The Trophy Exchange (A Lucinda Pierce Mystery)

by Fanning, Diane

  Evan heard the car doors shut and turned back to face Ted and Lucinda. “What do you want now?”

  Lucinda held up the arrest warrant in her hand. “You’re under arrest for suspicion of four counts of murder including that of Kathleen Spencer.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Evan asked.

  Ted approached Evan dangling a pair of handcuffs. “Turn around, Doctor,” Ted said.

  “You’re arresting me?”

  “Please turn around, Doctor,” Lucinda said. “Please don’t resist.”

  “I want my lawyer,” Evan said.

  “Fine, Doctor, we’ll take care of that down at the station. Now turn around.”

  Evan Spencer swiveled on his feet. Ted snapped the cuffs on his wrists and escorted him to the back seat of the vehicle. As Lucinda pulled the car out into traffic, Ted pulled the card out of his pocket and read Evan Spencer his rights.

  “I’m not talking without my lawyer present,” Evan said.

  “Fine, Doctor,” Lucinda said looking at her prisoner in the rear-view mirror. “Spoken like a very smart, but very guilty man.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Tammy Johnson looked like a pushover. She claimed to be 5' 2" tall, but she exaggerated a bit, and she weighed only 102 pounds on a fat day. Her looks were deceiving.

  Raised as the only girl in a family of five boys, she’d learned to stand her ground before she’d learned to walk. When she ventured outside into the real world, life got tougher – there survival meant struggle. Tammy was a fighter before she started kindergarten.

  At the age of twelve, she’d moved south to be raised by an aunt after her mother died in a Brooklyn drive-by shooting. Now at the age of twenty-seven, she took crap from no one. She worked hard, too, with determination and a consistent willingness to do more. She’d clawed her way up to a middle management position at the corporate headquarters of a retail chain.

  A year earlier, she’d become a homeowner when she purchased the small, one-bedroom home in a neighborhood filled with larger, more upscale houses. Her residence was an anomaly in the block and so was she.

  She slid the key into the front doorknob. Once inside, she threw the deadbolt and slipped off her shoes. She padded in stockinged feet into the kitchen and grabbed a can of Diet Coke with lime from the refrigerator. She took a long swallow of the icy cold drink then, carrying the can, walked down the hall to her bedroom. She set the soft drink down on the top of her dresser, took off her suit jacket and tossed it on the bed.

  She unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt and reached for the soda can. When she did, she saw the reflection of her closet door in the mirror and she saw the door move. A lot of women would scream, many would freeze in fear, some would take off running. Not Tammy. The realization that someone was hiding in her bedroom didn’t make her frightened; it pissed her off.

  She stopped undressing and primped her hair in front of the mirror giving no outward signs of her awareness of a trespasser in her home. She waited for him to make his move, while the snake of vengeance curled tight in her chest.

  She watched the closet door ease open as she ran her pinky finger over her lips pretending to care about the state of her lipstick color. She saw a stealthy move as his body shifted preparing to pounce.

  He flew out of the closet faster than Tammy thought possible. He threw the length of rope over her head. She lowered her chin flat down on her neck and caught the rope between her teeth. When he pulled back, the coarse fiber cut into the corners of her lips. She threw an elbow backwards and caught him hard enough under the chin to make his teeth rattle. He moaned and staggered back a few steps.

  She ran into the hall with the ends of the rope dangling from her mouth. He leaped and threw his arms around her fleeing body. She fell forward with her left arm twisted beneath her. She heard a crack and felt a breathtaking burst of pain as his weight fell on her.

  She tried to push up with both arms – another sharp knife blade of pain. Her left arm was useless. She rolled. In one smooth move, she pushed up his goggles and stuck the fingers of her right hand into one of his eyes and twisted. He screamed and pushed her hand away from his face.

  She leveraged her weight against the wall with her right arm and forced herself to her feet. She staggered to the kitchen and grabbed a cast-iron skillet off the stove. As he came around the corner, she slammed the skillet into his face. He fell to his knees.

