False Front (Lucinda Pierce)

by Diane Fanning

  Ruby was six years old now but when she was stressed she still reverted to her thumb. When Charley heard the sucking sound her heart raced, her mouth went dry and she had to force her breathing to stay smooth and regular.

  Ruby was more prone to suck on her thumb when her father was away, making Charley feel guilty for her negative reaction to it. With Dad gone, Ruby needed her more but all Charley wanted to do was get as far away from her as she could when she heard that distinctive slurping.

  This morning, however, Charley was the only person in their apartment making any sound and she tried to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake the others. She turned on the coffee pot and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair. When she emerged, she poured half a cup, added enough sugar to bake a cake and then filled the cup with half-and-half.

  She went out onto the balcony overlooking the James River and sat down sipping her highly adulterated coffee. She was lost in the beauty below when Ruby stumbled out to join her.

  ‘I want coffee, too,’ Ruby said.

  ‘No you don’t. You’re too little for coffee. I’ll make you a mug of cocoa.’

  ‘No. I want coffee!’ Ruby pouted.

  ‘Ssshh. Don’t wake Kara.’

  ‘But I want coffee,’ Ruby said even louder.

  Charley sighed. ‘OK. I’ll put a little coffee in your cocoa.’

  The two girls went into the kitchen. Charley dropped a small dollop of coffee into Ruby’s hot chocolate and added a shot of half-and-half, then fixed a second cup of coffee for herself. She carried both out to the balcony and the sisters sat side by side watching the river flow. ‘I don’t like this, Charley,’ Ruby said, placing her mug on the table and pushing it away.

  ‘See. I told you that you’re too little for coffee.’

  ‘I want some cocoa,’ Ruby whined.

  ‘All right. I’ll go make you another cup. I’ll just be a minute. You sit in your chair and don’t go near the railing.’ In the kitchen, Charley fixed a fresh hot chocolate while keeping her eye on her sister to make sure she stayed firmly seated. She carried the steaming mug and set it down in front of her. ‘Careful now. It’s hot. Blow on it before you sip.’

  Ruby took a noisy taste of her cocoa, set down her mug and smiled at her big sister. ‘Thank you, Charley. This is good.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Ruby. Now let’s sit and listen to the birds and the river for a bit.’ Charley was amazed that Ruby actually did as she asked. Baby sisters could really be aggravating and contrary and big babies. Charley suspected that Ruby was a bigger baby than most – and she knew why. They were both branded by their mother’s brutal murder.

  Sirens disrupted their serenity. Charley leaned over the railing but could see nothing even though she was sure the sound was nearby. ‘C’mon, Ruby, let’s go see what’s happening.’

  Charley led her sister out the door into the hallway and stopped. Across the hallway, policemen walked in and out of Mr Bryson’s apartment. Holding Ruby’s hand she walked up to the open door. ‘Is Mr Bryson hurt?’ she asked the first uniform she saw.

  ‘Go back into your apartment. We’re taking care of everything.’

  ‘But Mr Bryson? Is he OK?’

  ‘Do you live in this apartment?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then it’s none of your business. Go back to your apartment.’

  ‘But Mr Bryson is my friend.’

  ‘Your friend?’

  ‘He meets me in the lobby and gives me M&Ms and talks to me almost every day after school.’

  ‘Well, Mr Bryson can’t talk to you right now, little girl; go back to your place. OK?’

  Charley just stared at him as he went into Mr Bryson’s apartment and shut the door. She hated it when someone called her a little girl. Ruby was a little girl. She wasn’t. ‘C’mon, Ruby, we’re going downstairs to see if they know at the desk.’

  The two sisters rode down ten floors in the elevator and entered a lobby full of milling people and uniformed officers. She tugged Ruby toward the front entrance. Looking through the double glass doors, she saw paramedics busy over a body lying flat on the sidewalk in a pool of blood. She gasped. Ruby wailed and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sucking as if her life depended on it. Too late, Charley thought of her sister and how traumatic it would be for her to see the scene outside the building.

  Charley dragged Ruby back into the lobby, ‘You don’t want to look at that, Ruby. Please take your thumb out of your mouth, please.’

