Punish the Deed (A Lucinda Pierce Mystery)

by Fanning, Diane

“Yeah. Get to the point, Officer.”

  “When I came by here a couple of hours ago, everything was the same as always. But right now, there are lights on and another car in the driveway.”

  “You run the plates?”

  “I thought you’d want me to do that,” she said, her smile apparent in her voice, “so I did. The vehicle is registered to Angela Dromgoole who lives over on Parsons Drive. No priors. Not even minor traffic violations.”

  “Thanks, Officer. Are you there alone?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Call for back-up. But stay away from the house. I’ll be there as quickly as I can and I’ll want some force there in case it’s needed.”

  Lucinda disconnected the call and pressed in the numbers to Jake’s cell.

  “Lovett,” a gravelly voice answered.

  “Up and at ’em, Special Agent. We’ve got work to do.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Duty never sleeps. I’ll be there in ten minutes or less. Be out in front of the hotel.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll explain it all when I pick you up. In about, oh, seven and a half minutes,” Lucinda said.

  “Shit.”

  Lucinda grinned as she hung up the phone.

  At Broderick’s house, Lucinda and Jake peered in windows hoping to get an idea of what to expect before they knocked on the front door. “I think I hear two people talking in there,” Jake said.

  “Are you sure there are two people?”

  “No, not really. It could be a radio or television.”

  “Look over there, does that look like the same guy that’s in the driver’s license photo of Broderick?” Jake said, pointing to the far side of the room.

  Lucinda shifted her angle of vision and got a glimpse of a retreating back. “Couldn’t tell.”

  They slipped to the back of the house to the sliding-glass door taking care to stay out of sight. “There he is again,” Jake whispered.

  “Yes, that is the guy. That’s Broderick. But who is that woman?”

  “Angela Dromgoole?”

  “Yeah, probably. But who is she?” Lucinda asked.

  A short tan dog with big ears rounded the kitchen counter. “What is that?” Jake asked.

  “That’s the dog,” Lucinda said.

  “Are you sure it’s a dog? Ears of a bat and no sign of legs . . .”

  “It has legs. They’re kinda stumpy. It’s a Corgi,” Lucinda whispered.

  “A what?”

  The dog’s head jerked in their direction. His tail curled up, his ears stiffened, a low growl issued from his throat.

  Lucinda and Jake sprinted for the front door as the first bark rang out. They hit the doorbell and tried to compose themselves before it was answered.

  Although it was quite early in the morning, the man who answered the door appeared dressed for the day – yesterday. His clothing was rumpled and wrinkled. His sandy-haired head showed no signs of bed-head but didn’t look like it had seen a comb for quite some time. His eyes were alert and squinted with suspicion.

  Lucinda and Jake flipped open their badges in unison. “Steve Broderick?” Lucinda asked.

  The man’s eyes shifted back and forth between the two investigators.

  “You are Steve Broderick, aren’t you?” Jake asked.

  “Yes. What’s it to you?”

  “May we come in?” Lucinda said as she pushed forward, forcing the issue.

  “Do you know what time it is?” Steve said as she walked across the room with the Corgi matching each of her steps with a fresh bark and a few inches of retreat.

  “Steve, I can’t find your computer,” a woman’s voice sounded from down the hall.

  Ignoring her, Steve turned to Lucinda and asked, “Have you been here before?”

  “Yes, we have. We had a search warrant.”

  “You took my computer?”

  “Yes, sir. There is a complete list of what was removed from your home on your kitchen counter along with a copy of the search warrant.”

  “I didn’t see anything like that.”

  Lucinda walked across to the dining room and over to the bar stools beside the counter between that room and the kitchen. Pointing, she said, “Right there, Mr. Broderick. It was the only clean surface we could find.”

  “Are you saying my house is dirty?”

  “Cluttered, Mr. Broderick. That’s all, cluttered. Looks better than my place, actually,” Jake said. “We do have some questions we need to ask you.”

  “Do I need an attorney?”