  She dropped the skillet and raced to the front door. She whimpered as she fumbled with the deadbolt. She pulled the door open and ran outside, into the street, her left arm hanging at an odd angle by her side. She flagged down a neighbor as he pulled into his driveway on his way home from work.

  Inside, her attacker was stunned. His mouth bled. His eyes hurt. He looked around for his rope but couldn’t find it. He stumbled out the kitchen door into the backyard and headed for the cover of a nearby stand of trees.

  Forty

  On the way back to the station Lucinda pulled up to the hospital to execute a search warrant on the person of Evan Spencer. A trained nurse drew a vial of blood, labeled it and placed it into a larger glass container, sealed the end, then added the date and her initials.

  “Open wide,” she said and thrust an oversized swab into Evan’s mouth and swiped the side of his cheek. She secured that swab and said, ‘One more.’ She swabbed the other side of his mouth, put it away and pulled out a pair of tweezers.

  “Who is Rita, Doctor?” Lucinda asked.

  “As I said, Lieutenant, I’m not answering any questions until my lawyer’s present.” He winced with each hair the nurse plucked from the top of his head.

  When she had six hairs secured in the small Manila envelope, the nurse turned to Lucinda and said, “Last step now. Pubic hair samples.”

  “Lovely,” Lucinda said as she walked out of the room. Ted stayed behind to observe. When the two men emerged, Lucinda said, “When you’re having an affair, Doctor, it’s not smart to bring your paramour into your home.”

  “Rita is not . . .” Evan began then clamped his jaw shut. “I have nothing more to say to you until I’ve consulted with my attorney.”

  When they reached the police department, Lucinda escorted Evan through the work area and into a room that was bare except for a table and four chairs. Then, she left him there alone. Evan sat behind the closed door of the interrogation room awaiting the arrival of his attorney.

  Lucinda paced between the cubicles in the work area outside. She didn’t want to give Evan credit for anything but she couldn’t deny him when he’d expressed concern about his girls on the ride to the station. He seemed sincere in his relief and gratitude when Lucinda told him about the step she’d taken to ensure their safety. Beyond that, he said nothing, but: “My lawyer, please.”

  A suit stepped into the outer work area. Every hair in place. The knot of his tie tied to perfection. Pants creased to sharpness. Shoes polished bright. If that isn’t an attorney, Lucinda thought, it has to be a politician. “Are you the good doctor’s lawyer?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Stephen Theismann.”

  “Lieutenant Pierce,” Lucinda said. She ignored his outstretched hand and turned to the department secretary. “Barbara, will you please call the district attorney and let him know the doctor’s official mouthpiece is here.”

  “I object to that, Lieutenant,” Theismann blustered.

  “We’re not in court, Theismann. You can put your indignation away and save your theatrics for a jury. We’re in my space now. We have different rules here. Follow me.”

  In the interrogation room, Theismann took a seat beside his client and Lucinda sat down across the table from the two men. “Dr Spencer,” she said looking straight at Evan, “who did you hire to kill your wife?”

  Both men responded at the same time. Theismann said, “Don’t answer that.”

  Evan said, “No one.”

  “Evan, please do not answer any questions until I tell you to do so,” The
ismann ordered. “Lieutenant, I’d appreciate it if you’d direct your questions to me.”

  Lucinda ignored him and gave all her attention to Evan. “Who is Rita?”

  Evan turned to his attorney who shook his head in response. “I can’t answer that on the advice of my attorney,” Evan said.

  “It’s a simple question, Doctor. The woman spent the night in your home. If you’re comfortable enough to have her under the same roof with your daughters, surely you can answer a simple question about who she is.”

  “Lieutenant, my client has already responded to that question,” Theismann said. “Please move on.”

  “Cooperation is in your client’s best interest, Mr. Theismann.”

  “I doubt that, Lieutenant.”

  “What else are you hiding from me, Doctor?”

  “Please be more specific, Lieutenant, or I’ll be forced to terminate this interview.”

  “Very well. Doctor, where were you on Sunday, March 27, of last year?”

  “Don’t answer that, Evan,” Theismann said.

