The Trophy Exchange (A Lucinda Pierce Mystery)

by Fanning, Diane

“Okay. I want you to look these men over carefully. Look at every picture. Take all the time you need.” Lucinda pulled out the sheet of photos and slid it across the table.

  “That one,” she said right away pointing to Evan Spencer.

  “Are you sure, Mrs. Spiers?” Lucinda said taking great care to keep the building excitement out of her voice.

  Thelma leaned forward, her nose nearly touching the pictures. She pointed to Evan again. “Yeah, I’m sure. If it’s not him, it’s his brother.”

  To Lucinda, that sounded like uncertainty. She fought again to keep her face blank. She didn’t want the witness to see her flash of disappointment. “Then you have doubts?”

  Thelma shook her head with vigor. “No, ma’am. Oh no, ma’am. I am sure. That’s just an expression. That’s the spitting image of the man I saw crawling out of that window.” She tapped her finger on Evan’s face.

  “Okay, Mrs. Spiers.” Lucinda handed Thelma a pen. “Please put a little “x” under the picture, write today’s date and sign it on the line below.”

  On the ride back, Lucinda’s head reeled. The thrill of getting a positive ID was tempered by the challenges that lay ahead. The arrest of a prominent citizen always had serious repercussions for the department. One side would be outraged and dropping sound bites about the lofty individual’s innocence before the ink had dried on his palm prints. The rest of the community would be scrutinizing every move made by the department and by the DA’s office, looking for any hints of preferential treatment given to the high and mighty.

  And then there’s Charley and Ruby – those poor little girls. Lucinda made a commitment to do all she could to cushion their pain and make sure they were placed in a good, stable home. Maybe their grandmother. Maybe Kara.

  And who actually murdered Kathleen? Rita? Who the hell is Rita?

  Lucinda returned to the conference room at the station house. “She nailed it, Ted.”

  “She ID’d Evan Spencer?”

  “Sure did. Without hesitation. Without doubt. It’s solid. What’ve you dug up?”

  “Not a lot. Let’s see,” he said flipping through his notes. “Oh, yes, and I quote, ‘a really nice guy,’ ‘brilliant student,’ ‘compassionate individual,’ ‘straight arrow.’ The worst thing anyone said about him was, ‘he annoys me sometimes because he does so much for so many people, it makes the rest of us look uncaring and that makes me feel inadequate.’ And that’s as bad as it gets.”

  “Geez. Any word from the whiz kid in Vice?”

  “No new information, but she’s still digging.”

  “She’s got to find something. No matter how good a mask a psychopath creates, there’s always a peek behind the curtain somewhere.”

  “We still have a lot of people who weren’t reached on the first round of calls.”

  “Gimme some of those and I’ll get busy.”

  For the next few hours Lucinda and Ted worked the phones getting more of the same. Then, Lucinda called one of Lily Spencer’s neighbors on Peakland Place.

  “Lily is a lovely woman,” the neighbor said.

  “You were living there when her family moved in, weren’t you?”

  “I certainly was. That must’ve been thirty years ago by now. Well, maybe not quite that long but definitely more than twenty years ago.”

  “Do you recall where they lived before that?”

  “Recall? I never knew. That was the only problem I ever had with Lily.”

  “What do you mean?” Lucinda asked her.

  “I asked her. I asked Lily point-blank about where she used to live and she wouldn’t tell me. I don’t know what she was thinking. It couldn’t have been all that dreadful – her husband was a doctor after all. But she wouldn’t tell me, and yet she wanted me to sponsor her for our garden club. Now, how could I do that? I didn’t know where she came from. I didn’t know who her people were. I couldn’t very well recommend her for membership without knowing that, now could I?”

  “And you’ve never found out?”

  “Never did. That’s most peculiar, don’t you think?”

  After the call, Lucinda returned to the conference room and related the substance of the conversation to Ted. “What secret could the Spencer family be hiding, Ted? What’s going on here?”

