False Front (Lucinda Pierce)

by Diane Fanning

  ‘That is a major feat.’

  ‘Not for you, Jake.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  ‘You should,’ she said. ‘Now, I really need to get some rest. Tomorrow promises to be a long day.’

  ‘Sorry – go get some sleep. I don’t want to call you at a bad moment so give me a call and I’ll update you on what I learned up in Albemarle County.’

  ‘Will do. Night, Jake,’ she said and hit the end button. She sighed, scooped up Chester and scratched him under the chin. ‘Am I ready for a serious relationship, Chester? Or is it getting to be too much too soon? My first husband was a feeb; do I really want to run that risk again? Do I want to make myself vulnerable to any man again? Hmm, Chester?’ Chester blurted out a meow. ‘Yes, you’re right. I am safer when it’s just me and you.’

  SEVENTEEN

  Lucinda walked into Frank’s office just after 8 a.m. The room was all glass surfaces and chrome. Even the panoramic view outside the wall of windows didn’t add warmth to the sterile environment. She wouldn’t give up her ratty, cramped office for this cold space for any price. ‘I’m surprised to see you at work today, Mr Eagleton,’ she said.

  ‘And where else would I be, Lieutenant? I don’t have a home right now, remember?’

  ‘We released your wife’s body to the funeral director early this morning. I thought you’d be out and about making arrangements for her service.’

  ‘I wasn’t in the mood.’

  ‘Oh, not in the mood? Your wife didn’t time the murder for your convenience? I am shocked.’

  ‘Cut the crap, Lieutenant.’

  ‘Since you didn’t show up for our meeting yesterday, I thought you might be waiting for me at the justice center this morning. When you weren’t, I came here.’

  ‘I told you the office was not a good place for us to talk.’

  ‘I recall that, Mr Eagleton but, if you remember, I gave you a choice and you didn’t show up.’

  ‘I had my secretary call. Things got complicated yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘Well, I’m here now and I have questions.’

  ‘Can’t it wait until this afternoon? I need to prepare for lunch with a major client at noon.’

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  ‘It’s a federal agency, Ms Pierce.’

  Lucinda took that form of address from this man as a slap in the face. She was certain it was meant to diminish her and her authority. She sat down in the chair across from Frank’s desk and looked him in the eyes. ‘Lieutenant Pierce, Mr Eagleton. Now are you going to answer my questions or do I need to take you with me down to the justice center? Before you answer, if I did that, I would be completely within procedure if I slapped on handcuffs and perp-walked you out the door, down the elevator and out into the street.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘You don’t want to take that gamble with me, Mr Eagleton. I am one stubborn bitch and you’d better get used to that as long as the killer of your wife is still at large.’

  ‘Is this your way of telling me you have balls?’

  ‘Can we stop this little skirmish in the gender war and talk about your alleged love for your wife?’

  ‘There was nothing alleged about it.’

  ‘Really? And was it that love that led you to commit adultery?’

  ‘My love for Candace had nothing to do with my fling with my secretary.’

  ‘Miss Flowers seemed to think there were wedding bells in her future.’

  ‘If she did, then she was a fool. I never gave her any indication of any permanence in our relationship. I rewarded her in cash and expensive gifts. She was more than adequately compensated for every encounter. If you ask me, that is the working definition of whore.’

  ‘You never told her you loved her?’

  ‘I may have in a moment of passion but it was meaningless. In fact, I do recall one occasion when I told her “at this moment, I love you more than anything.” The operative phrase being “at this moment.” The moment passed – quickly.’

  ‘You don’t think you were taking advantage of a young, naïve girl’s heart?’

  ‘Oh, nothing naïve about that gold-digger. She was not in love with me. She was in love with the money and power I represented. She’s shallow and insipid. And I suspect that she sent the anonymous note to Candace that ruined my marriage.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Lucinda said, leaning forward in her seat. ‘It was the note, not your cheating, that destroyed your marriage.’