  Ruby looked up at her with big eyes and an ashen face and sucked her thumb even harder. Charley held tight to Ruby’s hand and went up to a uniformed officer. ‘Is that Mr Bryson lying on the ground?’ she asked.

  ‘You shouldn’t be down here. Where is your mother?’

  ‘My mother is dead – somebody killed her. Is Mr Bryson dead, too? Is that him on the sidewalk?’

  ‘Your mother is dead?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is she in your apartment?’

  ‘No.’ Charley thought that a preposterous question. Did he really think she’d be down here if her mother was dead upstairs? ‘Of course not. She died before we moved here.’

  ‘Where’s your father?’

  ‘He’s in Libya but that has nothing to do with anything. Is Mr Bryson dead?’

  ‘Who’s taking care of you?’ he said, crouching down to her level.

  ‘Kara.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She’s still asleep,’ Charley said, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘Did somebody kill Mr Bryson?’

  The officer paused for a moment. ‘Listen, let’s go upstairs and I’ll talk to Kara and she’ll know how to explain this to you.’

  ‘I’m not a baby. I know about people dying. My best friend is a police lieutenant. I’m not a stupid baby.’

  ‘I know you’re not a baby. But please, I don’t know how to explain this to you, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing, particularly in front of the little girl – is she your sister?’

  Well, at least he knows the difference between me and a little girl, Charley thought. ‘Yes, sir. Her name is Ruby.’

  ‘She seems very upset. Why don’t we go up to your place and talk to Kara?’

  Charley was irritated that she couldn’t get an answer to her simple question about Mr Bryson but gave in to the policeman’s request, thinking it might be the only way she’d learn what happened. She turned away from him and headed to the elevator.

  The officer followed her in and asked, ‘Which floor?’

  Charley didn’t answer – she just hit the button and stared at the closed doors. When they reached the apartment door, she noticed that Mr Bryson’s door was open again and the dreaded yellow tape blocked off that section of the hallway. Bile rose into her throat at the sight of it. She’d hated yellow ever since that day.

  Charley slid the key into the lock but before she could turn the knob, the door jerked open. Kara, with disheveled hair, wearing a terrycloth robe, stood just inside. ‘Where have you been, Charley? Don’t you know better than to go traipsing off with Ruby without saying a word?’

  ‘Somebody killed Mr Bryson!’ Charley shouted at her.

  Kara turned toward the policeman. ‘Officer?’

  ‘Can we step out into the hallway?’ he asked.

  Kara put a hand behind each of the girl’s backs, gently shoved them inside and pulled the door shut behind her as she joined the officer in the hall. Neither noticed when the door creaked open a crack. They had no idea that Charley was listening to every word.

  ‘Your neighbor, Jim Bryson, jumped from his window this morning. I don’t know where she got the idea that someone killed him. He left a suicide note – he’d lost his job, his father died and his girlfriend dumped him – all in the last month.’

  ‘Ohmigod!’

  ‘The older girl told me he was her friend and I just didn’t know how to explain a suicide to her . . .’

  ‘Yeah. How do you do that? Thank you, Officer. I’
ll handle it now – not quite sure how. Wish me luck. I sure don’t want to traumatize those girls anymore.’

  ‘Was their mother really murdered?’

  ‘Yeah. Three years ago. They’re still dealing with it. It hasn’t been easy – they found the body.’

  ‘Oh, man,’ he said. ‘Well, best of luck. Sorry to have to put you in this situation.’

  Kara took in a deep inhalation, exhaled loudly and turned the knob, surprised to see that the door was not shut tight. The moment she stepped in, though, she knew why.

  ‘It’s a lie!’ Charley yelled. ‘Mr Bryson was a nice man. He was my friend. He wouldn’t kill himself – it’s a lie. He wouldn’t leave me like that.’

  ‘Charley, I am so sorry—’ Kara began.

  ‘Tell me the policeman is a liar and I’ll believe you’re sorry,’ Charley interrupted.

  ‘Oh, Charley, the truth often hurts more than any lie. But you need to accept it no matter how much it hurts.’

