Choke (12 page)

Billy was sharp that morning, and when Chuck played points with him, the boy won most of them. When they had finished playing the father motioned Chuck to sit down with him.

“What’s up?” Chuck asked.

“There’s a tournament in Naples this weekend,” the elder Tubbs said. “I’d like Billy to play in it.”

“That’s a pro tournament,” Chuck said. “Nothing major, but a pro tournament, nevertheless.”

“I’m aware of that,” Tubbs said.

“It’s too soon,” Chuck said. “Anyway, he’d blow the rest of his high school season; they wouldn’t let him play again.”

“We both know he’s too good to be playing high school kids,” Tubbs said. “You’ve done wonders with him; it’s time to see how he plays under that kind of pressure, how good he really is.”

Chuck shrugged. “I can’t stop you,” he said.

“Come on, Chuck, we want you there,” Tubbs said. “It’s important that you see how Billy does against that kind of competition. Assuming you still want to coach him, of course.”

“Sure I do.”

“Then come with us. I’ll talk to Merk, get you off for the weekend, and I’ll pay you for your time, of course. We’ll fly up in my airplane; it’s only half an hour.”

Chuck shrugged. “Okay, what the hell.” Today he couldn’t care less.

Tommy Sculley sat across the desk from the lab technician and tried to see what the woman was typing on the form.

“I’ll be just a minute more,” she said.

“Take your time,” Tommy replied. “I’ve got all day.”

“I haven’t.” She typed a few more lines, ripped the form out of the typewriter, took it to a copying machine, and punched some buttons. Finally, she handed a copy to Tommy. “Carbon monoxide,” she said.

Tommy looked at the form. There were three columns of figures, headed
SOURCE AIR, AMBIENT AIR,
and
AIR STANDARD.
“What does ambient air mean?” he asked.

“Each tank was tested twice,” she replied. “Source is one test, ambient is the other. The results are expressed in parts per million. The right-hand column, air standard, is what you find in ordinary air—what you should find in compressed air from a clean source. All three tanks are high in carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, and methane. The red and yellow tanks both had more than twenty-five-hundred parts per million. Normal air contains ten parts per million.”

“Pretty rich, huh?”

“Very
rich.”

“Enough to kill?”

“Plenty. If your man had put his mouth over a car’s exhaust pipe, it couldn’t be richer. The blue tank is different, though; while it’s abnormally high in carbon monoxide, it contained only about seven hundred parts per million, less than a third of the other two tanks.”

“Not enough to kill?”

“Sure, if you breathed it long enough.”

“How long?”

“Difficult to say—it would depend on the physical condition of the breather, his respiration rate, other things.”

“What would it do to the breather?”

“The symptoms would include weakness and nausea, eventually unconsciousness, finally death.”

“How long would it take the red and yellow tanks to kill?”

“Again, a lot would depend on the condition of the breather.”

“Say a guy who’d had five bypasses and prostate surgery, but who was otherwise in pretty good shape. Top shape, in fact, for his age. The guy swam, played regular tennis.”

“I don’t know what effect the prior surgery would have, but even in top shape, the breather wouldn’t get far sucking on the red or yellow tanks.”

“What do you mean by not far?”

“A few minutes at most—very few.”

Tommy thanked the woman and left the lab. He got into the car, picked up the cellular phone, and after a couple of minutes, was patched through to the Coast Guard cutter.

“Lieutenant, this is Detective Sculley.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Tell me the locations where your men found the three tanks, by color, if you will.”

“The red tank was on the deck of the wrecked ship; the blue tank was maybe twenty feet from the wreck, in the direction of the yacht; the yellow tank was practically under the yacht.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant.”

“Glad to be of help.”

Daryl spoke for the first time. “So Chandler was wearing the blue tank?”

“That’s how it looks,” Tommy said. “Let’s ask him.”

T
ommy and Daryl pulled into the Waterfront Market parking lot just as Chuck Chandler was parking the yellow Porsche Speedster across the road.

“Hey, Chuck,” Tommy called as he got out of the car. He crossed the road to where the tennis pro was waiting, still dressed in whites.