  “That’s up to you, Mr. Broderick. If you think you do, we can go down to the station and wait for your lawyer to arrive. It’s your call,” Lucinda said.

  A woman with long dark hair and a rail-thin body strode into the room. “Steve, don’t even say that. Everybody knows only guilty people get attorneys. You’ve done nothing. Nothing at all.” She turned to the officers and said, “Please have a seat. We just got back in town. We were away visiting family.”

  “Really?” Lucinda and Jake said and then grinned at each other in surprise.

  “Why, yes,” the woman continued. “Our relationship is getting serious so we thought it was time.”

  “And you are?” Lucinda asked.

  “Angela Dromgoole. Steve’s fiancée.”

  “So, Broderick,” Jake said, “you just thought it was so urgent to meet this woman’s family that you tore off from work without letting anyone know where you were going.”

  “I called the district offices several times but at first I got a recording asking if I wanted to leave a message. Then, I got a message that the mailbox was full. Here,” he said as he pulled out his cell phone, “you can check the list of calls I made on the log.”

  “But why, Mr. Broderick, did you find it so urgent to leave when you did?” Lucinda asked.

  “Angela wanted me to,” he said as he stepped toward her and put an arm around her shoulders. “And what Angela wants, I try to deliver.”

  Angela giggled. Lucinda and Jake exchanged an eye roll.

  “I imagine we’ll find a whole list of missed phone calls from the school district in your menu, too, Mr. Broderick. Why didn’t you take their calls?”

  “Because I was on vacation.”

  “An unauthorized vacation,” Jake said.

  “Well, yeah, but I didn’t leave any loose ends around when I left.”

  “No loose ends? Really, Mr. Broderick?” Lucinda said. “How about we try to get a truthful answer about the timing of your departure? We know about the Carney homicide in Maine.”

  “See, see!” Steve said to Angela. “I just knew it. I knew I’d be a suspect. I just couldn’t face it again. That’s why I left Maine in the first place.”

  “But, Steve, I told you running away is no way to solve a problem.”

  “Angela, let’s not go into that now.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Broderick. Could I please get an answer?” Lucinda interrupted.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes. I decided to leave town when I heard about Shari’s death. I just couldn’t deal with it again. I was feeling like some sort of bad luck generating machine. I pop up and a Communities in Schools Executive Director dies.”

  “So, where did you go, Mr. Broderick?” Jake asked.

  “We went to Jacksonville, Florida, to visit my parents, and to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to visit his brother,” Angela said.

  “Please, ma’am, let Mr. Broderick answer for himself,” Jake said.

  “I was just trying to be helpful, Officer. Steve is a bit freaked out by all of this and not as quick with answers as he usually is.”

  “Please, Ms. Dromgoole. If you could have a seat at the dining-room table, we’ll let you know if we have any questions for you,” Lucinda insisted.

  Angela’s mouth opened and shut.

  “Please, Angela,” Steve said.

  Angela plopped in a seat with enough noise to make her indignation clear to everyone.
<
br />   Lucinda turned away from her. “Mr. Broderick, did you go anywhere else on this trip?”

  “We stopped in New Orleans for a couple of hours but we didn’t spend the night there or anything.”

  “How about Washington, D.C.? Anywhere near there?” Jake asked.

  “No. We’ve spent a lot of time on the road but our route didn’t take us anywhere near there,” Steve said. “What happened in D.C.? I thought you were here about Shari Fleming’s murder.”

  “Mr. Broderick, if you had been at the school district offices on the day Ms Fleming’s body was found, you would have been questioned along with everyone else. But because you disappeared for a few days, you’ve now become a person of interest in her murder as well as a few other homicides including one in D.C.,” Jake said.

  “Man, I’m sorry. I just panicked. That’s all. I left town just to get away.”

  “Where were you on Wednesday evening, the week before last?” Lucinda asked.

  “Why are you pestering him? He just needed to get away for a while. What’s wrong with that?” Angela interjected.

