Lucinda clenched her jaw. ‘And why was she pissed off, sir?’
Eagleton sighed. ‘Someone told her I was having an affair with my secretary.’
‘Were you?’
‘Was I what?’
‘Don’t be obtuse, Mr Eagleton. Were you having an affair?’
He blew air out of loose lips, making them vibrate against each other. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It didn’t mean anything. It was just recreational. Stress relief. It didn’t mean I didn’t still love my wife.’
‘Did you, Mr Eagleton? Did you still love your wife?’
‘Of course I did. She’s the mother of my children. She helped me build my business. She helped make me a success.’
‘That sounds like gratitude, not love.’
‘You’re not married, are you, Lieutenant?’
‘Please answer the question.’
Eagleton leaned forward with his elbows on the table. ‘Gratitude is one of the building blocks of lasting love, Lieutenant.’
‘Nice philosophy, Mr Eagleton,’ she said as her lips involuntarily formed a sneer. ‘And you demonstrate your gratitude to your wife by climbing into bed with someone else?’
‘That had nothing to do with my wife.’
‘Is that how your lover saw it?’
‘Lieutenant, I did not lie to that girl. I told her from the start that I would never leave my wife. I told her I was just looking for good times and relaxation.’
‘Really? And how did she react to that?’
‘She stood up on the bed, stark naked, her legs spread, straddling my waist and said, ‘Good. Just consider me your new therapist.’
Lucinda looked at the sparkle in Eagleton’s eyes and recoiled from it. His wife’s death didn’t seem to sully the pleasure of his illicit memories one little bit. ‘Back to the last time you saw your wife: what did she say? Was she going to be home all day?’
‘She said, “Maybe.” She said, “A client is meeting me here at the house at nine. If it goes well we may go to lunch after our meeting.”’
‘Did she tell you who that client was? For that matter, what did your wife do for her clients? What kind of service did she provide?’
‘No. I have no idea. She told me nothing. She used to do public relations work but that was ages ago. So I asked her, “Client? What kind of client? You don’t have a job.”’
‘And her answer?’ Lucinda asked.
‘All she said was, “See Frank, you know nothing about me. You hardly know I am alive.” I said, “You never told me you had a job.” And she said, “You never asked. Now will you please leave so I can get dressed?” And that pissed me off.’
‘Why?’
‘We’ve been married all these years,’ he said, his voice rising. ‘I’ve seen her starkers more times than I’ve had a beer. And I have to leave for her to get dressed?’
‘How much did it piss you off, Mr Eagleton?’
‘Enough to make me stalk out without saying “goodbye.”’
‘Is that what you did, Mr Eagleton?’
‘That’s what I said, isn’t it?’
‘No. It isn’t, sir. You said that it made you angry enough to stalk out of the room, not that you did stalk out of the room.’
Eagleton popped to his feet. ‘Now you are playing word games?’
‘I’m not playing any games. I do not think the death of your wife is a game, do you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Please sit down, Mr Eagleton. And try to control your temper.’
He glared at her and lowered down into the chair.
‘Thank you,’ Lucinda said. ‘Now, did it piss you off enough to make you attack your wife?’
‘What? I’ve never raised a hand to that woman.’
‘Did you fake her suicide to cover up your crime?’
Eagleton shot to his feet again. Veins pounded in his forehead and neck. His face flushed red. ‘What’s wrong with you? I’m the one who told you it was not a suicide. Remember?’
‘Clever ruse, don’t you think?’
Eagleton stepped up to the side of the table, his hands clenched by his sides. ‘How dare you?’
‘Mr Eagleton, don’t make me restrain you. Get back on your side of the table and sit down.’
He sucked a deep breath in through his nose, making his chest heave. A look of distaste curled his lips. ‘You sicken me,’ he said as he took a step back. ‘I’ve told you I loved my wife,’ he said as he slid back into his seat.
