn the victim to move to a safer area?” Officer James asked.

“Oh, yes,” Helen said. “It looked like Ceci was trying to do that when she fell off the board.”

“Where was Mrs. Odell when the lifeguards reached her?” Officer James asked.

“About a third of the way out on that pier,” Helen said, pointing toward the area. “Where that couple is standing. Except she was in the water. Under it, actually.”

“Was the victim wearing a life jacket?” he asked.

“No,” Helen said. “She put one on, but her husband made fun of her and she refused to wear it.”

“Did you take any photos or videos of the incident?”

“Lots of people did, but I locked up my camcorder in the trailer when I ran out to help,” Helen said.

The officer asked Phil similar questions. Phil said he first noticed Ceci was in trouble when the Tower Three lifeguard blew her whistle. Sunny Jim wanted to paddle out to help her. Her husband, Daniel, took a paddleboard to rescue his wife, but he couldn’t get on his board. The lifeguards asked them to stay away and they followed their orders.

“Did the victim have any paddleboard training?” Officer James asked.

“One lesson from Sunny Jim on Riggs Lake,” Phil said. “Ceci did well and wanted to go out on the ocean today. She and Daniel made reservations, but this morning he said he didn’t want to go out even though he’d paid for a board.”

“And Mrs. Odell didn’t wear a life jacket?”

“Not after her husband said it made her look fat,” Phil said.

“Did Sunny Jim insist she wear the life jacket?” the officer asked.

“No, he couldn’t force her to,” Phil said. “He did insist that she keep the jacket on her paddleboard. I carried her board out to the water and Jim brought the paddle and the life jacket.”

“Was Mrs. Odell a good swimmer?” Officer James asked.

“She said she was,” Phil said.

The officer turned back to Lieutenant Jenecek. “Did the tower guards see a life jacket on the paddleboard?”

“You’ll have to ask them,” she said. “If you have any further questions, you can interview them. They’re off duty at five o’clock.”

“What about you, Miss Hawthorne?” the officer asked.

“I saw Jim carry a life jacket and a paddle when Phil took her board to the ocean. Jim didn’t come back with either one.”

“But you didn’t actually see him put it on the board?”

“No,” Helen said.

“Did you notice a life jacket in the water when the lifeguards went out to help Mrs. Odell?” he asked.

“No,” Helen said, “but it could have been swept away in the rip current.”

“Are you an expert on ocean currents?” Officer James asked.

“No,” Helen said. Why was the officer cross-examining her?

“Officer, if we’re finished here,” Phil said, “my customers are waiting to return their paddleboards. Can I help them?”

“I have your contact information,” he said. “You can go. You, too, Miss Hawthorne.” He pulled out two business cards, wrote a number on them and said, “If you remember anything, contact me. That’s the case number.”

“What was that about?” Helen said, as she and Phil loped across the trampled sand. “That police officer sounded like a frustrated trial lawyer.”

“I didn’t like it, either,” Phil said. “Seemed like he had it in for Sunny Jim.”

The two Aussie tourists stood by the trailer with their boards, flirting with a pair of bikini-clad office workers. Their damp hair hung in ringlets and their noses were sunburned.

“Have a good time?” Phil asked the muscular blond Aussie in the blue board shorts.

“Bloody right, mate, until we saw the amby and then the blue heelers,” he said.

“The what?” Phil asked.

“The ambulance and the cops—the police. Something happen?”

“A woman fell off her board and was taken to the hospital,” Phil said.

After an awkward silence, the blond Aussie said, “Hey, it’s beer o’clock. We should get out of the bloody hot sun and into a cold beer.”

“We like beer,” said the tall office worker in the yellow bikini.

“Is the woman going to be okay?” Ms. Pink Bikini asked.

“We hope so,” Phil said. “How was your mental health day?”

“We’re still crazy,” Ms. Yellow Bikini said, “but now we’re thirsty. We’re going to decide whether the USA or Australia makes better beer.”

“An important step toward better international relations,” said the blond Aussie solemnly. The group left together, laughing.

