Murder on the Cliff (29 page)

“Thank you very much,” she replied.

Charlotte and Lew met Sullivan and his assistant, a young policeman named Brogan, in the parking lot at Brenton Point State Park at ten. They had wanted to get to The Bells in plenty of time to avoid running into Billy. Sullivan asked them to join him and Brogan in their unmarked van, and for a few minutes, they discussed their plans. Sullivan and Brogan would wait inside the building; Charlotte and Lew would wait in the underbrush along the path. A backup team would be waiting in the parking lot in three other unmarked cars in case additional help was needed, and to monitor the arrivals and departures of the blackmailer and his victim. All the cars were parked at the end of the long parking lot that lined Ocean Drive, far enough away from The Bells not to arouse suspicion. On a weekend, there would have been plenty of other people around—lovers, stargazers, fishermen—but tonight there were only a few other cars. Charlotte and Lew were there strictly oh sufferance. Sullivan and Brogan would be doing the dirty work; Charlotte and Lew would be the witnesses. Sullivan could hardly have kept them away—it was because of Charlotte that they were there in the first place—but he had given them a strict lecture about not getting involved. If there was any shooting, they were to lie low and stay low. He didn’t want a dead film star on his hands, or a dead city solicitor either.

“And keep quiet,” he further instructed them.

After radioing back to the station, he reached for the door handle. “Now we’re off to meet our mystery murderer,” he said.

“He’s not a mystery murderer,” said Charlotte. It was her first chance to get a word in edgewise.

“What do you mean, he’s not a mystery murderer?” said Sullivan as he opened the door and then shut it again.

“I know who the murderer is, and why he killed Okichi-
mago
.”

Sullivan turned around, his gray eyebrows flying up in surprise.

Charlotte removed the photograph from her pocketbook and passed it across the back of the seat to Sullivan. As she did, Lew craned his neck to see.

Sullivan switched on the interior lights and studied the photo. “What the hell is this?” he barked.

“This is a picture that was taken by Ken Mori at the Temple of Great Repose on the night of the geisha party.”

The picture showed two women standing side by side at the railing looking out to sea; it was taken from the rear. “One is Okichi-
mago
and the other is Marianne Montgomery. Can you tell which is which?”

“Nope. They look the same to me.”

“That’s exactly my point,” said Charlotte. She remembered thinking that night how much they looked alike. Both women were the same height and shape. Both wore navy blue kimonos embroidered in gold with a small pattern, both wore the high black-lacquered pompadour that geisha wear on special occasions, and both were wore white
tabi
socks and black-lacquered
geta
.

“Let me see that,” said Lew, reaching over the seat.

Sullivan passed it back.

“They look like twins,” said Lew.

“It was a case of mistaken identity,” said Charlotte. “Okichi-
mago
was killed by Lester, who thought she was Marianne.” She proceeded to explain. “Marianne has a long history of sexual promiscuity, or rather, had—until she met Lester. That was five or six years ago. She’s been pretty good since then, but there have been occasional lapses.”

“Lapses,” snorted Sullivan.

“She’s particularly prone to lapses after a big success; it’s as if success gets her hormones flowing. Anyway, when she met Shawn at the opening ceremonies of the Black Ships Festival, she had just unveiled a new collection to rave reviews. It was clear from the body language she was sending Shawn’s way that she was on the verge of another lapse.”

“Sounds like a drunk going on a bender,” said Sullivan as Lew passed the picture back to him.

“That’s a pretty accurate analogy, in fact. At the geisha party that night, she flirted outrageously with Shawn. Shawn was committed to Okichi-
mago
, but Marianne was ignoring that. At the party, Shawn sang a song about meeting his lover at the rendezvous tree. As the party was breaking up, Lester and Marianne had a fight, and Marianne told him she would walk home.”

“What was the fight about?” asked Sullivan.

“He called her a nasty name. Correction: every nasty name in the book. After that, Lester drove Spalding and Connie and me back to Briarcote and then returned to Shimoda.”

“To kill Marianne?”

“I don’t think he was planning to kill her then. Maybe he felt bad about leaving her stranded there, or maybe he just wanted to see what she was up to. In any case, he passed Shawn on the way. Paul had given Shawn a ride back to The Waves after the party, but Shawn was returning for the rendezvous with Okichi-
mago
under the pine tree.”

“Lester sees Shawn and thinks he’s going back to meet Marianne?”

“Exactly. Lester must have known about the romance between Shawn and Okichi-
mago
, but it didn’t make any difference: in his eyes, Shawn was going back to meet Marianne. Maybe he made the connection with the song or maybe the song went over his head—it doesn’t really matter. Meanwhile, Marianne had decided to walk home on the Cliff Walk.”