  “Maybe you should drive over to Lynchburg and have a long talk with Mrs. Spencer.”

  “If she won’t tell a good friend, I don’t know why she’d tell me. But it’s worth a shot.”

  “Maybe it has nothing to do with Evan Spencer. Maybe it’s something unsavory in his father’s past?”

  “I thought about that but he’s a doctor. If he did something bad enough that the whole family wanted to hide their past, he’d have lost his license in some state or another. If he did that, how could he get hospital privileges at Virginia Baptist? He might avoid jail time but if his license were jerked, it would be public information. The hospital had to have done a background check.”

  “Maybe it’s time to call the hospital,” Ted said.

  “Maybe it’s time we formed a task force,” Captain Holland said from the doorway of the conference room.

  “Captain, my week’s not up,” Lucinda objected.

  “I got a courtesy call from the publisher of the paper. He says they’re running the serial killer angle in tomorrow’s edition.”

  “Did you ask him to sit on it for a couple days?”

  “Yes I did, and for my efforts, I got a little speech about the right of the public to know and then he told me they’re running it on the front page above the fold. We need to form a task force tonight.”

  “Captain, please, just a few more days.”

  “Lieutenant, it would be in the department’s best interests if you placed calls to the detectives in all the jurisdictions involved. I’ll follow up with their superiors. It would be best if everyone thought this was your idea. I want it to be a done deal before we have to start fielding media phone calls tomorrow morning.”

  Lucinda wanted to object but she studied the firm set of the captain’s jaw, saw the unwavering determination in his eyes and knew this was not a battle she could win. While she considered options, she was vaguely aware of the telephone ringing and heard Ted taking the call. Lucinda looked at the captain and nodded her agreement to his plan.

  “Good. That is your new priority, Lieutenant. Let’s get on it.”

  “Excuse me, Captain,” Branson interrupted. “With all due respect, sir, I think we may have an even higher priority.”

  The captain swiveled his head in Ted’s direction. His displeasure cratered deep lines in his face. “Explain yourself, Branson.”

  “That call was from the doctor’s receptionist. She said that it might not be a matter for concern. It does happen from time to time. He doesn’t always book a return flight until he’s had time to get on the ground and assess the situation, but under these circumstances, she thought I’d want to know.”

  “Know what, Ted?” Lucinda asked.

  Ted inhaled deeply. “She just got a call from an airline confirming Evan Spencer’s flight to Rwanda tomorrow morning – his one-way ticket to Rwanda.”

  Thirty-Seven

  No one needed to say a word. They all knew this flight created a dramatic shift altering the dynamics of the situation. “My office,” was all the captain said. Lucinda and Ted trailed behind him down the hall. They all took their seats in silence.

  After a moment, the captain said, “I hate this. I hate it when the suspect forces our hand before we’re ready.” He grabbed his phone and stabbed in an extension number. “Reed, this is Holland in Homicide. We’ve got a situation and we need your help.” He paused. “Yes, it is urgent and it’s the Kathleen Spencer case. We need warrants to search the house and arrest the husband.” He listened with a furrowed brow. “No, Reed, I do not think my investigators are jumping the gun. Our only suspect has a one-way ticket for a flight that leaves for Rwanda in the morning.” A smile of satisfaction spread across the cap
tain’s face. “Fine. You want to come down here or you want us to go up there?” The captain hung up the phone and said, “He’s on his way. But he’s none too happy about it.”

  Reed strode into the room firing questions before he took his seat. “Spencer was not in the country at the time of his wife’s murder, was he?”

  “No,” Lucinda said. “We suspect he hired someone to kill his wife.”

  “You have any proof of that?”

  “No, but I’d bet if we had a search warrant, there’s a good chance we’d find evidence on his computer or in his papers or on his bank statements or in his phone records.”

  “Do you have any proof of his connection to the other murders?”

  “We have a forensic sketch from an eyewitness. We took a six-pack to her and she picked out Spencer without hesitation.”