  “Where were you on Friday, October 7, of last year?”

  “Don’t answer that.”

  “Where were you on Saturday, February 25, of this year?”

  “Don’t answer that.”

  “Where were you on Wednesday, May 10, of this year?”

  “Don’t answer that.”

  “Where were you―”

  Evan slammed his open palms on the surface of the table. “I’ve answered all these questions already, Lieutenant.”

  “Evan, please,” Theismann said.

  The door to the interrogation room opened and District Attorney Reed stepped inside. Theismann rose to his feet and stuck out his hand. “So good to see you, Mr. Reed. My client and I would be delighted to discuss this misunderstanding with you, like gentlemen. One attorney to another, man to man, I’m sure we can clear this up in no time. You must know how impossible it is to talk civilly with an embittered detective.”

  Reed shoved his hands in his pants pockets and stared. He blinked three times then swiveled his head to Lucinda. “Lieutenant, if you need me, I’ll be outside.”

  “Mr. Reed!” Theismann objected as the door pulled shut and he and his client were alone again with Lucinda.

  Lucinda enjoyed watching the red flare bright on Theismann’s cheekbones. She loved it when insufferable bores were put in their place. She lowered her head to conceal her grin. She waited until the lawyer had settled back in his seat and then whipped out a close-up photo of Kathleen Spencer’s face and slapped it on the tabletop. “Rather brutal way for the mother of your two children to die, wasn’t it, Doctor?”

  After a quick glimpse, Evan turned his face away. A strangled noise escaped from his throat.

  “Don’t answer that, Evan.”

  “Oh, you’re sensitive about that, aren’t you, Doctor? I’m so sorry. I forgot. You couldn’t bear to kill her yourself. You had to pay someone else to do it for you, didn’t you?”

  “Don’t answer that.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Don’t answer that.”

  Lucinda saw tears forming in Evan’s eyes. Self-pity, too bad, she thought and pressed on. She slapped down photos of the three faces from the triple homicide and pointed to the shot of the little girl. “Did you enjoy doing this one, Doctor? Did you rejoice in your power and control when you smashed her brains into the floor? It must have been so easy. She was just a little girl – about Charley’s age, I believe.”

  “Lieutenant, that is quite enough,” Theismann growled.

  “No, not quite,” she snapped back. “Those are the only murders he’s charged with. Here are the others we suspect he committed.” She slammed down seven more photos.

  “This is ridiculous,” Theismann said.

  The door to the interrogation room opened again. This time, Ted stuck in his head. “Lieutenant?”

  Without looking away from Evan, she said, “Not now.”

  Reed stuck his head in the doorway and barked, “Yes, now, Lieutenant.”

  Lucinda glared at the district attorney, then turned back to face the two men at the table. “These pictures show you how serious the situation is. Take a good look at them. And think about them – think hard. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment.”

  Forty-One

  “How dare you?” Lucinda snarled through clenched teeth.

  “Lieutenant, it was essential,” Reed soothed.

  “Essential? The suspect had tears in his eyes. I had him that close. Who knows if I can ever get him there again.”

  “It may not matter, Pierce. There’s a situation that needs to be addressed before you go back in that room.”

  “Not matter? What? What are you talking about?”

  “While you’ve been occupied with Dr Spencer, something’s happened that points away from his guilt.”

  “It can’t hold up. We’ve got a positive identification from an eyewitness,” Lucinda objected.

  “And maybe your eyewitness is right, but maybe she’s wrong. We’ve got to answer the questions posed by this new development before we gamble on that ID. Ted, fill her in.”

  “This afternoon,” Ted began, “about the same time we were pulling into the hospital parking lot, a woman was running out of her home with a rope clenched between her teeth. A man attempted to strangle her in her home with that rope.”

  “Ligature strangulation doesn’t happen every day, but that’s a pretty tenuous connection,” Lucinda said.

  “There’s more. A cast-iron skillet was recovered from the scene – it had blood and tissue on it.”