  “Ms. Dromgoole, you need to keep quiet. Or else we’ll have to take everyone down to the station,” Lucinda threatened, then turned back to Steve. “Mr. Broderick, please answer my question.”

  “I went to prayer meeting at church and then I went home,” Steve said.

  Angela jumped to her feet. “I went with him. I am his alibi.”

  Steve turned a puzzled look to his girlfriend. “Angela, you can’t lie to the police.”

  Angela thrust her chin out. “I’m not lying, Steve. You don’t need to protect my reputation.” She walked up to Lucinda and said, “I went to church with Steve that night and then came home with him and committed fornication. Now that sure is a sin but I don’t think it’s a crime. So why don’t you just take your ugly face and your uglier accusations and get out of here.”

  Lucinda looked up at the ceiling and let out a big sigh. She looked at Jake and, after exchanging shrugs, they each pulled out a set of handcuffs. While Angela ranted about the outrage, Steve cooperated without saying a word and the little dog bounced around the room, barking and nipping at heels. Jake and Lucinda slapped the restraints on the couple’s wrists and escorted them both out to the car.

  Thirty-Six

  Jake placed Steve Broderick into one interrogation room and Lucinda took Angela to another. While the couple sat on uncomfortable chairs, in separate rooms, looking at bare walls, Lucinda and Jake went down to the café to grab a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. They took their time eating breakfast biscuits and sipping on two cups of coffee each. Then they sauntered back upstairs to deal with Steve and Angela. By mutual agreement, Lucinda took Angela and Jake went into the room with Steve.

  Jake started by asking about the couple’s road trip. Steve went through more detail about meeting each other’s family members than Jake ever wanted to hear but he let Steve ramble hoping at some point he would say something that actually mattered.

  In the middle of an explanation about the interaction between Angela and Cousin Bertie, Steve took a sharp intake of air and said, “I’ve got it. I’ve got proof.” He twisted his arm around to his back pants pocket. Then he jerked forward, held up both his hands and, “Sorry. Sorry. No false moves, right? I’m not used to this stuff. Do you want to remove my wallet from my rear pocket?”

  Jake shook his head. He had a juvenile urge to pull his gun out of his holster and see if the guy started begging for his life. Instead, he suppressed that baser impulse, squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and said, “No, no, Mr. Broderick. You go right ahead and remove your wallet and show me what you’ve got.”

  Steve moved with slow deliberation providing play-by-play commentary. “I’m turning at the waist. I’m reaching my arm to my back pocket. I’ve got my fingers on my wallet. I’m sliding it out. I’m bringing it to the front of my body and setting it on the table. There!” He beamed at Jake.

  In the most patient voice he could muster, Jake said, “What’s in the wallet, Mr. Broderick?”

  “Oh, yes, right.” Steve carefully folded down one side of the tri-fold and then the other. “I’m going to remove the contents now,” he said.

  “Fine, Mr. Broderick.”

  Steve spread apart the section that holds paper money, pulled out a modest wad of folded bills and set them on the table. Then he reached into the corner and jerked out a small bundle of white receipts folded together with symmetrical, crisp corners.

  “Did you iron those?” Jake asked.

  “Oh, of course not. I was on the road, Agent Lovett. But when I got each one, I laid it on a flat surface and smoothed it flat before putting it with the others.”

  Observing the seriousness of the response, Jake nearly choked as he struggled to suppress laughter. He hunched over with a hand over his mouth until he regained control. Steve pushed the neat pile of receipts across the table. Jake glanced at each one for the location and date, more out of respect for the offering than because he felt a need to verify Steve’s statement. “Mr. Broderick, I accept your story of your journey to Florida and Louisiana. I believe you are telling me the truth. Although it appears pretty impossible for you to have made a side trip to Washington, D.C. during this time frame, it still doesn’t account for your whereabouts on the night that Shari Fleming was killed. And before you say it, I am sure lots of folks saw you at church that Wednesday night but what about after church? Was Miss Dromgoole with you as she said?”