“In this get-up?” said Sullivan, waving the photograph.

“She took it off and walked home in her under-kimono.”

Sullivan shook his head, but he didn’t doubt her. He’d seen far stranger behavior from the summer colonists.

Charlotte went on to describe what had happened: “When Lester arrives back at the temple, he comes upon a woman standing at the railing, waiting for her lover. He thinks the woman is Marianne; it’s dark, and from the back they look alike. The sight of her confirms his suspicion that she has stayed behind to meet Shawn. Her flirtation with Shawn is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. He’s seen this happen before. He’s accepted her apologies and believed her pledges that it wouldn’t happen again. Now it
is
happening again. Overcome by a jealous rage, he pushes her over the railing.” She remembered Paul’s story about Lester trying to smash his car. At the time, she thought he was exaggerating, but now she suspected he was telling the truth.

“I told you there was nothing that guy wouldn’t do,” said Lew.

Charlotte nodded and continued with her story: “But as the face of his victim spins around, Lester realizes that the woman he has killed isn’t Marianne, but Okichi-
mago
.” Charlotte remembered the staring, slanted eyes of the dummy; she could imagine Lester’s horror when he saw Okichi-
mago
’s face. “At first, he’s shocked by what he’s done. But when he considers his dilemma, he realizes that he’s actually in a better position with Okichi-
mago
as his victim than he would be had he succeeded in killing Marianne. He’s familiar with the Okichi legend as a result of living at Shimoda. He knows that she died by jumping off a cliff, and he knows that she died exactly a hundred years ago. He decides to make the death look like a suicide.”

“What about Shawn?” asked Lew.

“Shawn’s on his way, and Lester knows it,” said Charlotte. “He’s pretty sure Shawn didn’t see him on the road—pedestrians don’t usually notice the drivers of the cars that pass them by, especially late at night. But his car is a problem. After moving his car out of sight behind the carriage house—he must have moved it because Shawn didn’t say anything about seeing it—he conceals himself behind the shrubbery and waits for Shawn. Shawn arrives a few minutes later, walks out to the temple, looks around for Okichi-
mago
, and, not finding her, leaves. Lester is betting that he won’t peer over the railing at the rocks below, and he doesn’t.”

Sullivan stared out over the dashboard, his thick pink fingers tapping a nervous tattoo on the wheel.

“Now Lester’s work begins. Fate is working with him: Paul has gone out, as he discovered when he moved his car around to the back of the carriage house. The dog hears him, but since there’s no one home to hear the dog [except Tanaka, she thought], it doesn’t matter. Lester enters the house. Though he has a key, he doesn’t need to use it. Expecting Paul to return momentarily, Nadine left the door unlocked when she went home. Then he removes the comb and mirror and the sake cup from their cases, taking care not to leave any fingerprints. As a Federal felon, he knows his prints are on file and if by chance his scheme doesn’t work, he doesn’t want to be identified as the murderer.”

“The extra sake cup,” said Lew.

“The extra sake cup,” she repeated.

“But if Lester saw Okichi-
mago
’s face,” said Lew, “why didn’t he see the extra sake cup in her hand?”

“I don’t know,” said Charlotte. “Maybe he didn’t look at her outstretched hand. Or maybe he saw it, but it didn’t register. He was under considerable stress.” She continued: “Then he carries the comb, the mirror, and the sake cup out to the temple and plants them by the brazier. He also burns Tanaka’s business card, just as Okichi burned Harris-san’s calling card in the legend.”

“Or in the movie,” said Lew.

Charlotte smiled.

“I always said that these movies put ideas in people’s heads,” said Sullivan, who had stopped tapping and started taking notes. “How’d he get Tanaka’s business card?”

“Tanaka had been handing out his business cards to the other guests earlier in the evening,” she replied. “The Japanese are always handing out business cards.”

Sullivan nodded.

“As for Billy,” Charlotte continued, “while Lester is pushing Okichi-
mago
over the railing, Billy is sitting on the point, drinking beer. Maybe he’s dreaming of being able to buy back his yacht,
Bastet
, which he lost in a divorce settlement. Anyway, when he witnesses the murder, he realizes that this is his chance: Lester can easily afford to fork over enough money for Billy to buy his boat back in exchange for Billy’s keeping his mouth shut. Billy calls Lester the next day, disguising his voice. He asks Lester to start getting the money together, with the first installment to be paid Sunday night. He tells him to look in the ‘Personal Notices’ column of the
Providence Sunday Journal
for further instructions. The
Journal
gives the locations of the drop-offs: the first at the bridge at Purgatory, the second at The Bells.”