  “You’re kidding.” Lucinda sucked in a sharp breath. A whirlwind of contradictory thoughts laid waste to Lucinda’s clean line of logic that implicated Evan Spencer. How can this be possible?

  Ted continued, “And the description of the perp is similar to the one at the triple, too.”

  “Where’s the surviving victim?”

  “At the hospital. She’s got a broken arm and a lot of bruises and scrapes but otherwise she’s okay.”

  “Ted, before you go, could you print out another copy of the six-pack we used to get the Spencer ID? I want to run over to the hospital and have our survivor take a look at it.” Turning to Reed, she said, “This makes no sense. The witness positively ID’d Spencer.”

  “I told you I hate eyewitnesses. Where do we stand on the DNA testing?” Reed asked.

  “I expect something sometime tomorrow.”

  “I can’t hold him overnight, unless you can shoot down the connection between tonight’s attack and the triple homicide. But if you can’t, and all the puzzle pieces fit together, I’ve got to let him go.”

  “They can’t fit. It makes no sense. We can’t risk him leaving the country before the DNA results are in.”

  “Then get busy, Lieutenant. I can stall them for a while but Theismann won’t let me do it for long.”

  A nurse escorted Lucinda to the cubicle where Tammy Johnson sat on the end of the bed sporting a fresh cast. As she walked in, Tammy said, “Whoa, girl. You look worse off than me. You want to climb up here, too?”

  “No, Tammy, my wounds aren’t fresh – yours are. You can keep the doctors to yourself.” Maybe I should just cut a couple of holes in a sack and keep it pulled over my head. “I’m Lucinda Pierce from Homicide.”

  “Lordy, I’m not dead, am I?”

  “No,” Lucinda laughed. “This sure isn’t heaven and it’s not bad enough for hell either.”

  “Wanna bet? I hear one meal in this place, and you’d change your mind about that real quick.”

  “I’m here, Tammy, because there’s a possibility your attack is connected to a recent murder.”

  “Really? Wow! I guess I didn’t overreact after all. The nurse said I can leave soon. Can I go back to my home, Lieutenant?”

  “You can leave here, Tammy, but the techs are still all over your house. Do you have some place to go?”

  “Y
eah. I’ll stay with my cousin. She’s on her way here now. I’ll need someone to help me dress for a while anyway. I’m so pissed off that the bastard broke my arm. And my skillet. I was told you all took my skillet. That was my granny’s skillet. I really want it back.”

  “It’s in the lab now, Tammy. We think we can get a good sample of your attacker’s DNA off it.”

  “So, I got him good?”

  Lucinda laughed again. “You sure did, Tammy.”

  “Are you going to get that bastard, Lieutenant?”

  “That’s what I’m working on and that’s why I’m here. I brought some photos for you to look at.”

  “Bring ’em on.”

  “He might not be in this group of photos. If he’s not, that’s okay, too. All right?”

  “Sure. Sure. I want to get the right guy arrested not just any guy arrested.”

  Lucinda pulled over the rolling table and laid the photographic line-up on its surface. “Take your time, Tammy, look closely at each one.”

  “There’s the bastard,” she said pointing at Evan Spencer.

  Lucinda swallowed hard. It’s not possible. “Look at him again, Tammy. Are you certain?”

  “No doubt in my mind,” Tammy said shaking her head. “I’ll admit the suit and tie threw me off for a bit. But that is him.”

  It can’t be Spencer. He was in custody when the attack happened. “What was your attacker wearing Tammy?”

  “Like I told the other officers, Lieutenant, he had on a dark-colored sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. I got the impression that his hair was shorter than it is in this picture here, but I never saw under the hood so I can’t be sure about that.”

  “Anything else you noticed?”

  “Gloves. He wore gloves. Heavy-duty work gloves. The kind you’d wear if you were setting fence posts.”

  A heavy weight pressed down on Lucinda’s gut making the acid in her stomach roil. A perfect match with the triple homicide description. Somehow something is wrong. But what? “Thank you, Tammy. Here’s my card. Call me if anything else comes to mind, okay?” Lucinda turned and walked out of the cubicle.