  Steve threw a hand over his mouth, closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. He took a deep breath, dropped his hand and looked at Jake. “It pains me to have to say this, Agent Lovett, but Angela told a fib. She was trying to protect me but I know she should not have done that. It was wrong. And I am sorry. I was at home alone. No one but my dog saw me that night after the services. Angela is a good, God-fearing woman. I have not had . . . uh . . . uh . . . carnal knowledge of her,” he said, his face burning bright red.

  Jake looked down at the table and took a couple of breaths to prevent himself from losing it. Then he asked, “Did you stop by the school district building before you went home?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Did you stop anywhere?”

  “No, sir. I went straight home.”

  “Did you go out that evening at all?”

  “No. Scout’s honor,” he said, raising his fingers in the pledge sign.

  “Okay,” Jake said as he pushed away from the table, “you wait right here for a while. I’ll be back.”

  “Please don’t arrest Angela.”

  “Relax, Mr. Broderick, I doubt we’ll find a reason to do that.”

  In the other interrogation room, Lucinda was not at all amused. Angela kept insisting she was with Steve all night long. After trying to coax the truth out of Angela, Lucinda was exasperated. “Ms. Dromgoole, please stop lying about Mr. Broderick. You are not helping the situation.”

  “I am not lying. We spent all night long in hot, steamy sex. Do you want the details?”

  “Oh, please, no. I do not want to hear about your sexual fantasies. I just want you to admit to where you were that night.”

  “I told you. I spent the night in Steve’s bed with his arms around me. If he’d left even for a moment, I would have known. I would have felt the absence of his warm, passionate body the second he pulled away – before he even set his feet on the floor.”

  Lucinda threw back her head and contemplated the ceiling. When she looked back at Angela, she said, “Don’t you want to go home? If you tell me the truth, I’ll let you go home.”

  “Oh, right. I know that cop trick. I’ve seen it on TV. You can’t fool me. And you can’t prove I wasn’t with Steve.”

  “I probably can, Ms. Dromgoole. So why don’t you save us both some time?”

  “What did you run your face into anyway? It’s a mess.”

  “This is not about me, Ms. Dromgoole.”

  “Oh yes it
is. You’re jealous. You’re jealous that I look good enough to catch a man and you don’t. You’re jealous that I can spend the night with a man and no one wants you. I know your type.”

  Lucinda clenched her teeth, rose from her seat and walked to the door.

  “Where are you going? You can’t leave me in here,” Angela protested.

  Lucinda left without comment. She went into the observation room just in time to see Jake stand and exchange a few last words with Steve. She met him in the hall.

  “I sure can see why you and Trivolli eliminated him as a suspect,” Jake said. “He’s a boring, anal weenie. You should see how he folds his receipts.”

  “The aged sex fiend in the other room is sticking with her story,” Lucinda said.

  “Broderick is not sticking with it. He apologized for her behavior. And get this: he swears he has not had “carnal knowledge” of her.”

  “Carnal knowledge?”

  “His words, not mine. I swear,” Jake said with a laugh. “I think we ought to find somebody to give them a ride back to Broderick’s place.”

  “It really irks me to let her go home while she’s still lying to me.”

  “Okay, let’s both go in and see if it’ll help if I confront her with Broderick’s words.”

  When they entered, Jake slid into the seat across from Angela and Lucinda slouched against the wall.

  “That woman,” Angela said, pointing at Lucinda, “called me a liar.”

  Jake turned to Lucinda, who shook her head. Then he looked at Angela and said, “Really?”

  “Yes, sir, Agent Lovett.”

  “She actually used those words?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said with a nod.

  “I’ll have to review the tape.”

  Angela blanched, followed by the appearance of a bright red circle on each cheek. “Tape?”

  “Yeah, you knew it was all being recorded, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I forgot. Maybe she didn’t use those exact words but she implied them. She accused me of lying.”

  “Did you tell her you were with Steve Broderick the night of Shari Fleming’s death?”

  “I certainly did,” Angela said, straightening her posture and jutting out her chin, “because I was.”