“We can go when we find the last three boards,” Phil told Helen.

Daniel and Sunny Jim’s boards were still on the beach, next to their paddles. Helen and Phil carried them back. Ceci’s board wasn’t floating near the pier.

They walked along the beach. The board and paddle had washed up a quarter mile south, sandy but undamaged. There was no sign of the missing life jacket.

Phil brushed the sand off the board. “I’ll get it,” Helen said.

“Let me,” he said. “You carry the paddle.”

Helen found it hard to trudge through the trash-littered sand on this part of the beach.

“I’m dreading the hospital,” she said.

“Me, too,” Phil said. “I don’t think we’re going to get good news.”

At last they reached Sunny Jim’s. Helen helped Phil lean the sandy boards and paddles against the trailer. “I’ll hose these down and lock up,” he said. “We’ll take Ceci’s stuff to Daniel at the hospital.”

“Let me turn in my beach lounge,” Helen said. “I should take Daniel’s back, too.”

Helen dropped both lounges at the rental kiosk. Then she gathered Daniel’s book, sunscreen and rolled-up towel. When she grabbed the towel, a white card slipped out. She picked it up off the sand.

“Riggs Pier Bait Shop,” the card read. “On beautiful Riggs Pier. No fishing license required on the pier.”

The card had tide tables for May 2013, with high-tide dates and times and strong-tide warnings. One warning was for ten twenty-six a.m. today. The time was circled.

That was when Ceci went paddleboarding. Alone.

“C
eci’s dead,” Helen said to Phil.

Sunny Jim didn’t have to tell them. Helen knew by looking at him.

He sat alone in the ER waiting room at Riggs Beach General, isolated by an almost visible cloud of shock and sorrow. The room’s fluorescent lights gave his tanned skin a greenish tinge—unless the news of Ceci’s death had caused that color. The TV blared overhead, but Jim stared at nothing. He clutched his chair’s wooden arms as if he needed to cling to them to save himself.

Helen and Phil sat on either side of him.

“Jim,” Phil said. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Jim’s voice was as flat and colorless as the tile floor. “Ceci’s dead. The doctors couldn’t revive her. The ER doctor said it was a blessing because she would have been brain damaged. A blessing? She’s dead! Why do people say stuff like that?”

“I guess they assume she’d want a full life,” Helen said.

Jim slammed one callused fist on the chair. “She’s dead and it’s all my fault.”

“Quiet,” Phil said. “Ceci’s death isn’t your fault. If you have to blame someone, it’s Ceci. She insisted on going into the ocean after one lesson. You told her the wind was dangerous and she dismissed your warning. She went paddling in a forbidden area—where you told her not to go.”

“Her husband should share that responsibility,” Helen said. “He said the life jacket made her look fat and she took it off. Where is Daniel, by the way?”

Jim nodded at the oak double doors marked EMERGENCY
ROOM
—
NO
ADMITTANCE.

“Inside there,” Jim said. “He asked to be alone with his wife after she was pronounced dead. Becky, one of the ER nurses, is a friend. She’s been keeping tabs on him. Becky checked on me about ten minutes ago. She says the staff is disgusted by his behavior.”

“What did he do?” Helen asked.

“He didn’t cry or even act sorry,” Jim said.

“Maybe he’s in shock,” Phil said.

“Becky says a lot of men don’t cry, and shock makes some people numb or confused. Daniel just looked at his wife, then asked for a place to make calls. Becky took him to the family lounge and offered him juice and graham crackers. When she came back with his apple juice and crackers, he was on his cell phone talking to a lawyer. That was his first call! She heard him say, ‘So do I have grounds for a wrongful death suit?’ Becky came straight out to tell me. She says she’s seen people more upset when their dog died.”

“Do you have liability insurance?” Phil asked.

“Five million dollars,” Jim said.

“That much?” Phil raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I have to,” Jim said. “It’s what a responsible company does. I have a lot of exposure renting paddleboards to the public. My business does well and I have some family money. My dad died in a car accident and his insurance paid out a million dollars. When I was in the ER after Dad got hit, I wasn’t calling any lawyer. I felt like I was moving underwater.”