  “I hate eyewitnesses. You got any DNA or trace evidence?”

  “We have fibers from a pair of work gloves. We need to specify them in the warrant. We have traces of latex, too, but Spencer’s a doctor, so―”

  “Irrelevant. What about DNA?”

  “The lab is processing DNA from the last scene now.”

  “What about comparative sample from the suspect?”

  “I’ve got a beer bottle,” Lucinda said with a glance to Ted.

  “Okay. I caught that, Lieutenant. What’s going on between you two? What are you not telling me?”

  No one said a word. Holland scowled at his two investigators.

  “Okay, Branson, what is the lieutenant hiding?” Reed asked.

  “Reed!” Lucinda said. “I’m not 100 percent certain that I have Evan Spencer’s sample.”

  “Not 100 percent certain?”

  “Almost certain.”

  “Don’t make me dredge up that tired old horseshoe analogy, Lieutenant. Almost? What the hell does that even mean? Where’d you get this alleged sample?”

  “From the trash can behind his house.”

  “Oh great, Lieutenant, that puts us in a nice gray, muddy area. You couldn’t wait till he put the trash out to the curb, could you?”

  “I know we’ll need to obtain biological samples with a search warrant in order to confirm any DNA profile for court.”

  “So what if you’re wrong, Lieutenant?”

  “I know it’s a gamble, Reed. But what are the consequences? If we act and I’m wrong, we’ll have a PR mess to clean up.”

  “And maybe a legal mess, too, Lieutenant. If you’re wrong, the good doctor could sue and probably make it stick.”

  “But if I’m right and we don’t take immediate action, our only suspect leaves the country tomorrow morning. He won’t have a whole lot of incentive for returning, now will he?”

  Reed’s shoulders slumped. “I hate this,” he said.

  “My words exactly, Reed,” Holland added.

  “But it looks like we have no choice,” Reid said. “Let’s get busy. We’ve got some search warrants to draft.”

  At the Spencer house, Charley sat on a living-room chair reading the latest Lemony Snickett book. Kara and Ruby sat at the kitchen table with a pile of coloring books and a mountain of crayons.

  The telephone rang. “I’ll get it,” Charley said. She picked up the phone in the hallway. “Hello.”

  No response.

  “Hello? Hello?”

  Still nothing. Charley hung up the phone.

  “Who was that, Charley?” Kara asked.

  “Nobody.”

  “Must’ve been a wrong number.”

  Fifteen minutes later the phone rang again. Charley answered and then put down the receiver. “Another wrong number,” she shouted to Kara.

  When the phone rang ten minutes later, Charley rolled her eyes and trudged over to pick it up. This time, someone was there.

  “Chaaarr-leeeee,” a voice whispered.

  Charley slammed down the phone, but before she could get back to her book, the phone rang again.

  “Talk to me, Charley,” the voice whispered.

  Charley slammed the phone down. It rang immediately.

  “Charley, what’s going on?” Kara asked.

  The phone rang again.

  “I don’t know,” Charley said.

  The phone rang a third time.

  “You want me to get that?” Kara asked.

  “No,” Charley said grabbing the receiver on the first trill of the fourth ring.

  “Don’t you know who I am, Charley? Didn’t you see me in the house? Don’t you know I killed your mother?”

  “You’ve got the wrong number,” Charley shrieked.

  Kara rushed into the hallway. “Charley, what’s wrong?”

  “I gotta call the police lady.” She reached into her pocket and fished out Lucinda’s card.

  “Why, Charley?”

  Charley punched in the numbers to Lucinda’s cellphone. “Because that man scared me.”

  “What man Charley?”

  Charley spoke into the phone. “Lucy. This is Charley. I’m scared.”

  Thirty-Eight

  After District Attorney Reed left to take the search-warrant request documents to the judge’s chambers, Lucinda had time for only one deep exhalation of relief before her cellphone rang. “Pierce,” she said.

  Lucinda listened as Charley told her about the phone calls. “Is Kara there?”