  ‘Stop playing word games with me, Lieutenant. I loved my wife. I had no intention of leaving her. I wanted to grow old with my wife. And someone has stolen that possibility away from me and instead of looking for that killer, you are badgering me.’

  ‘You loved your wife even though she was moody, overly dramatic and difficult to live with.’

  ‘I never said that. Never.’

  ‘No. Your son Mark said that.’

  Frank sighed. ‘I fear that boy will never grow up. He’s so much like his mother and he rebels against it constantly. He’s said some asinine things in his life, but that’s probably the worst. I’m sure he only said that in a misguided attempt to protect me.’

  ‘Actually, it had the opposite effect.’

  ‘Figures. You have any children, Lieutenant?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t. They’re lots of fun when they’re little but they grow up too fast. Once they hit twelve, you have years of heartache and worry. You think once they get past their teens, it’s a major accomplishment. But then, they always disappoint you again.’

  ‘You sound awfully bitter, Mr Eagleton.’

  ‘Listen, I love my kids. But they can be really aggravating. My daughter always thinks the worst of me; my son has nothing good to say about his mother. Where are the rewards of parenthood in that?’

  ‘You have a point there, Mr Eagleton. But perhaps your attitude towards child-rearing is not a universal truth. Maybe it just means you aren’t parent material.’

  Eagleton snorted. ‘I told that to Candace a long time ago but she told me I was crazy. And she wanted children so much . . .’

  ‘And you just went along?’

  Frank nodded.

  ‘Was that your usual reaction to her plans – even if you didn’t think they were right?’

  ‘No. I wouldn’t say that.’

  ‘Did you help her plan her extortion attempt?’

  ‘Extortion attempt? You mean blackmail?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Candace wouldn’t blackmail anybody.’

  ‘We think she may have done just that. Who would she be able to blackmail?’

  ‘No one. She didn’t know anyone’s deep, dark secrets – that I know of.’

  ‘If not that, perhaps she was involved in the commission of a crime or in an unethical act.’

  ‘Candace? Please! She was always hounding me if she thought I stepped a little too close to the ethics line. When she didn’t approve of a business deal I made, she told me so – particularly if she thought I was taking advantage of someone in an untenable situation. She was merciless in her judgment – she didn’t let me slide on anything.’

  ‘Interesting. So she could have been blackmailing you?’

  ‘OK,’ Frank said, throwing his hands in the air and rising to his feet. ‘That’s one stupid comment over my quota for the day. Enough. I have work to do. Get back to me when you have something sensible to say.’

  Lucinda sat for a moment, looking up at his scowling face, the hands on his hips, the impatient way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She made deliberate movements as she left the chair and took two steps toward the door. She turned and looked back at him. ‘You are not exhibiting the attitude I would expect from a grieving husband. If you played any role in the death of Candace Eagleton, I will find out. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But I will not rest until I know every detail of your involvement.’

  ‘Next time you want to talk to m
e, Lieutenant, I suggest you contact my attorney. April can provide you with his details.’

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘I wanted you to know that I am a little closer to locating Bonnie Upchurch,’ he said.

  ‘Where are you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m in Texas – Dallas, to be exact.’

  ‘Did you find her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why are you calling? We need to keep our contact to a minimum.’

  ‘But this is important. I was certain you’d want to know.’

  ‘What’s so important?’

  ‘In the Dallas County Courthouse, I found a record of a woman by the name of Bonnie Louise Upchurch who legally changed her name to Olivia Louise Cartwright.’

  ‘When did that happen?’

  ‘Nineteen years ago. No wonder her trail was cold.’

  ‘Is she still there?’

  ‘No. The apartment building she lived in at that time is no longer standing.’

  ‘Then it’s a dead end.’

  ‘No. Not at all. I’ve got leads sprinkled throughout the Southwest. I’m driving west to follow up on them as soon as I get off of this call.’

  ‘When you find her?’

  ‘I will try to find out what she knows. It’s possible that she will not have a suspicious memory. If not, there’s no reason to take action.’

  ‘How will you know she’s not lying?’