“Which is what brings us here tonight,” said Lew.

“Meanwhile Lester is trying to figure out who the blackmailer is. He thinks back to that night. Maybe Shawn recognized him on the road or recognized the car. He concludes that it is Shawn who is the blackmailer.”

“Another case of mistaken identity,” says Lew.

“Lester starts making arrangements of his own. He’s served eighteen months; he doesn’t want to be put behind bars again. He’s not taking any chances that the blackmailer will keep his end of the bargain. He calls some of his former jail-house acquaintances and arranges to have Shawn killed. It doesn’t hurt that Shawn had also been the object of Marianne’s affections.”

“He would have had no problem finding a small-time hood to carry out the job in this state,” said Sullivan.

“He wouldn’t have done it himself?” asked Lew.

“I don’t think so,” said Charlotte. “He strikes me as the kind of guy who delegates responsibility.” Suddenly she remembered the man with the field glasses who had watched Shawn and her that morning. She wondered if he was the contract killer. She mentioned the incident to Sullivan, who made a notation. Then she continued: “Lester had attended the sumo match and knew about the hostility toward Shawn. He instructs the killer to make it look as if a rival sumo wrestler was the murderer by cutting off Shawn’s topknot.”

“First this guy mistakes Okichi-
mago
for Marianne, then he mistakes Shawn Hendrickson for Billy Montgomery. I’d say he has a real problem figuring out who’s who,” said Lew.

“Or else he’s just an unlucky guy,” said Charlotte.

“An unlucky guy who’s going to be even more unlucky in a few minutes,” said Sullivan. He checked his watch. “We’d better get going before they start the party without us.”

13

Charlotte was hidden in the underbrush at the side of the grassy path that led to the walled courtyard of The Bells. Lew was hidden about ten feet away, also at the side of the path. Both had an excellent view of the path and of the courtyard itself. The moon, which had been full only a few days before, shed a lot of light, and it was still clear, though puffs of fog had begun to blow in off the ocean. Sullivan had theorized that the murderer would leave the money either in the courtyard or on the first floor. He was hiding in one of the second-floor dormers, far enough away from the stairs that Billy wouldn’t see him if he decided to wait for the murderer on the second floor himself. Brogan was on the roof. Now all they had to do was be patient. In the darkness, Charlotte became conscious of all kinds of scratching, rustling, and drumming noises that she wouldn’t otherwise have noticed. She tried to remember from long-ago science classes which animals were nocturnal: raccoons, mice, skunks, bats, nightcrawlers? Every once in a while, there were other sounds: the plangent call of a whippoorwill, the eerie trill of an owl, and a ratchety noise that sounded like an old clock being wound up, a tree frog perhaps? There was also the honk of the Brenton foghorn and the clanging of a bell buoy, like an empty can being kicked along the street. The damp air was fragrant with a mixture of smells: the salty tang of the sea, the sweet, humusy smell of damp earth, the intoxicating sweetness of honeysuckle flowers in bloom, and the sharp, unpleasant odor of overgrown privet.

As she waited, her thoughts drifted off to Jack Lundstrom, her fourth husband. Contrary to her expectations, he had never shown up. She couldn’t accuse Connie and Spalding of being co-conspirators in an effort to get them back together, after all. She wasn’t sure whether she was happy or sad about it. She was very fond of Jack—he was always good company, and there were often times when she was lonely—but she wasn’t sure she was ready to become a wife again. After trying it four times, she figured that it was about time for her to throw in the towel on wifedom. Then again, as the poet said, hope springs eternal in the human breast; maybe it would work if she gave it another try. Her thoughts were interrupted by another sound, distinct from the scratching and rustling. It was the sound of footsteps on the grass. They were the furtive footsteps of a heavy-footed man who was trying not to make noise. She hunkered down into her nest in the underbrush. The man passed a minute later. From her hiding place, she could only see his lower half. But that was enough: he was wearing reptile skin cowboy boots. It wasn’t Billy who had arrived first, but Lester. Over his shoulder, he carried an airline flight bag that bulged at the seams. Crouching down a little further, she saw him enter the courtyard, pause for a minute, and drop the flight bag. Then he turned around and left as stealthily as he had come. When he reached the parking lot, Sullivan’s men would take him into custody. Meanwhile the flight bag sat in a pool of moonlight in the middle of the courtyard. If Billy had demanded seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, the bag would contain a third of that. But Charlotte suspected that he had asked for a million. It was a nice, even figure: seven hundred and fifty thousand for the boat, plus another two hundred and fifty thousand for operating expenses. In which case, the flight bag would contain three hundred and thirty-three thousand. Not a bad haul at all.