Stuart Woods - Choke

Chuck was not looking forward to being under indictment. If that happened, teaching tennis would be a thing of the past. Merk would have to let him go, and he had no other way of earning a living.

As he walked to the car he added up his assets: the boat, the car, two thousand dollars in the bank, and about sixty thousand in his retirement account, plus a few bonds. A trial could reduce the total of all that to zero; the lawyer had made that plain. Once he had been indicted, the snowball would start to roll, and it would be rolling downhill, getting bigger as it went. He could not allow himself to be arrested, it was as simple as that. But how to avoid it?

He drove slowly back to the boat, went aboard, opened himself a beer, and sat heavily down on the afterdeck to drink it. He took a few sips, then looked up and saw his colleague, Victor, standing on the deck of the Raw Bar, talking to a blonde. He waved, catching Victor’s eye, and Victor waved back, then turned his attention once again to the girl.

Chuck was on his second beer when Victor appeared at the gangplank.

“Yo, pro!” Victor called. “Permission to come aboard?”

“Permission granted,” Chuck replied. “I’ll get you a cold one.”

Victor settled in a deck chair and accepted a beer.

“Looked like you were doing pretty well at the Raw Bar,” Chuck said. “What brings you down here?”

“You know,” Victor replied, “I thought I was doing pretty well, too, but I guess she didn’t share my view of our relationship. Gave me some excuse about having to rejoin her tour party. No luck tonight.”

“Let’s have a few, then,” Chuck said.

Victor looked at him pityingly. “No luck for you, either, huh? Is Clare Carras playing the widow?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m well out of that.”

“Listen, Chuck,” Victor said, “there’s something I want to ask you straight out, and I’ll be as subtle as I can about this. Did you knock off Harry?”

“No, sir,” Chuck replied. “I did not. I most definitely had not the slightest fucking thing to do with knocking him off. Not that the police, in the person of Tommy Sculley, seem to believe that.”

“They giving you a hard time?”

“I think Tommy’s cutting me all the slack he can, but he told me I’d better see a lawyer.”

“Have you?”

“Half an hour ago.”

“Was he encouraging?”

“He encouraged me to take steps to raise bail, just in case.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You look depressed, kid.”

“Me? Depressed? Nah, I’m just your happy-go-lucky tennis pro, waltzing through life with a wink and a chuckle.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Yes, weirdly enough.”

“Shoot.”

“How the hell did I get into this, Victor?”

Victor shrugged. “You got into Clare Carras.”

“Yeah, but getting laid isn’t supposed to get you in trouble, is it?”

“Is this the father in the hysterical pregnancy case that I hear talking?” Victor asked.

“Okay, okay, maybe it gets you in trouble with the odd husband, but it isn’t supposed to get you a shot at the death penalty, is it?”

Victor held up a hand. “Hang on, let’s analyze: Why do the cops even dream you might have done it?”

“I think their reasoning goes like this: I was screwing Harry’s wife, so maybe I wanted Harry out of the way so I could cash in his chips for him.”

“Sounds good to me,” Victor said cheerfully. “What else?”

“Somebody put carbon monoxide into the diving tanks; I’m a diver, and I have some mechanical ability, so they reason that while I was down below fiddling with the exhaust, I pumped some of it into the tanks. Either that, or I swam over to the marina in the dark of night and screwed with the tanks.”

“Impeccable logic,” Victor said, beaming. “Anything else?”

“Not that I know of, and I wish you’d stop looking at this their way.”

“Anybody see you put exhaust fumes in the tanks?”

“No. I mean, I didn’t do it, so nobody could have seen me do it, right?”

“Right. Sounds to me like the cops are coming up short in the evidence department. If I’ve seen enough cop shows in my time-and I most certainly have-to know anything about criminal law, they ain’t got enough to nail you.”

“That’s what the lawyer said, although he made the point that they would be doing their dead-level best to get more.”

“I suppose. Still, if you’re innocent, what can they get?”

Chuck brightened a little. “Now you’re talking,” he said. “And you’re right. How could they possibly get more?”

“Well, they could invent it, I suppose.”

“Victor, don’t say things like that.”

“Let’s look at this as simply as we can,” Victor said. “You didn’t do it; that’s a given, as my math teacher used to say.”

“Right.”

“So, if you didn’t do it-ergo, somebody else must have.”

“Right again.”

“Got any ideas?”

“Not a one. Well, Clare, of course. She gave them some answers that didn’t jibe with mine, and that’s what got them on my back, I think.”

“Aha, the lovely Clare!” Victor crowed. “A veritable black widow! We have another suspect!”

“She’s my favorite, actually.”

“Do you think the possibility might have crossed the minds of the cops?”

“I suppose. They seem to be buying her version of events, though.”

“Tell me, Chuck,” Victor said, suddenly serious. “During your little rolls in the hay with Clare, did she, I wonder, ever propose that perhaps the two of you might do Harry in?”

Chuck shook his head. “No. Wait a minute, she did say something about how at my age I should be looking to the future.”

“That seems to be a leading question, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t lead any further. I mean, she never got around to saying that I should doctor Harry’s tank.”

“Pity,” Victor said.

“Why?”

“Well, if she had, then you could mention that to Tommy Sculley and see if that causes him to tack for the other side of the bay.”

“Victor, are you suggesting that I should make up something like that to divert Tommy’s interest toward Clare?”

Victor shrugged. “Never, old sport; I’d never suggest that you lie to the cops. On the other hand, in your place, I’d lie like a bandit if it would get me out from under.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Chuck said.

“Probably not,” Victor replied. “I rarely am. Look here, I’ve got a few grand tucked away. You’re welcome to as much of it as I can spare and still pay my bar bill.”

“Thanks, Victor, you’re a friend, but I hope it won’t come to that. I’m okay for money unless I have to go to trial.”

“Just let me know.” Victor looked at his watch. “Well, the big hand’s on the six, and that means the lovelies have begun gathering in the various watering holes. Care to join me? Might do you some good.”

Chuck shook his head. “Thanks, but I think I’m done in for today.”

Victor stood up. “I’m off, then. Remember, I’ll help in any way I can. Just say the word.”

“Thanks again, Victor. See you.”

With a wave, Victor jumped ashore and ambled off toward the music down the quay.

Chuck watched him go, and he felt a little better. It was good to know he had at least one friend in all this. He drank the rest of his beer and went below to find something to heat up for dinner.

Tommy and Daryl were back in the chief’s office, and Tommy wasn’t looking forward to the meeting. He watched glumly as the chief entered and arranged himself at his desk.

“Sorry I wasn’t here to see you when you got back from L.A.,” the chief said. “How’d it go?”