‘You also told me you were having a cheap affair with one of your employees. I can’t quite fit those two concepts into one bucket.’
‘I never said “cheap.”’
‘So you were in love with this girl?’
‘No. It was sex – just sex.’
‘You know we will have to speak with her?’
Eagleton rolled his eyes. ‘Yes. Not the happiest realization I’ve had today.’
‘What was that?’
‘What was what?’ Eagleton asked.
‘Your happiest realization this morning. What was that? Learning you’re now a widower?’
‘Goddammit!’ he said, slapping his hand on the table. ‘I’m talking to you for one reason and one reason only. My wife did not commit suicide. She wouldn’t. That means someone killed her. I want that bastard locked up.’
‘Did your wife have any enemies?’
‘Only perceived ones.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Sometimes she acted like I was the enemy but that was nothing new. From time to time, she’d get all paranoid that I was plotting to leave her. She’d get the children to question me. But I knew she couldn’t help herself. She had a pathological poor sense of self-worth. Then, when she got that note telling her about the girl a year and a half ago, she focused her paranoia on her. She saw the girl as her enemy. But she wasn’t. She had no plans to take her place. She was just – just – just . . .’
‘Just what, Mr Eagleton?’
‘Just there.’
‘And what is this young woman’s name?’
‘April,’ Eagleton said.
‘April what?’
‘April Flowers.’
‘What’s her real name, Mr Eagleton?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Really?’
‘Call personnel. They’ll tell you. Her parents were idiots. That is not my fault.’
‘Isn’t that supposed to be “April Showers?”’
‘As I said: her parents are idiots. Now what are you doing to find whoever killed my wife?’
‘We’re doing a lot, Mr Eagleton. This is just part of it. We’ve obtained a search warrant and are going through your home looking for any little bit of forensic evidence. We’ve also gotten search warrants for all the home computers. But most importantly, Mr Eagleton, the autopsy being performed on your wife’s body should tell us if this is a homicide or a suicide. I am most interested in what was under your wife’s fingernails. If you did attack your wife, there is a strong possibility we will find your DNA there. We will know then that you did, in fact, attack your wife.’
Eagleton propped his elbows on the table and rested his forehead in his palms as he sighed. Raising his head, he said, ‘What can I do to get you to stop wasting time on me and go find her killer?’
‘For starters, you can give me an address for April Flowers.’
‘I don’t know her mailing address but she lives in Commonwealth Towers, Apartment 712. You don’t seriously think that little twit had anything to do with my wife’s murder, do you?’
‘Mr Eagleton, do you know what the two most likely scenarios are in this situation?’
‘No, Lieutenant.’
‘The first most common result is that the autopsy report will confirm a suicide—’
‘But, I told you . . .’
Lucinda raised her hands. ‘I know, Mr Eagleton. But something else is very common – probably the vast majority of family members of suicides have at least
a short period of time when they deny the possibility. You would not be the first.’
‘OK. OK. What is the other scenario?’
‘That would be you, Mr Eagleton.’
‘Back to that again.’
‘Yes, sir. When a person is murdered in their own home, the most frequent perpetrator is the spouse or significant other.’
‘So there’s nothing I can do?’
‘Yes, there is. You can continue to be cooperative. You can call me if you think of anything that might be significant. And you can wait with some degree of patience until we learn how your wife died.’
‘Meanwhile, whoever killed her just sits out there and gloats.’
‘I have no leads to a possible suspect other than you, at this point, Mr Eagleton, and you have not been able to offer any possibilities except perhaps for your love interest . . .’
‘I do not love that girl.’
‘You said. We will see if her view of the relationship matches yours. I’ll be talking to her – so you see, at this point, you are not the only suspect. Hopefully, the forensic analysis will lead us to others if neither of you are guilty.’
‘How about if I take a lie detector test?’
‘That might be appropriate later on. But not now – not while we still don’t know if we have a homicide or not.’
