I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1) (4 page)

Maggie had joined the tennis club around 6 years back.  She had taken lessons from an instructor but it turned out that he was more interested in stroking her than teaching her to stroke the racket.  She hardly ever played.

Max had played tennis in high school and was a fairly good recreational player.  He had joined the same club the year before he and Maggie met.  He played on the men’s Friday afternoon league for a while and then played occasionally.  His boss Carl was a member, as was Chief of Police Louis “Lou” Devaro.

Around 10:00 o’clock Friday morning, Maggie and Max arrived at the East Wayford Tennis Club within ten minutes of each other, in separate cars, Max first.  They each checked in with the club tennis pro to ask about open times for the courts and if any members were looking to pair up for a game.  Max knew that Chief Devaro’s wife usually played on Friday mornings.  The chief, himself, often stopped in to play a warm-up game in the morning, to get his game in shape for the afternoon league matches.  Maggie and Max went to their respective locker rooms to change into tennis clothes and equipment.

“Well, hi Max, are you in for a mixed doubles match this morning?” boomed Lou Devaro, in his distinctive bass voice, as he passed Max’s locker.

“Sure, Lou, are you and your ‘better-half’ playing this morning?”  Lou nodded as Max continued, “I saw Maggie Marshall checking in for court times, how about a foursome?”

“You’re on!” answered Lou.

The couples switched partners as they took over a tennis court.  Max was partnered with Rose Devaro.  Rose was a stout, late fifties woman who was quite energetic, but not well coordinated. Maggie’s partner, Lou, was in fairly good athlete but nearing retirement age. His knees were arthritic and that had slowed him down a little, year after year.

The game started slowly with Lou serving to Max in the backcourt position.  Both women were playing the forecourt positions.  Max returned the serve with a friendly lob to Maggie.  This tempo of play continued through several points for each team.  The points were scored, not with expert ball striking, but when one of the players made a poor shot or missed an easy return.

Lou and Maggie won the first set 6 -3.  Lou was beaming as he gave his partner a one-armed hug.

Max had played quite a few games with Lou, over the years of his club membership, both as a partner and as an opponent.  He had learned how to gauge Lou’s temperament.  His demeanor would shift dramatically depending on whether his was winning or losing.

Max was mindful of the fact that Maggie and he were there for the purpose of approaching Lou about the harassment from his investigating officer, Detective Salvadore.  Lou would normally not talk about police matters while at the club, so the approach would have to be subtle and as friend-to-friend. Lou would be expecting to win this morning, especially with Maggie as his tennis partner, rather than his wife, and his reception to this approach would be especially negative if, after the game, he was on the losing side.

Lou Devaro was a strong, aggressive and determined player but Max, younger and more even tempered than Lou, was better.  Both of the men knew that, so Max would have to be especially careful that he wasn’t obviously laying-off to make Lou the winner.

While the pairs switched sides of the net before the start of the second set, Max quietly talked strategy with Rose.  Knowing that both Lou and Maggie, when they served, would be going right at Rose since she was weaker on the returns, Max suggested that she sidestep the serves and volleys and let the ball pass.  Max would move directly behind her to effectively handle the returns.  When their serves were returned the same strategy would be used.  Rose was a little puzzled but, she had a soft spot where Max was concerned.  She nodded in acceptance of his coaching, relishing the idea of possibly beating her dominant husband.  This plan would not be effective once it became obvious, but Max guessed that he could score enough points to get the advantage, win the set, and even up the game.

The second set began with a little more intensity.  Max’s plan was working well.  Rose was allowing shots that were aimed her way to pass by and Max was very effective with the returns. The set was 4 -2 in their favor.  Lou was getting a little heated and he was hitting his shots harder, though less accurately.

When trying to return a hard, fast shot from Max, he reached way out as he lunged, taking a mighty swing at the ball.  Lou grunted as he missed the speeding ball and, with the swishing of his racket, he let out a loud fart.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Then Rose burst out with a guffaw that echoed around the courtyard.  Lou gave an embarrassed, quick look around to see if anyone but the four of them had noticed.  Maggie glanced quickly at Max.  He was pretending to wipe the sweat off his forehead but Maggie detected a look in his eyes and knew that he was struggling to suppress a laugh.

Maggie quickly turned away from Lou to look at something irrelevant, anything so he would not notice her grinning.  She spotted the clock and said; “Oh-my-gosh, look at the time.”  Rose was looking at Lou with a surprised, curiously blank, stare. The set went to Max and Rose. They were even, one to one.

As the foursome crossed the court to switch sides, they agreed, in the interest of time, to play a sudden death tie breaker, the first side to commit a missed shot would lose.  They flipped a coin to determine which team would serve.  Max and Rose won the toss.  Rose served a rather soft blooper just over the net toward Maggie and turned away to let Max handle the return.  With a flushed face, Lou rushed in front of Maggie and gave the ball a mighty swat.  The ball zoomed past Max and hit the back-turned Rose squarely on her rather generously sized left buttock.