  ‘I hate you,’ Charley said and rushed out of the living room and into her bedroom. She grabbed her phone and called the other woman who was a constant in her life, Lieutenant Lucinda Pierce – Lucy. The investigator who solved her mother’s murder and became a friend, confidant and the woman she most wished could take her mother’s place.

  ‘Oh, Lucy. I need you. I need you real bad.’

  THIRTY-SIX

  Only two miles separated the justice center from the Spencer’s luxury apartment building but the traffic was beastly that morning – stopping, starting and seeming to go nowhere. Lucinda tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, suppressing the desire to turn on a siren and peel out around them all. Abuse of privilege, she kept telling herself. She knew others did it all the time but it was a personal matter and she was loath to take advantage of the fact that she was law enforcement.

  She had no idea what caused Ruby’s distress but she knew that it always boiled up anxiety in Charley. The traffic was so maddening. Finally, she pulled into the parking garage, wondering what the cause of the commotion in the front of the building was and if it was connected to Charley’s need to see her. Waiting for the elevator was torturous but she knew it would get her up there faster than pounding up all those flights of stairs from the lower parking level to the tenth floor.

  Lucinda was startled to see the yellow crime scene tape blocking off the hallway just past the Spencer apartment. She instinctively knew that it had something to do with Charley’s problem. Should she cross the line and check out what was happening? Or check on Charley first? Making a quick decision, she hit the doorbell and Kara whipped open the door and stepped into the hall.

  ‘Our neighbor across the hall committed suicide this morning – jumped from his window onto the pavement. I was still asleep when Charley took Ruby down to the lobby to see what was happening – and they did. Ruby isn’t speaking and Charley is refusing to believe he killed himself. Their father is going to kill me when he gets back,’ Kara said, speaking as quickly as possible.

  Lucinda started to respond when the door pulled open again. ‘Lucy!’ Charley cried out. ‘The police are lying.’

  ‘Let’s talk inside,’ Lucinda said, pushing gently on the young girl as she walked across the threshold. ‘OK, Charley, why do you think they are lying?’

  Charley pointed at Kara. ‘She believes them. I don’t want to talk around her.’

  ‘All right, Charley. Let’s go up to your room.’ Lucinda shrugged apologetically at Kara.

  The babysitter smiled softly and mouthed, Don’t worry about it.

  Walking into Charley’s bedroom that morning, she noticed how much it had changed in the last couple of years. It was no longer the refuge of a child. The stuffed animals still lined the shelves above her tousled bed but not one of them lay on the sheets or pillows – she used to sleep with two or three of them for comfort. On the walls, where pictures of cartoon characters once hung, were photos of Johnny Depp as a pirate, Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, Lady Gaga and others Lucinda didn’t recognize decorating the wall along with a poster covered with photographs of protein crystals and another one with a collage of Janis Joplin photos. She’s growing up, Lucinda thought as she was hit with a wave of emotion that was a blend of pride and anxiety.

  ‘OK, Charley, why do you think the police are lying?’

  ‘Because Mr Bryson liked me. He told Daddy that seeing my smile made every day worthwhile. So he couldn’t have killed himself.’

  ‘Well, sometimes the things adults do don’t make sense to kids – or even to other grown-ups.’

  ‘But he didn’t. Someone killed him. Just like Mommy. Someone killed him. You’ve got to find out who did it. You’ve got to put them in jail,’ Charley wailed.

  Lucinda wrapped her arms around her and held her tight. She felt the trembles of Charley’s small body, heard the hiccups mixed with her sobs and felt a damp spot forming on her shirt where Charley’s little head rested. ‘Please, Lucy, please. You have to help Mr Bryson.’

  Lucinda let Charley cry herself out. Then she held her out at arm’s length and said, ‘Charley, I’m going across the hall. I’ll talk to them. I’ll look at what’s in his apartment. And then I will give you an honest answer. I’ll give you my professional opinion, OK?’

  Charley sniffled and rubbed the back of her hand across her nose. ‘OK, Lucy.’

  ‘You trust me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will you believe me, no matter what I say?’

  ‘But, Lucy . . .’

  ‘Charley . . .’

  ‘I’ll try. No matter what. Even if I don’t like it.’