‘Like I said: nothing I can do until you’re done screwing around.’
‘You can call it what you want, but what we are trying to do is to determine what happened to your wife, Mr Eagleton. I would think that’s what you would want.’
Eagleton rose to his feet. ‘I suppose this means I am not under arrest?’
‘No, sir, you are not.’
‘Good. While you’re spinning your wheels, I’m going to get my own investigation going.’
‘I must warn you not to obstruct our investigation, Mr Eagleton. You’d be best served leaving those matters to us. And please do not inform Miss Flowers that I intend to visit.’
Eagleton walked to the door and turned to face her. ‘You ever hear the expression “you get what you pay for?”’
‘Certainly,’ Lucinda said with a nod.
‘I look at you and what do I see – a one-eyed, scarred woman with a chip on her shoulder paid a government employee salary. No offense, but I am able to hire a private investigator with at least as much experience as you, who earns in a month what you make in a year – and he has both eyes. Who do you think I’ll trust?’
‘Whomever you’ve bought and paid for, Mr Eagleton.’
He jerked open the door, spun around and said, ‘Damn you, Lieutenant,’ before he walked out of the room.
Self-consciously, Lucinda brought one hand to her prosthetic eye and ran her fingers down the craters of scar tissue on that side of her face. ‘Damn me, indeed,’ she said to the empty room.
FIVE
Lucinda’s cell vibrated in her pocket. She picked it up and said, ‘What’ve you got, Doc Sam?’
‘C’mon down here and I’ll show you,’ he said and disconnected the call.
Lucinda walked down two flights of stairs and into the morgue.
‘She definitely died from hanging,’ he said as she entered the room.
‘Suicide?’
‘Nah, look at this . . .’ He pointed to Candace’s neck.
‘What am I seeing, Doc?’ Lucinda asked.
‘Abrasions on the skin caused by the rope. Instead of a simple line that pulls up behind the ears, there are multiple fainter lines around the deep indentation that is the apparent one caused by the drop of the body. Almost as if she made a few false attempts before she succeeded. And I don’t think that’s possible.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Lucinda said.
‘If I had to guess, I’d say that someone tortured her before they killed her.’
‘Torture?’
‘Think of it like you would manual strangulation. Remember that guy up in Arlington? He’d choke the women until they passed out. When they revived, he’d do it again. Over and over.’
‘Yes, I read about him.’
‘It looks like someone jerked her up by her neck several times before sending her over that railing to finish it. But then again, it could just be an odd suicide. Not really sure yet.’
Lucinda sighed. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to make a determination?’
‘Don’t know. Maybe when Audrey the lab tyrant gets me an analysis of what was under her fingernails. Maybe when I get the toxicology report. Maybe never.’
‘What about the time of death?’
‘I can give you a range but it overlaps both the time the husband said he was at home and most of the time he said that he was absent from the home.’
Lucinda turned on her heels and walked out without a word. She was churning with frustration. If there was an answer, he would find it. Wouldn’t he? And if he didn’t, where did that leave them? A possible killer who could never be prosecuted? A suicide her husband would not understand or accept? Or was there even a worse possibility that she could not yet begin to imagine?
Lucinda walked under the unnatural glow of mercury lights shining down on the sidewalk. She pulled open a tall glass door and strode up to the desk in the lobby of the high-rise apartment building. She flipped out her badge and said, ‘I am here to speak to April Flowers.’
A bone-thin, male receptionist with pitch-black hair and cold blue eyes gave her an appraising look. He reached forward to a panel of buttons.
‘I’d rather you didn’t do that. Why don’t you just give me access to her floor?’
The young man’s mouth formed an exaggerated O. ‘My, my,’ he said. ‘Sounds serious.’
Lucinda flashed a grim smile and waited.
He fidgeted in silence for a moment and then said, ‘OK. I wouldn’t want to interfere with police business.’ He started around the counter and stopped. ‘Maybe I should call the manager first?’