“Hi, Tommy. What’s happening?”

“Beautiful car, Chuck; I haven’t seen one in years.”

“Thanks. I put a lot of work into it.”

“You restored it yourself?”

“Everything. I rented a boat shed near Palm Beach when I was living up there, and I restored both the car and the boat over a period of nearly two years.”

“Is
Choke
your boat?”

“That’s right.”

“Daryl and I were admiring her the other day.”

“It was a lot of work, but I had a couple of guys helping on the boat. And I got a floating home and a car out of it.”

“Could we take a look at
Choke?
I wanted to ask you some more questions, anyway.”

“Sure, come on down.”

The three men walked down to the waterfront and boarded
Choke.

“Wow,” Tommy breathed. “I’ve never seen such good varnish work.”

“Thanks,” Chuck said. “That took a lot of work. Can I get you guys a drink?”

“Maybe some coffee or tea for us,” Tommy said, catching Daryl’s eye. “You go ahead and have something stronger, if you like.”

“I think I will,” Chuck said. “It’s been a hard couple of days. Come on below and have a look around.”

Chuck showed them the saloon and the master’s cabin, and Tommy poked around while Chuck made tea. The engine room was spotless.

“You do the engine work?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah, with the help of one of the guys. We pulled the engine, overhauled it, painted it, and reinstalled it with new mounts and hoses.”

“You’re a pretty handy guy,” Tommy said.

“Must be genetic; my father could fix anything, and I used to help him in his workshop.” He handed each detective a glass of iced tea, then poured himself a gin and tonic in a tall glass. “Let’s go sit out on deck; it’s cooler.”

The three men relaxed in deck chairs and sipped their drinks.

“I know this is a pain in the ass,” Tommy said, “but I need to go over yesterday again. I’d like you to tell me what happened from the moment you arrived aboard
Fugitive
until I saw you aboard the Coast Guard cutter. Do you mind?”

“I guess I’ve got one more retelling left in me,” Chuck said. “I arrived aboard
Fugitive
around ten, I guess.”

Tommy held up a hand. “Wait a minute, let me go through the drill. You have the right to remain silent, but if you decide to talk to us what you say can be used against you in a court of law; you have a right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to represent you. You understand these rights?”

Chuck looked a little worried. “Tommy, are you arresting me or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that; you’ll know it when I arrest you. We always have to go through this form, and I want you to understand that it’s important that you tell me the truth at all times.”

“Sure; want me to go on?”

“Yeah. You arrived aboard
Fugitive.”

“Right. Harry was at the marina shop getting some beer, but he came back after a couple of minutes.”

“What did you do while you waited?”

“Clare and I chatted.”

“About what?”

“Just small talk.”

“Anything about your trip that day?” “No; I didn’t even know where we were going until Harry got back.”

“Go on.”

“Well, we were out, I don’t know, half an hour or forty minutes when the same thing happened as on the day you came out with us—exhaust began coming up from below.”

“What happened then?”

“Harry stopped the engines and turned on the fan to clear the engine room, then I went below to fix the problem, which was the same as before. The hose clips had loosened, vibration from the engines, I guess, and the exhaust was being poured into the engine room, instead of overboard.”

“What, exactly, did you do to fix the problem?”

“I put the hose back onto the overboard pipe and tightened both clamps. This time I put some safety wire on the clips to make sure they stayed put.”

“How long did all this take, exactly?”

Chuck shrugged. “Eight minutes, maybe—ten, tops.”

“What did you do then?”

“I came back up, Harry started the engines, and we continued out to our dive spot.”

“Who was driving the boat?”

“Harry.”

“Where was Clare all this time?”

“She and I sat on the afterdeck and chatted.”

“What about?”

“Just small talk—her tennis game, whatever.”

“Go on.”

“Well, we arrived at the place, and I went forward to deal with the anchor. Then Harry went, below and handed up three tanks, one for each of us. There’s a compressor in the engine room.”

“Harry handed up the tanks?”

“Yeah. Then we started getting into our gear. Harry was ready first, and he went on ahead of us.”

