Overboard

Chapter 1 The Interview

Tom Lynch sat quietly, waiting for the detective to begin. The man was studying a report, probably re-familiarizing himself with the known facts. A woman sat beside him, looking across the table at Tom Lynch, but saying nothing. At length, he closed the folder and spoke.

"I'm Pavel Janecek, Detective Sergeant, E Division. This is Detective Philliponi. We'd like to talk to you about the disappearance of your wife on the night of April 23rd, this year."

"Why?" Tom asked. "I thought this was all covered when I reported her missing to the Coast Guard."

"Perhaps. However, there have been a couple of developments that they wouldn't have been aware of when you gave your account of the incident."

"Such as?"

"How would you describe your relationship with your wife, Mr. Lynch?"

"Fine. It was great. We've been married eighteen years and still going strong. At least ... we were until ... the accident."

"You weren't having any trouble ... you know ... married trouble?"

"No ... not at all!" he said emphatically. "What's this about, Detective?"

"Do you know a man named Brandon Collingsworth?"

"No. Should I?"

"He's one of the senior accountants at Samples and Reed where your wife worked. Are you sure you don't know him?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I didn't have much contact with Veronica's business associates. She didn't report to him, she reported to Marcel Lapierre. They didn't have social occasions that we would attend. Very much a business first and only company. Again, Detective, what's this all about?"

Janecek sighed and leaned back in his chair, still not taking his eyes off Thomas Lynch.

"We had an anonymous tip a few days ago that your wife and Mr. Collingsworth were having an affair. Apparently it had been going on for several months. You knew nothing about this?" he asked sceptically.

Lynch stumbled to say something. The look of shock on his face was telling.

"I don't believe it. An anonymous tip? What does that have to do with her disappearance?"

"Are you saying you had no idea your wife was having an affair with anyone?"

"Yes ... Hell yes!" Tom spat. "I don't believe it. What proof do you have?"

For the first time, Detective Philliponi spoke.

"We interviewed several people at your wife's office. More than one of them suspected there was something going on between Collingsworth and Mrs. Lynch. She wouldn't normally have any contact with him. He was in another department and quite a bit senior to her."

"You're relying on office gossip!" Tom said in an accusatory voice.

"Not entirely, Mr. Lynch," Janecek answered. "We also interviewed Mr. Collingsworth. It took a while, but faced with the rumours and the fact that he thought we had some evidence, he finally admitted that they were seeing each other."

"What evidence?" Tom asked, now pale and looking bewildered.

"The company has security cameras, and by checking them randomly over the past six months, we found several examples of the two of them being quite a bit more friendly than would be appropriate in the office. I think it's safe to say that they were involved at least to some extent and had been for several months."

Tom Lynch's eyes became glassy and he was shaking his head slowly back and forth.

"I can't believe it. I ... there was no hint ... no sign. Why?" he asked, more to himself than the detectives.

Janecek shrugged and Philliponi remained motionless and expressionless as they continued to observe the man.

At length, Tom raised his head and looked at them both.

"Why am I here? Why is the RCMP involved in this?"

"There's a possibility that this could be a suspicious death, Mr. Lynch," Philliponi said. "Perhaps you found out about your wife's cheating and decided to do away with her. Much cheaper than divorce."

"That's crazy. First of all, I didn't know anything about her cheating on me. Secondly, I'm not a murderer. I might have divorced her ... or maybe she was planning on divorcing me, but I wouldn't have killed her."

"That's what all the husbands say," Philliponi said, "but sometimes rage can overtake common sense and bad things happen. You read about it in the papers almost every week."

"So ... are you saying I'm now a suspect in the disappearance of my wife?" Lynch asked aggressively.

"No ... not at this time," Janecek said quietly. "We'd just like to go over the facts with you one more time. I realize you gave the Coast Guard a full report, but we'd like to get your statement on the record here for our own files."

Tom Lynch sat quietly, looking at the two detectives. His mind was working a mile a minute and he was visibly uncomfortable.

"All right. One more time. But if you want to talk to me after this, it will be with my lawyer present. Keep that in mind," he said.