“When are they going to release the body?” Helen asked.

“After the autopsy,” Jim said.

“An autopsy! Why? She drowned,” Helen said. “It was an accident.”

“They have to find out why she died,” Phil said. “Ceci’s death looks like a drowning accident, but it could have been caused by a medical problem, a stroke or an aneurysm.”

“She’s too young to have a stroke,” Jim said.

“They happen at any age,” Phil said.

“Her death is just wrong,” Jim said. “Ceci was a nice lady. She was supposed to go home tomorrow after a vacation. Now she’s going back in a box with that greedy bastard.”

“It is sad,” Helen said, patting his hand. “But you can’t blame yourself. I liked Ceci. Can’t say the same about her husband—she might still be alive if she was wearing that life jacket. You look pale, Jim. Have you had any lunch? Can we get you coffee? A sandwich?”

“Not hungry. Too jittery for coffee,” Jim said. “I’ve had four cups since I got here. I’m gonna use the men’s room. I’ll be back.”

He headed down the hall, his walk oddly jangly, as if he couldn’t get his legs in sync.

“Phil, do we tell him about Officer James’s odd questions?” Helen asked when Jim was out of earshot.

“Not yet,” Phil said. “We’ll face those problems if and when they happen. I just hope the husband doesn’t decide to sue.”

“Can he do that?” Helen asked. “Daniel laughed his wife right out of her lifesaving life jacket.”

“You’d be surprised how a good lawyer can twist this situation,” Phil said.

“I wish I’d called that police officer when I found the tide table in Daniel’s towel,” Helen said.

“So what if Daniel had one?” Phil said.

“He circled the tide time when Ceci went out on her board.”

“Still doesn’t prove anything,” Phil said. “They give them away on the pier.”

“But he sent his wife out at the worst time,” Helen said.

“She went herself,” Phil said. “He was on the beach when she drowned. He even tried to rescue her.”

“Looked to me like he was trying to hinder the rescue,” Helen said. “Screaming and thrashing around in the water.”

“He panicked when he didn’t see his wife,” Phil said. “Not everybody has a cool head in a crisis. Why are you shivering?”

“Because all I’m wearing is a swimsuit and a thin cover-up,” Helen said.

Phil dropped some coins in the coffee machine and handed her a cup of black coffee. She wrapped her hands around its warmth gratefully, then sipped the bitter brew.

“Thanks,” she said. “I feel much better. I still don’t like Daniel.”

“Me, neither,” Phil said. “Sh! Jim’s coming back.”

Helen pretended to watch the TV on the waiting room wall. Then a red banner crawling along the bottom of the screen caught her eyes. “Missouri Tourist Killed at Riggs Beach,” it said. “Details on Channel 54 at 4.”

“Phil!” she said. “Look!”

“I saw it,” he said. He glanced up at the ER clock. “It’s three fifty-five.”

Jim saw the bad news, too. He sat down heavily in his chair and put his head in his hands. “Oh, no,” he said. “Riggs Beach will use this to get me.”

“You don’t know that,” Phil said. “We know Valerie Cannata at Channel Seventy-seven. She’s won a slew of Emmys, and she did some good stories about us. That’s probably how you learned about Coronado Investigations in the first place.”

“You wait and see,” Jim said.

The trio spent a tense twelve minutes. The top news stories seemed endless and pointless. Helen thought there were stories about a high-speed car chase and a robbery at a strip mall store. Then an anchor with a blond bubble of hair assumed a professionally sad expression and said, “A thirty-year-old tourist from Kirkwood, Missouri, was killed while stand-up paddleboarding on Riggs Beach.”

A photo of Ceci smiling adoringly at her husband, Daniel, flashed on the screen. It must have been taken a while ago. She wore a white ruffled top and was forty pounds slimmer than the woman Helen had seen. Ceci and Daniel looked deeply in love.

“Where the hell did they get that photo?” Sunny Jim said. “She’s only been dead an hour.”

