“He takes an awfully long time to get to the point, Max,” said Dooley.
“He does,” I agreed.
“It’s not just his bodily functions that are delayed, it’s the rest of him, too.”
“Be patient, Dooley. He’s bound to get to the point… at some point.”
“I’m reading an Agatha Christie book, by the way,” said Mr. Durain. “Have you read Agatha Christie?”
“Yes, I have,” said Odelia with an indulgent smile, as Chase’s jaw was working feverishly. The cop clearly didn’t have as much patience as Odelia had.
“I’m reading through her entire oeuvre right now, in chronological order. I always find that the best way to sample a beloved author is to read through their entire oeuvre in chronological order.” He frowned again. “Now where was I?”
“You had just gone to the bathroom and you were waiting for… things to get going,” said Chase helpfully.
“Oh, that’s right. Well, at my age, things sometimes take their sweet time to get going, you see.”
“Yes, I see,” said Chase through gritted teeth.
“So as I was saying, I’d grabbed my Kindle, and out of habit I like to check what time it is, just to know if it’s the middle of the night or closer to the morning. Just to know how much longer I can spend in the arms of Morpheus.”
“Morpheus?” asked Dooley. “Is she Mr. Durain’s wife?”
“It’s an expression,” I said. “Morpheus is the Greek god of dreams.”
“What time was it?” asked Chase, his pencil poised over his notepad.
“One o’clock,” said Mr. Durain. “On the dot.”
“So those shouts and that splashing…” said Odelia
“Must have come on the heels of that.”
“Did you spend a long time reading?” asked Odelia.
“Oh, no, not long. Lately I’ve been able to go much quicker. My doctor has given me some new tablets, you see. Something entirely new and revolutionary—or so he claims. Doctors are always saying that, of course. Though I have to admit that he seems to have hit on something good this time. These tablets are designed to encourage my prostate to release its usual death grip on my urinary tract. And I must say it seems to work a charm. It used to take me ten minutes to do my business and now sometimes I can get away with just under five. Which is an enormous ego boost, I can tell you.” Hegave me and Dooley a cheeky wink, and I gave him a wink in return, though I very much doubt he noticed.
“When you’re old, you learn to savor the simple things in life, don’t you, Max?” asked Dooley.
“Yes, you do, Dooley,” I said.
“Like how long it takes you to go tinkle.”
“So I’d say that the kid who fell into the pool must have done so around one fifteen,” said Mr. Durain, keen to dot those I’s and cross those t’s.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Durain,” said Odelia.
“Yes, you’ve been a great help,” said Chase, though for some reason he couldn’t make it sound as if he actually meant it. Ex-NYPD, you know. They’re used to living life in the fast lane, and unfortunately for him, life in Hampton Cove is lived in the extremely slow lane.
Chapter 24
Once again we were in Uncle Alec’s office, with Chase and Odelia reporting on their progress—or lack thereof—in the case of the drowned young man.
“So time of death seems to be around one fifteen in the morning,” Odelia said in conclusion, as they recounted their recent encounter with the very helpful Mr. Durain. “Which jibes with what the doctor who was called to the scene said last night.”
“And I just received Abe’s preliminary report,” said Uncle Alec, putting on his reading glasses and squinting at his computer screen. “Looks like a simple case of drowning. A modest amount of alcohol in the boy’s system, traces of marijuana, but apart from that, nothing to indicate foul play. No signs of a struggle, no bruises or scratches on his body.”
“So he simply… drowned?” asked Odelia.
“That seems to be the gist of it.”
“But how can a perfectly healthy teenager simply drown?” asked our human.
“It happens, honey,” said Uncle Alec, removing his reading glasses and placing them on top of his head, where presumably he’d soon forget about their existence and start groping around his desk in search of them.
“So he had too much to drink, went for a midnight swim and drowned?” asked Chase.
“That’s about the gist of it. The young man smoked some weed with his friends, drank a couple of glasses, and when he went into the pool, the influence of the alcohol and the weed made him drowsy and caused him to lose his footing and so he went under and didn’t come up. Happens more often than you think.”
“It’s possible he wasn’t used to drinking,” Chase suggested.
“But what about the scream?” asked Odelia.
“The scream?” asked Uncle Alec.
“The scream Mr. Durain heard.”
Uncle Alec shrugged.“It’s possible that he came up for air once, and realized he was in trouble. And then he went under a second time, a third time, and that was it. Game over. I’m sure he didn’t suffer too much—the effect of the alcohol and the dope will have acted like a tranquilizer, causing his natural survival instincts to be dulled.”
“I don’t know, Uncle Alec,” said Odelia, shaking her head. It was clear she wasn’t satisfied with this explanation. “What about his phone that’s gone missing, or his laptop?”
“I’m sure they’ll turn up,” said the Chief.
“We’ve asked Scott Walcott about it, and Layla, but they say they have no idea where Todd’s phone or laptop could be,” said Chase.
“So maybe he left them at home?”
“His mom or dad have no idea either,” said Odelia. “Or his sister.”
“Look, it’s kids,” said Uncle Alec. “They lose their phones all the time. You’ll probably find it under his bed, or in the bushes where he dropped it.”
“That entire backyard was searched by the forensics team, and they haven’t found it,” said Odelia. “We searched his room—both at home and at the Walcotts—and nothing.”
Uncle Alec shrugged. He didn’t seem to think this was such a big deal.
“I think we need to look into this case a little deeper,” said Odelia.
“And I think this is a clear case of death by accidental drowning, and that’s how I’m calling it,” said the Chief stubbornly.
“What about Layla Walcott?” asked Odelia.
“What about her?”
“She dated Todd Bond, and said they split amicably—a mutual decision. But Scott said that his sister was obsessed with Todd.”
“So now you think this Layla killed Todd, is that it?” asked the Chief, rubbing his eyes.
“It’s a possibility,” said Odelia. “A possibility I would like to dig into. Or maybe they were still seeing each other, in spite of their promise to Scott that they’d broken up, only Scott caught them kissing, and flew into a rage and—”
“Killed his best friend? We would have found something on the body to support that theory, Odelia,” said Uncle Alec. “And there was nothing. No signs of a struggle or a fight.”
“Well, I don’t think—”
“Look, this case is closed, all right? I’ve called it. Now if you could please return to Josslyn Aldridge? We still haven’t found her attacker, and frankly I’m starting to worry that we never will.”
“But Uncle Alec…”
“Look, there’s nothing here to indicate that Todd Bond’s death wasn’t an accident—nothing.” He was tapping his desk and looking very stern and strict all of a sudden, and it was clear who was laying down the law in this town, and it wasn’t Odelia or Chase.
“Yes, Chief,” said Odelia.
“So Josslyn Aldridge. I can’t emphasize enough how crucial the time element is in this case. Most likely she was attacked by an opportunistic bag snatcher, and it’s imperative we find this guy before he skips town—if he hasn’t already.”