Janecek nodded. Philliponi rose and went to a water cooler, bringing back two cups of cold water, placing one in front of each of the two men before returning to get one for herself.

Janecek opened the file in front of him and passed several pages to his partner. Tom could see that the top page showed Coast Guard letterhead. It was a copy of the statement he gave the morning after the accident. He showed no sign of concern.

"We were entered in the Southern Straits race as we had each year for the past six years," Tom began. "This year the weather was expected to be rough, but not anywhere near as rough as it turned out to be. My boat is well equipped with radar and GPS, plus both Veronica and I had plenty of experience in bad weather, so I wasn't too concerned.

"We took turns at the wheel, with four hours on and four hours off. I set it up so that I took the midnight to four am watch, while Veronica got some sleep. In fact, I didn't plan to wake her unless she woke up herself. I had coffee in a thermos and some energy bars to keep me going.

"Shortly after I took over, the storm started getting more intense and I could see on the radar that it was going to be stronger than forecast. I checked the reports on the various light stations on the marine radio and they confirmed it was going to be a rough night. I put my survival suit on and hooked up my tether, just in case. I left Veronica's suit at the bottom of the companionway so that she wouldn't come on deck without it. That was standard operating procedure for us.

"Everything was fine until just before two am. I had been feeling poorly since midnight, but now I was having internal cramps. They felt like bowel cramps. I've had them before if I've had some tainted food, but these were getting worse. I knew I wouldn't make it until four am without relief, so I pushed the alarm bell for Veronica to let her know I needed her right away. Five minutes later she was on deck, wearing her survival suit. I explained the situation, and she immediately took over, telling me not to come back until I was better.

"I made it to the head and relieved myself. Whatever was bothering me had given me diarrhea and it took a while to purge myself. I could hear something banging on the deck I thought something had come loose and was causing the racket. I was sure Veronica wouldn't leave the helm until I returned, so I cleaned myself up as best I could and suited up to go back up on deck. When I got up to the cockpit, there was no sign of her. I turned on the big deck light and called her name, but there was no answer."

"How long were you away from the cockpit?" Janecek asked.

"I'm not sure. Maybe ... fifteen or twenty minutes. No more."

"Carry on," the detective said.

"The boat was on self-steering, which was unusual. We seldom use that when we are in bad weather. The noise I heard was the inflatable. One of the oars had come out of its cradle and that's what I heard below. I went below again to make sure Veronica hadn't gone to the other head or into one of the cabins, but there was no sign of her. I guess I was in shock. It hadn't quite sunk in that she had gone overboard. It took me a couple of minutes to decide what to do.

"I dropped what little sail we had and started the engine. I circled back the way we had come using the GPS plotter to determine my course. I turned on the deck light again, and began calling her name. I knew it was futile, but I had to do something. While I was motoring, I made a distress call to the Coast Guard and told them what had happened. I'm sure they'll have a recording of it.

"I went back and forth over the area I thought she might have fallen in, but there was no sign of her. With the waves and wind at the time, I'd have to have been very lucky to spot her. As time went on, I began to lose hope. She could last for a while in her survival gear, but with the water temperature where it was, I doubted it would be long enough for us to find her alive.

"The Coast Guard cutter turned up just before four am, and by then I was a basket case. They checked my GPS to confirm the area where she disappeared and began their own search, but I knew just by talking to them that it was hopeless. I had lost her. Somehow, someway, she had fallen overboard and she was gone."

"Your wife's body has never been found?" Philliponi asked, knowing the answer.

Tom Lynch shook his head, looking sadly at the two police detectives.

"Is there anything else that you can think of that might help us clear up this case?" Janecek asked.

"No ... I'm as confused as you are about the ... cheating thing. I don't see how it could be related to her disappearance."

"As I said before," Philliponi stated, "An angry husband might be prone to take revenge on a wayward wife. If she was planning on leaving you for her lover, maybe you figured out how badly you'd come out in the divorce. She'd get half of everything, including your business. So, if you did know about the two of them, you'd have a pretty strong motive."

"No! How many times do I have to tell you? I didn't know anything about her affair. I had no reason to kill her. It was an accident ... that's all. A tragic, horrible accident."