“Her husband could have e-mailed it to them,” Phil said. “That means he’s going to sue. He’ll try the case in the court of public opinion first.”

Jim groaned. None of them could tear their eyes away from the news story.

Now a police spokesman was talking on-screen. “The victim was identified as Cecilia Odell,” he said. The spokesman looked like he was facing a firing squad instead of a camera. “Mrs. Odell was with her husband, Daniel Odell, on Riggs Beach this morning. Mr. Odell was sunbathing on the beach while his wife was stand-up paddleboarding. Mrs. Odell fell off her board and was found unconscious in the water. She was transported to Riggs Beach General Hospital and died at the hospital without regaining consciousness.”

The blond anchor said, “The company that rented Mrs. Odell her paddleboard was Sunny Jim’s Stand-Up Paddleboard Rental, based in Riggs Beach and owned by Mr. James Sundusky. Mr. Sundusky did not return our phone calls.”

“What?” Jim said. “They didn’t call.”

“Is your phone on?” Helen asked.

Jim fished it out of his pocket and checked the display. “The station called five times,” he said. “I should call them back now.”

“No,” Phil said. “Let’s see where this story is going.”

A blurred, shaky video clip was rolling. Helen could see the two lifeguards carrying Ceci out of the water on the rescue board. “A Channel Fifty-four viewer took this exclusive video of the rescue,” the blond bubblehead intoned. “Remember, if you see news and can safely do so, send your photos and videos to your Fifty-four news station. If we use your video, we’ll give you fifty-four dollars.”

Professional video replaced the snippet of amateur work. It showed a hefty man with a comb-over and a dingy white short-sleeved shirt.

“Oh, no,” Jim said. “That’s Commissioner Charlie ‘Want More’ Wyman. He’s always got his hand out for a bribe.”

Charlie earnestly folded his chubby hands over his paunch while the blond anchor said, “Police say the incident is under investigation. But here’s what Riggs Beach city commissioner Charles Harrison Wyman told us.”

Commissioner Wyman had a reedy voice for a big man. “I have repeatedly called for more regulation for water sports companies,” he said. “South Florida has had tragic deaths from parasailing providers, Jet Ski rentals, and now in Riggs Beach, stand-up paddleboarding rentals. These companies and their equipment should be inspected on a regular basis. And right now, that’s not occurring. My rules would change that. We need to protect our citizens and the good name of Riggs Beach as a family vacation spot.

“If companies like Sunny Jim’s Stand-Up Paddleboard Rental can’t follow safety procedures, they don’t deserve to be on our beach.”

“See? I told you,” Jim said. “The Riggs Beach City Commission is going to vote to take my license and my spot near the pier. They’ll do anything to ruin my business.”

“Even kill an innocent woman?” Phil asked.

“What better way to get rid of me?” Jim asked. “That poor lady was unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Phil flashed Helen a look over the top of Jim’s head that told her he thought their client was astoundingly self-centered.

Helen heard an engine pulling up to the emergency room entrance, then a short, sharp horn honk. A yellow cab was waiting outside the door.

The emergency room’s inner doors swung open and Daniel burst into the waiting room. Sunny Jim stood up and approached Daniel carefully, as if an energetic movement could cause the newly bereaved husband more pain.

“Daniel, I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, his voice a mournful whisper.

“Get away!” Daniel shouted. “You killed my wife.” He pushed Jim in the chest. “Get out of my way. That’s my cab.”

“No, that’s not true,” Jim said, but he backed away. “I didn’t kill Ceci. Her death was an accident.”

“An accident?” Daniel gave a harsh, ugly laugh. “You endangered my wife’s life with your reckless policies. You failed to provide her with proper training and safety equipment.”

What? Helen thought. Daniel had mocked his wife when she put on a life jacket. He sure didn’t sound like a grief-stricken husband. He was using legal language.

“I’d give anything for your wife to be alive,” Jim said. “I’d rather it was me who died than Ceci.”

“Yeah, right,” Daniel said. His thin lip curled like a cankered leaf. “By the time my lawyer finishes with you, you’re going to wish you did die.”