  “Uh huh. She’s standing right here.”

  “Can you put her on the phone, please?”

  Without a word, Charley handed the phone to Kara.

  “Kara, how long are you planning on being with the girls today?” Lucinda asked the sitter.

  “Till about five or so. But I was only going home for a couple hours and then coming back. Dr Spencer has to go to bed early because of his flight tomorrow morning. I planned to put the girls to bed and spend the night.”

  “Kara, something’s come up. If you’re needed, can you do without the two-hour break?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay. This is what I need you to do right now. Go around the house and make sure every window and door is locked. And if the phone rings again, don’t let Charley answer it. And if Dr Spencer comes home, Kara, please do not leave without calling me first. Okay?”

  “Not a problem, Lieutenant. But if you’re concerned about the girls’ safety in this house, I can walk them down to my place right now.”

  “No, do not go outside. Not now. If all goes as planned, some police officers will be at the house soon. When they get there, tell one of them that Lieutenant Pierce wants a police officer to walk you down to your house with the girls, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Could you put Charley back on the phone now?”

  “Lucy?” Charley said.

  “Hey, Charley. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ve got it all under control now. Just do whatever Kara says, all right? Don’t open the door and don’t pick up the phone, okay?”

  “Okay. Can you come over?”

  That question zinged straight to Lucinda’s heart. “I can’t do that, Charley, but I’ll send some other policemen over to take care of you. Okay?”

  “Okay, Lucy. I love you.”

  I’m about to destroy her life and she tells me she loves me. “I love you, too, honey. No matter what happens, always remember that. It will never change.”

  It didn’t take long for Reed to return with the judge’s signature on the warrant. The captain took the search warrant for Evan Spencer’s house and the one for his computers to the team he had on standby. Lucinda and Ted snatched up the arrest warrant and headed out the door.

  “Don’t be cowboys,” District Attorney Reed hollered in their wake. “Don’t make a scene.”

  “You want me to drive?” Ted asked.

  “No. My car,” Lucinda said.

  She slid behind the steering wheel and headed across town to the medical office of Dr Evan Spencer, one block away from the hospital.

  “There’s his car,” Ted said pointing to a midnight blue Chrysler
300 parked by the side door of the building.

  Lucinda pulled in and turned her vehicle around. There was an empty space next to Evan’s car, but instead of pulling into it, she parked her car lengthwise across the end of the open area and the rear of the Chrysler, blocking Evans’ car from pulling out. “I want to go in,” she said.

  “I know, me, too, but it’s not worth it to tick off DA Reed right now.”

  “I know.” Lucinda sighed.

  “He’ll be out any minute.”

  Lucinda’s sigh was even bigger this time. “I know.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. The only sound in the car was the tapping of Lucinda’s finger on her armrest.

  “Why don’t you ever want me to drive?” Ted asked.

  “I hate your driving, Ted.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my driving.”

  “I’m sure you don’t think so. You drive like a man.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “In traffic, you don’t brake until you’re nearly up somebody’s rear. At a stop sign, you don’t slow down as you approach. You don’t switch your turn signal on until the last moment. You go where you want without listening to anyone’s directions.”

  “I haven’t had an accident in nearly twenty years.”

  “No credit to your driving, Ted. God obviously sent you an expert guardian angel.”

  “If men are such bad drivers then why are all the jokes about women drivers?”

  “Because men made up all the jokes to divert our attention from the fact that men spend most of their lives with their heads up their butt holes.”

  Ted opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he saw the door to the side entrance crack open. “Look,” he said.

  “Looks like the vindication of your gender will have to wait, Ted.”

  “Vindication? We don’t need no stinkin’ vindication.” The rest of his argument froze in his throat as the side door pulled open and Evan Spencer stepped outside.

  Evan’s brow furrowed as he spotted the vehicle blocking his car. He leaned back into the door and spoke to someone in the building. The two front doors on the car opened up and Lucinda and Ted stepped out.