The two detectives sat quietly watching the distraught man in front of them. Was he telling the truth? They had no evidence to the contrary, but he had a motive if he knew of his wife's cheating. Was it just a coincidence that she went overboard, missing without a trace? They were taught not to believe in coincidences.

"That's all for now, Mr. Lynch. We'll contact you if we need to talk to you again. In the meantime, if you're planning any trips out of town, please let us know. This file is not yet closed."

Tom Lynch stood, looking at the two angrily.

"If I'm down here again, I'll have my lawyer with me. I'm not going to be your personal whipping boy while you try and make two and two equal five."

With that, he turned and walked out of the interview room. The pneumatic closer prevented him from the slamming the door as he so desperately wanted to.

"What do you think?" Janecek asked his partner.

"Don't know. It really hinges on whether he knew about her fooling around on him, doesn't it? I guess that's what we have to find out. Did he know?"

Janecek nodded. Any case at all hung on that one question.

Chapter 2 Carrying On

It was more than three months since he had lost Veronica. Three months of turmoil. First the grieving, then, a month ago, the revelation of her affair with someone in her office. What was his name? Collingwood ... Collingworth? He had come to understand why the police were interested in him. He would have motive if he knew of her affair. It put an end to his inward grieving.

Veronica's parents were distraught, of course. Losing their eldest daughter had been very traumatic and they had yet to recover from the shock. Tom sensed that they blamed him for the accident and he felt their withdrawal from him over the past weeks. His only support came from Veronica's younger sister, Connie. She had always been a close friend, having had a crush on Tom when she was a teenager. She was seven years younger than her sister, but now, at thirty-three, was a bright, self-reliant young woman running her own successful interior design business.

Tom's mother was upset at Veronica's death, but not to the extent Tom might have expected. She had accepted the accident as just that, a tragic unforeseen event. It was the second time they had lost a family member. Tom's father had died six years ago on a business trip to China. He had been robbed and murdered near his hotel in Shanghai. The three men were quickly captured, tried, convicted, and executed. It had been little consolation to Marion Lynch or Tom, their only child, or to Tom's family.

At the young age of thirty-two, Tom Lynch had become president and CEO of Lynchpin Plastics. Now, with the death of Veronica, his mother transferred all her affection to him and her grandsons, believing they needed her support and love. Tom had yet to decide what to do about his future. The twins, Vern and Tony, were in their final year high school. Vern was writing for an academic scholarship to a local university, while Tony planned to take plastics technology at the nearby technical college. Tony saw himself as his father's natural partner at Lynchpin.

The two boys had seemed to be handling their mother's death more easily than their father. Tom had told no one about his wife's infidelity or the police interview, and saw no reason to reveal what he had been told. They had held a memorial service for Veronica three weeks after her disappearance. A plaque was placed at a shady site in a park near her parents' home after a small service for the immediate family, conducted by their local minister. That small gesture was well received by her father, but Veronica's mother was still distant and cool toward Tom. Only her grandsons felt her love and sorrow.

Connie had developed the habit of dropping in on Tom on the weekends, knowing he hadn't touched the sailboat since the accident. She tried to encourage him to get out, taking her or the boys or both along with him, but he steadfastly declined. He wondered aloud if he should sell the Lynchpin Lady, but the boys and Connie had raised such a fuss against doing it that he let the subject drop. And so it sat, forty-six feet of fibreglass and teak, rocking gently at its dock in Fisherman's Cove.

Tom was thankful to have his business. It needed attention and that took his mind off Veronica and his other problems. Lynchpin Plastics specialized in rigid plastic containers made of PET: Polyethylene Terephthalate. It was commonly found in soft drink, juice, and water bottles, but now was being used as an almost universal substitute for glass as well as metal can.

Tom's father had recognized early on that the soft drink and water business was far too competitive for a local medium-sized converter like Lynchpin, so he looked in other directions. Pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, specialty food products, and other segmented market opportunities were the targets, and the company had thrived on his foresight. Tom had simply followed on in his father's footsteps, keeping his sights on the markets that they could fit into profitably.