“Do you remember which tank Harry was wearing?”

“Yeah, it was the red one, I’m sure. I remember the color when I saw Harry on the bottom.”

“Why didn’t Harry wear a life jacket?”

“I suggested that he should, but he said he never bothered. Funny, I could swear he was wearing one the last time we dove together. Do you remember, Tommy? You were there.”

“I believe he was,” Tommy said. “So you gave Harry the red tank, and you chose which one?”

“Harry picked the red tank for himself, and Clare said for me to use the blue one, said it was the guest tank. She took the yellow one.”

“You’re sure she said that?”

“Positive, just as I’m positive Harry chose the red tank for himself.”

“Okay, what happened next?”

“Harry started out before I even had my gear on, and Clare expressed some concern about that, asked me to catch up with him.”

“Was she ready by that time?”

“No, I was ready before she was; I helped her on with her tank, then I went after Harry. He had given me a compass course and a distance.”

“How many minutes would you say Harry was ahead of you?”

“Hard to say, exactly; maybe two minutes, five at the outside.”

“Go on.”

“So I followed Harry out to the wreck. It was further than he had estimated, I think, and there was a current, a knot or two, running. I had to correct my course. The visibility wasn’t so hot, so I was very close to the wreck before I saw it. I was starting to feel sick.”

“Did you see Harry then?”

“Not immediately, not until I got closer. Then he was in plain view on the wreck’s deck.”

“Describe what you saw.”

“He had gotten out of his tank, but he was still attached to it by the connecting hose. The regulator wasn’t in his mouth; his eyes were open, and there was blood in his mask. I knew he had stopped breathing, because there were no bubbles coming from his mouth.”

“What did you do?”

“I went straight for him, and got hold of his wrist. I pulled off the mask, because I knew it was no good to him. I wanted to get him to the surface as quickly as possible. But then I vomited, spat out my regulator in the process, and I really panicked. I yanked the cord on my life jacket, it inflated instantly, and I popped to the surface, kicking to get there faster. When I reached the surface, I was retching and strangling on saltwater at the same time. I guess I was lucky to survive.”

“Did you think about going back for Harry?”

“There was no way I could have done it. It was obvious to me that something was wrong with the air in my tank, so I had nothing to dive with, and Harry was at sixty feet. Also, I was having a lot of trouble breathing properly, coughing up vomit that had gotten into my windpipe. I felt exhausted, and when I started back toward the yacht I had to drop my tank so that I could make it.”

“How long did it take you to get back to the yacht?”

“I don’t know—a lot longer than it had taken me to get out to the wreck, because I was so tired.”

“Make a guess.”

“Well, it must have taken me five or six minutes to reach the wreck, and probably twice that long to get back.”

“Where was Clare all this time?”

“I saw her hanging on to the diving platform, vomiting. I guess she had tried to follow Harry and me, but had gotten sick and turned back.”

“Did you ask her what had happened?”

“No, we were both in pretty bad shape. I helped her onto the platform and out of her tank, then I took a few deep breaths and went up to the cockpit and radioed the Coast Guard.”

“How long before they arrived?”

“Twenty minutes, half an hour. They must have already been in the area.”

“What did you and Clare talk about while you were waiting?”

“I told her about Harry, but she didn’t really respond. She seemed to be in shock or something.”

“But you weren’t in shock?”

“God knows I was shaken up, but I felt better with every breath I took. By the time the Coast Guard arrived I was feeling perfectly normal. I guess Clare was, too, although she didn’t say anything. The lieutenant commented on how well we both looked.”

“You didn’t feel the need of going into a pressure tank, to avoid the bends?”

“No, we were at sixty feet, which is deep enough to make a very slow ascent advisable, but I guess I was down too short a time for that to be a problem; it was sort of what divers call a bounce dive. There was a tank on the cutter, and they offered it to me, but I didn’t think I needed it.”

“Anything else you care to add?”

“No, I guess that’s about it.”

Tommy took a deep breath and blew it out. “Well, we’ve kind of got a problem here, Chuck.”

“What problem?”

“Some of your answers don’t jibe with some of Clare’s answers.”