“Yipes” Rose yelled as the ball bounced outside the foul line.  “Ouch, that hurt!” she shouted, glaring at Lou.

“That’s game!” exclaimed Lou, with a big grin on his face.  With a disingenuous frown, he walked around the net post to approach Rose.

“Sorry, sweetie” he said with a now genuinely concerned expression, “Are you okay?”

The men shook hands as they walked to the side bench. Lou, ‘the humble winner’, shook Max’s hand and Max ‘graciously’ congratulated him on the win.  The two women were indifferent as to who won or lost.  They chatted while walking to the women’s locker room.  Rose was rubbing her posterior most of the way.

Rose had to leave for a hairdresser appointment after she had changed. Lou suggested to Max that he and Maggie should join him for lunch in the club lounge.

After being seated the trio ordered and sat discussing the weather, always a relevant subject in the changeable New England environment, and other minor matters for a few minutes.  They enjoyed a light salad and sandwich lunch and were finishing their tapioca deserts when Lou complimented Maggie on her athletic prowess and noted that she seemed very fit in a physical sense.  Taking advantage of the opening, Maggie thanked Lou for the compliment and told him that she wished that his detective, Lt. Salvadore, was as much a gentleman as he was.  Lou Devaro hesitated, then looked directly at Maggie and asked what she meant.  Maggie answered in a slightly more colorful detail than the chief had bargained for, and Max chimed in with what the two had gone through since the discovery of the first death three and a half weeks earlier.

Lou listened without comment, and was acting the somber police chief now, as he ended the conversation.  He had to skip his afternoon league play because he had a news conference to do, which was scheduled at 2:30 PM. He indicated to the two fellow club members that he would get Salvadore’s side of the situation.

The Saturday morning newspaper included coverage of a media release by the East Wayford Police Chief.  The report in the paper was essentially a repeat of the Friday evening television report.  Chief Luis Devaro had announced that the medical examiner’s report confirmed that the death of a known local man, which was discovered in East Wayford at the vacant house on Whitmore Lane, in April, was now being investigated as a homicide.  The exact cause of death and the exact time of death had yet to be determined.

He added that a second dead body, located at the abandoned mill on Farm River Road, and which had been reported on the previous Tuesday, was being examined for identification and probable cause of death.  He had no further information to release on that matter.

In answering questions from the television news crews about the first mysterious death, the chief indicated that no arrests had been made and that the investigation had not produced a suspect, or suspects, as of that time.  He indicated that the case was now proceeding as a homicide investigation.  All other questions were deferred with “As a homicide investigation is underway, no further information can be released at this time.”

At the police headquarters on this Saturday morning an unusual closed conference with all police personnel was underway.  Instructions for the investigation procedure were given by the respective department commanders.  Once the meeting was adjourned Chief Devaro asked detective Salvadore to come to his office.  Salvadore, with a quizzical look on his face, followed the chief to the office in silence.

“Close the door, Sal, have a seat” commanded the chief.

“What’s up Lou?” asked Salvadore.

Lou Devaro had worked together with Joe Salvadore on their small town police force for over six years.  Devaro had recruited Salvadore and swore him in as a rookie patrolman.  After Salvadore had completed the required law enforcement educational courses the chief had promoted him to Detective Lieutenant.

Salvadore had maintained a clean record but the one thing Chief Devaro knew about him was that, since he became a detective, he would sometimes fixate on an unfounded theory he had developed, about certain things, to the exclusion of other possibilities.  This usually did not go well since many of the alleged perpetrators would be proven guiltless.  Nevertheless, Salvadore would hold onto his erroneous theories way too long and sometimes waste valuable time which could be better spent on other cases.

“Have you picked up any solid leads on the killing on Whitmore Lane since we discussed it last week?” asked the chief.

“Well, there are a couple of things I noticed which are common to that case and the body found Tuesday,” he answered.

Salvadore went on to hypothesize about the fact that both bodies were found in empty properties which were being marketed by Stanley Realty, and that both had been slated for auction.  In both cases, the auto belonging to the victim was found at the scene, or nearby, indicating that they were probably meeting with someone on a pre-arranged appointment.

“These things occur pretty often with properties that don’t sell right away, Sal, so where are you going with that?” asked the chief.  Salvadore began to get a little nervous but he went on.

“I know they are friends of yours, Lou, but both Maggie Marshall and Max Hargrove worked together on those properties.”  After staring at Salvadore for several seconds, the chief spoke, sternly, “I think I know these two persons pretty well. Have you got anything definite connecting them to a homicide?”

“Nothing definite” Salvadore answered, “But I questioned them on both of these cases and I get the feeling that they’re holding something back.” Chief Devaro sat looking across his desk at his only detective for a long, thoughtful moment.  Salvadore was starting to fidget in his seat.

Finally, the chief told Salvadore that he had better spend his time seeking out some solid leads, and not to spend time chasing down theories.