  ‘You don’t need to know my methods – in fact, it’s better if you don’t. If you recall, Candace confirmed everything before I was finished with her. She was honest even when she knew she was going to die.’

  ‘How many times have I told you to be careful with your choice of words?’

  ‘Get off your high horse. This is your operation. I am just your humble servant. Don’t get all high and mighty with me. I know your secrets. And I know what to do if trouble gets too close. No matter what happens, I will not go down alone. That is my promise and my threat. Get used to it.’ He slammed down the receiver in the phone booth and got back in his car. He headed west on Route 20 planning to rendezvous with Interstate 10 just north of Alpine.

  NINETEEN

  Jake slid into the spacious interior of his 1966 Impala Super Sport, pleased that he had an opportunity to make the two-hour drive that took him through the rolling hills of the Albemarle County countryside. The silvery-blue convertible was more than just a car – it was his legacy from his dad. He never turned the key in the ignition without a flash of memories about his father galloping through his head with a power equal to the 325 horses under the hood of his beautiful, gas-guzzling glide ride.

  He avoided the major interstate and took the back roads, cutting over to Route 29 when he reached Lynchburg. He had a favorite section of that highway between Lynchburg and Charlottesville – a place where the trees formed a crowded canopy wrapping the road in green light as the hills created an undulating ribbon of asphalt.

  He followed Lucinda’s directions as he turned off the highway onto a secondary road. He drove past alternating patches of verdant woodland, rocky fields where cattle grazed and green patches of row after row of field corn or soybeans. One family farm after another – many 200 acres or more – created a bucolic atmosphere that made Jake feel drowsy.

  The sight of the name ‘Pierce’ on the side of a large silver mailbox waving its red flag brought him back to alertness. He turned in, crossed the cattle guard and headed up the lightly graveled dirt driveway. On his left, in the front of the house, rough, whitewashed horizontal boards defined a paddock where the horses pranced in the sun.

  On the other side of the drive stood a faded red barn and a field filled with grazing polled Herefords. Beyond them both, nestled in the hillside stood a traditional, two-story white farmhouse surrounded by a white picket fence. Around the outside perimeter of the fence, a host of fowl – Plymouth Rocks, Rhode Island Reds, guinea hens and generic white chickens – scratched the dirt looking for bugs.

  A tractor sat idling by the bare patch of dirt in front of the barn door. Jake pulled up next to it and parked. A rangy man with tousled hair walked out of the barn, wiping his hands on the rump of his denim overalls. ‘That’s some car,’ he said. ‘What a beauty!’ He ran a hand across one fender, a look of love or lust in his eyes. ‘Where are my manners?’ he said as he wiped his right hand on the denim once again and stretched it out toward Jake. ‘Ricky Pierce. And you’re Lucinda’s FBI friend?’

  Jake shook Ricky’s hand. ‘Jake. Jake Lovett. And I’m here as your sister’s friend. This is not an official FBI investigation. I’m technically off-duty.’

  ‘Understood. Glad you could make it. Seems like my sister works too hard sometimes but she’s never been one to do things halfway. Follow me up to the house. We’ll sit down with some coffee and talk this thing over.’ Ricky swung in the tractor seat and made a broad turn back out to the drive.

  Inside, Jake sat down at the plain wooden table in a farm kitchen that looked like an old set from The Waltons. There were new, shiny stainless steel appliances but there was also a green enamel wood cook stove with a stainless steel pipe rising up from behind it and venting out of the wall.

  The cabinets were wood painted white – the ones on top had glass-paned doors, the lower set was covered with floral chintz curtains. The countertops were a mottled brown marble. The upgrades to the kitchen made it appear streamlined and efficient. The remaining traditional farmhouse features gave it a cozy, homey feel. Jake wondered what it looked like when Lucinda lived here as a teenager.

  When both were seated with a steaming mug of coffee, Ricky said, ‘I imagine Lucinda’s filled you in on the problem here?’

  ‘Yes. As I understand it, law enforcement and the medical examiner have ruled your nephew’s death as a suicide but your brother-in-law and your wife are convinced he was murdered by someone who was bullying him at school.’