Tom had hired an old friend and classmate at college to be his sales manager. Brian Edgar was the same age as Tom, 40, and was married with two children, Shania, 11, and Ronnie, 9. His wife, Virginia, was also an old classmate from college. They had started their family a good deal later than Tom and Veronica, but were devoted parents and good friends.

Brian and Tom were on the same wavelength when it came to their strategy for the business. They worked closely together to seek out new opportunities and new products. If his father could have seen him now, he would have been immensely proud of Tom and where he had taken Lynchpin.

Even though Tom hadn't set foot on the Lynchpin Lady since the accident, his refuge was still the yacht club. To be specific, the club dining room and bar. He was well known and well liked around the club. His father had served as Commodore for two terms and Tom was expected to follow in his footsteps. The dramatic and tragic events during the Southern Straits race had put a hold on that. Just the same, he felt comfortable in these surroundings and often had the boys join him for dinner.

It was a Friday evening in mid-July after another long week at the plant when Tom stopped in at the club. He had invited the boys to meet him there, but Tony had plans with his current girlfriend, so only Vern would be joining him. He'd been there about a half hour, nursing a scotch and soda when he saw Vern enter the dining room. He had a visitor with him as well. Connie Fairly was following closely behind.

"Hi Dad, I didn't think you'd mind if Aunt Connie joined us since Tony couldn't make it."

"Tom, will you please tell your son not to refer to me as Aunt Connie. It's making me feel old," she said petulantly.

"Vern, you should respect your aunt's wishes."

"So ... I should just call her Connie?" he asked carefully.

"Sure ... or Babe ... or Hot Stuff," Tom cracked.

The laughter by the three of them was contagious. It was the first time Tom could remember laughing in quite a while.

"Don't you dare, Vernon Lynch," she said, poking him in the chest with her finger. "You may call me Connie or Ms. Fairly in more formal surroundings."

Vern shrugged, looked at his father and grinned. There hadn't been very many light moments for any of them in the last three months.

Friday night was fish and seafood night in the dining room, and each of them chose a different entrée. The food was always prepared and presented well and that evening was no exception. The conversation was light and upbeat until the dessert tray was wheeled to the table.

Connie and Tom declined, but Vern chose a New York cheesecake that was large enough for all three of them. Their waiter saw the reaction and promptly presented three forks with a smile.

"I've got to stop eating here," Tom said, leaning back in his chair. "I'll weigh three hundred pounds if I don't.

"Nonsense," Connie said immediately. "You're still the hunk you were when you were dating my sister."

"Ooooohhhh," Vern said with a smirk. "Guess who's got the hots for Dad?"

"Careful, young man," Tom said seriously. "You are on dangerous ground. This is family, not one of your teenage bull sessions."

"Don't get all bent out of shape, Tom. Vern didn't mean anything by it ... did you Vern?"

"Ah ... no ... sure ... I didn't mean to upset you, Dad." He looked genuinely concerned.

"I'm not upset, but there are some topics that aren't for public consumption ... or private for that matter," Tom said quietly, all the while looking at Connie.

"Party Pooper," Connie grinned.

"Now don't you go leading my son astray, Connie. I'm trying to raise the two of them to be proper gentlemen."

"Good luck with that," she laughed. Vern wasn't far behind with a snort of his own.

As coffee was served, Vern turned to Tom and asked, "Is it okay if you drive Connie to our place, Dad. She left her car there and I've got a date in another half hour. I didn't want to rush you."

"That's fine. Don't be too late, but have a good time," Tom said with a smile.

As Vern excused himself and left the dining room, Connie turned to Tom.

"You've raised two really great young guys, Tom. You must be very proud."

"I have to give a lot of the credit to Veronica. She guided them along and you're right, I am very proud of them."

"They'll be leaving the nest one of these days soon. What are you going to do then?" Connie asked.

"Don't know. Haven't really thought about it. Downsize, I guess. Maybe a condo. I might even live on the Lady."

"You haven't been aboard since the accident, have you?"

"No. Just can't seem to work up any enthusiasm."

"I know the boys would love to go out with you. So would I, for that matter. I love that boat almost as much as you do."