Lucinda folded her arms across her chest. ‘You are incapable of making a simple decision on your own? How often do you call the manager? Every evening? Do you ever worry about being too much of a nuisance? Has the manager ever expressed displeasure over your inability to think for yourself?’
He flushed red. ‘That was totally uncalled for, Officer. I was just thinking aloud.’
‘Lieutenant,’ Lucinda corrected.
‘Whatever! Follow me,’ he said as he swung around the counter and headed for the elevator. When the doors opened, he scanned the identity card on the lanyard around his neck and hit the button for the tenth floor.
Lucinda stepped inside the lift and asked, ‘Apartment number?’
‘Ten-ten.’
As the doors started to close he stuck his face close to the diminishing gap. ‘If she’s not home, you are not authorized to go inside her unit.’
Reaching the hallway, Lucinda looked up and down its length at the rough concrete walls, shiny concrete floor, industrial hardware – typical new construction for the current hip residential spot in downtown. She turned right and walked half the length in that direction before arriving at the door marked ‘1010.’
She listened for a moment but could hear no sound from the apartment. She pressed the door buzzer and thought she heard the whispery sound of slippers slipping across the concrete floor inside. Metal slid softly and an eye appeared in the peephole. Lucinda held up her badge.
The door opened a crack. ‘Yes, may I help you?’
‘April Flowers?’
‘Yes?’
Lucinda held her badge toward the crack in the door as she tried to get a good look at the woman on the other side. She couldn’t see much but a bowed head with long, shiny blonde hair hanging down straight as a plumb line, obscuring her features. ‘Lieutenant Pierce. Homicide. I need to talk to you about a friend of yours.’
‘I have a dead friend?’
‘I think not. Please may I come in?’ Lucinda asked.
April shut the door, disconnected the chain and reopened the do
or, inviting Lucinda inside. She was shorter than Lucinda but average in stature for a woman. Her thinness, though, made her appear tiny – small enough to be blown away by a baby’s breath.
She led Lucinda past the kitchen and into the living room. The end wall was all glass with a view over the downtown area including the lush Robert E. Lee Gardens in Stonewall Jackson Park. Ironically, the street renamed in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr bordered one side of the open green space. Only in Virginia, Lucinda thought.
As they sat down across from one another, Lucinda asked, ‘Do you know Frank Eagleton?’
‘Yes, he’s my boss.’
‘Is that all? Just your boss?’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, tilting her head to the side and widening her dark brown eyes.
‘Are you or have you ever been romantically involved with Mr Eagleton?’
‘Romantically? No. He’s old enough to be my father.’
‘OK. Are you sexually involved with Mr Eagleton?’
‘Involved? What do you mean, involved?’ April asked.
Lucinda leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. ‘Have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse with Mr Eagleton or performed any other act that could be construed to be sexual in nature?’
‘Me? Mr Eagleton?’
‘Miss Flowers, please stop playing coy.’
April straightened her posture and folded her hands in a demure bundle on her lap. ‘Whatever do you mean, ma’am?’
‘I mean, miss, that Mr Eagleton already admitted to screwing around with you. Your avoidance of the question is annoying.’
‘Mr Eagleton . . .’ April pursed her lips and ran her tongue across them. ‘I can’t imagine what would have made Mr Eagleton say that.’
‘Do you know Candace Eagleton?’
‘Of course. She’s come into the office on several occasions. I haven’t seen her recently, though.’
‘Really? Are you sure you didn’t pay her a visit this morning?’
‘Why would I do that? Did something happen to Mrs Eagleton?’
‘Please answer the question, Miss Flowers. Did you go to the Eagleton home this morning?’
‘I was at work this morning,’ April said.
‘Have you ever been in the Eagleton home? Think before you answer, Miss Flowers. If we find your fingerprints in that house after you’ve denied being there, you will regret it.’
False Front (Lucinda Pierce) Page 3