“The media hawks are circling overhead and without some solid information soon, they are going to pounce.” he went on in his lecturing tone, “I might turn the questions over to my ‘investigating detective’ at the next news conference.  If I were you Sal, my boy, I’d want to have something to say that’s meaningful and defensible.”

With that, the conference was over and both of them left the building for the day.

Sunday was Joseph Salvadore’s day off. He drove east to Westerly, Rhode Island to have Sunday dinner at his parents’ house.

Joe Salvadore was brought up in a small New Jersey town where his family owned an Italian restaurant.  He was a senior in high school when his mother and father retired from the restaurant business and moved to Westerly, a quiet, shorefront community along the Rhode Island southern coast.

Because of the open Atlantic waters with its heavy surf and sandy beaches, Westerly had long been a prime waterfront destination, much in demand by New York and New Jersey summer tourists.  Salvadore’s parents owned a remodeled four bed room, shingle-style cottage, situated on a tranquil tidal pond which was created by a sand bar just south of the property.   The senior Salvadores moored their enclosed bass boat in the pond.  They lived there for seven to eight months each year between April and December.  For the winter seasons they drove to their moderate condominium townhouse located on the Florida West Coast.

While they were in Rhode Island, it became customary for Lt. Salvadore and his siblings to spend Sundays with their parents for an Italian feast.  On this occasion Lt. Salvadore spent a rather quiet and subdued visit and said his goodbyes earlier than usual.

On the drive back to his East Wayford apartment that evening, the young policeman was fuming over the lecture he had endured from Chief Devaro the day before.  In Salvadore’s mind, the connection was obvious between Maggie Marshall and Max Hargrove, the locations of the two recent deaths which were connected with the respective companies they were employed by, and the fact that the two deaths were similar.  This had triggered an irrepressible instinct in his detective’s mind.   He had been trained to seek out connections exactly like this in criminal investigations.

The fact that Hargrove and Ms. Marshall were fellow club members and friends of the chief was problematic.  That fact had magnified the frustration that he was experiencing. A driving force behind Salvadore’s record of police work and his rise to the position of detective had, in his mind, always been associated with his being hired and mentored by Chief  Devaro. Salvadore had been promoted by the chief and had been totally loyal to him over the years.  He had built an impeccably clean record during his tenure on the force.  The chief was probably close to retiring and his logical replacement would be his protégé, Lt. Joseph Salvadore.  Although he would have to be careful in any further official pursuit of his theory about Maggie Marshall and Max Hargrove, he was determined to press forward on his own.

Salvadore reviewed the state medical examiner’s report in his mind.  It had indicated that the cause of the first death was blunt force trauma, a cranial contusion, a collapsed trachea and a ruptured carotid artery.  The victim had been dead between fourteen to twenty hours.  This information had not been released to the public as of yet.  The medical examiner’s office had not finished the forensics on the most recent corpse, but Salvadore, based on his observations of the corpse, felt that the second body would yield a similar cause of death.

The hard part of his investigation would be checking on the whereabouts of his suspects at the times of the deaths.  In a quiet, close community word would spread around quickly if he asked too many questions about the two respected and well liked professionals, Ms. Marshall and Mr. Hargrove.

During the forty five minute drive home from his parents place, Salvadore decided on a plan of action.  His plan would avoid any further spotlight on his inquiries within the community, and possibly push, at least one of the two persons in question, into making the wrong move.

Already, he had noted an aloof, irritable reaction to his questions by Max Hargrove when he approached him that morning on his way to work the day after the second suspicious death.

Questioning Maggie Marshall would be less conclusive, and could be somewhat explosive, due to her distinctive, no-nonsense personality.  The best course of action, he decided, would be to surreptitiously shadow or have someone shadow, both of them to trace their movements, especially after normal working hours.

Salvadore realized that the plan involved some risk, but he sensed that these two persons were hiding something. His driving ambition led him to believe that he had to seize this opportunity to go with his instincts. He was sure he was onto something and, if it proved out, his lifetime aspiration of being the chief of police would be practically assured.

That evening, Salvadore made off-duty contact with two of his regular informants, one in a parking lot behind a commercial shopping strip, and the other at a pool hall in the neighboring city of New Haven.  He gave them descriptions of Ms. Marshall and Hargrove, and details on where they lived, their employment addresses and places they frequented.

Both of the informants had criminal records.  The understanding was for them to report back to Salvadore on the movements of either, or both of the two suspects.  Salvadore reminded each of them that he was in tight with the local police chiefs and that he would run interference for them with any problems they had with probation or involvement in minor illegal activities.

Neither informant was aware of the other informant shadowing the couple in question.  This way, unknown to them, Salvadore would have a double check on any information they provided.

Lieutenant Salvadore went to his apartment for a good night’s sleep, congratulating himself on his slick maneuver of monitoring the suspicious couples’ comings and goings at no cost to him, or to the department.

Actually, he had picked up on this police method from watching a cop movie.