  ‘To tell you the truth, I think they’re grasping at straws. My sister-in-law Martha wants to bury her boy but Seth won’t let anyone embalm Dylan because he’s certain his son’s body has evidence of foul play. I was hoping if Lucinda looked at the evidence and agreed with law enforcement that would help Seth accept the reality of his son’s suicide.’

  ‘You know, if I do reach the same conclusion, it still might not help. Not only am I not Lucinda, but Seth could be too entrenched in his denial to accept logic or reason.’

  ‘The authorities are giving him a little time to come around but the sheriff told me they’ll seek a court order if he doesn’t accept the reality of a suicide soon.’

  ‘I guess my first stop is at the sheriff’s office and then I’ll call on the doctor who performed the autopsy. It might go smoother if you were with me. Can you get away?’

  ‘Yep, sure can. Made sure I took care of everything that had to be done before you got here. You gonna talk to Todd Childress, the kid that was pushing around Dylan?’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s probably better if you weren’t along for that.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ Ricky said, and upended the contents of the mug into his mouth as he pushed away from the table.

  ‘We’ll take my car if that’s all right,’ Jake said.

  ‘More than all right – looking forward to the ride.’

  Initially, the sheriff balked and peered at them through suspicious, slitted eyes. He was not the stereotypical sheriff with a pot belly and swaying jowls. He carried his six-foot-three height on a thin frame. His chin jutted out firm and solid without a trace of middle-aged slackness. The two men assured him that Jake was not on the scene in any official capacity. Eventually, a wary but more relaxed sheriff opened up about Dylan’s death.

  ‘I do want a resolution here. If Seth doesn’t let go of this, the county will be forced to bury him with the unclaimed bodies. I don’t want to do that to the family. It just doesn’t seem right. But I can’t make Seth budge.’

  ‘What makes you certain it’s a suicide?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Let’s start
with the gun. It’s a pearl-handled ladies’ pistol – the same one Martha’s father gave her for her sixteenth birthday.’

  Jake looked at both their faces. ‘He gave his daughter a pistol for her sweet sixteenth?’

  The sheriff chuckled. ‘Oh yeah, ol’ hanging Fred Clooney. He was a judge in criminal court. No defense attorney ever wanted to be in front of his bench. He was as tough as beef jerky left out in the sun. Why, he even wore a gunslinger’s holster with a pair of six-shooters under his robe. Don’t make ’em like that anymore.’

  ‘What about fingerprints on the weapon?’

  ‘Nobody’d wiped off that gun like they were trying to hide anything. Most the fingerprints belonged to Dylan. The other couple of prints we found matched Seth and Martha. It seems to me like they’re the only folks that coulda killed the boy if he didn’t kill himself.’

  ‘What about the truck he died in? What did you find there?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Nothing you wouldn’t expect. It was messy. Blood spatter, pools of blood. But it was only one person’s blood and it all belonged to Dylan. No signs of a struggle. Lots of full and partial fingerprints on the dash and the door panels – some identifiable, some not. And before you ask, we did check that boy Todd’s prints – not one matched.’

  ‘Did he have an arrest record?’

  ‘Nah. His parents gave us permission to print him.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep. His father’s one of my deputies – not like he could say no.’

  ‘I’d like to talk to the boy.’

  The sheriff cocked his head sideways. ‘I don’t know. I told Deputy Childress that there wouldn’t be any problems.’

  ‘Sheriff, the boy knew Dylan. He can give me some perspective on the boy – help me deal with the family.’

  ‘Let me think on it.’

  Jake nodded. ‘Did you do any interviews after his death?’

  ‘Quite a few. Talked to a lot of kids at the school – but it didn’t seem like he had any real friends. He was a loner. Lately, they said, he’d withdrawn even more. One kid told me that Dylan fretted a lot about the end of the world. He seemed to think the death of Osama bin Laden would herald the commencement of the final jihad that would annihilate the world. Pretty dark musings for a kid.’