  ‘OK, sweetie,’ Lucinda said and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  Across the hall, Lucinda read the suicide note detailing all the bad news that had befallen Jim Bryson. She looked at the balcony for any indication that someone else had forced him over the railing. Instead she saw a table with an overflowing ashtray, a bottle of Glenlivet, three-quarters gone, and a crystal tumbler with less than half an inch of whiskey.

  She looked down at the sidewalk below where one foot stuck out from beneath the blanket thrown over his body. ‘He was barefoot when he jumped?’

  ‘Yeah,’ a detective told her. ‘His shoes with socks stuffed inside are sitting beside the sliding glass door.’

  ‘No doubts that it’s a suicide, then?’

  ‘None at all. I’ve run into a fake suicide once before and I’m always suspicious. Nailed the husband on that one. But here? Nothing even closely resembling anything else. I sent someone to see his mother who said he’s been very distraught for the last few weeks. He called her yesterday evening and told her he loved her. She thought the outpouring was just a by-product of his sorrow – now she’s beating herself up for not dropping everything and driving into town to see him. She said her son had a long history with depression and suicidal ideation and she should have known it was serious. Is there something you know that I don’t, Lieutenant?’

  ‘No, Sergeant. I just have a sad little girl who doesn’t want to believe that Bryson took his own life. I’m not sure if she feels his death was a personal affront or if she’s just feeling guilty that she did nothing to stop him.’

  ‘Not much a little girl could have done in a case like this.’

  ‘No,’ Lucinda said. ‘But that is something she is too young to understand.’ And every time anyone dies suddenly, Charley will probably instantly suspect murder – the pain of her mother’s death will never completely go away. Just as her own hadn’t, Lucinda thought. She closed her eyes and sighed.

  ‘Lieutenant? Are you OK?’

  ‘Not really. I’ve got to explain suicide to an eleven-year-old. Not a pleasant or easy task.’

  ‘Wish you luck,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lucinda said as she exited the apartment and walked slightly down and across the hall. She went straight to Charley’s bedroom.

  Charley, startled, looked up at her. ‘Well, who did
it?’

  Lucinda exhaled with force. She sat down on the girl’s bed and patted a spot beside her. ‘Come sit with me, sweetie.’

  ‘No!’ she said, shaking her head from side to side. ‘You believe their lies. You’re part of the cover-up.’

  ‘Oh, Charley, there’s no cover-up. Please come and sit here,’ she said, patting the mattress again. ‘C’mon. Let me tell you what I learned.’

  Charley stood for a moment with her arms folded, looking out the window. Then she slouched over to the bed and sat down. Her body was rigid and she would not look at Lucinda.

  ‘I read his suicide note, Charley.’

  ‘I saw a show on TV. Somebody faked a suicide note when they killed someone and fooled the police.’

  ‘That was a typed note, wasn’t it?’

  Charley finally looked at her with a furrowed brow. ‘I think so.’

  ‘This one was handwritten. It looked like all the other writing in the apartment.’

  ‘Well, it was a really smart killer. He learned to forge his handwriting before he murdered Mr Bryson.’

  Lucinda sighed. ‘No, Charley. There are certain distinctive quirks about a person’s handwriting and they were all there in the note. No one could get it that perfectly.’

  ‘But I never saw him cry.’

  ‘You brightened every day for him, Charley. You gave him a little bit of happiness each time he saw you. But so much had gone wrong in his life recently. He just did not see any other way out. He’s been battling depression all his life. Do you know what depression is?’

  Charley shook her head. ‘Sort of.’ Then she bent over double and sobbed. ‘I should have been better. I should have been nicer. I should have spent more time with him.’

  ‘Charley. Charley,’ Lucinda said and put an index finger under her chin and turned her face up to hers. ‘Listen to me, Charley. There was nothing you could do. You couldn’t get his job back. You couldn’t fix his relationship with his girlfriend. You couldn’t bring his father back to life. It was out of your hands. But you should be proud of yourself. You brought a little bit of sunshine into his life. The time he spent with you was a break from his sorrow. His mother said he’d been battling depression all his life. This isn’t on you – not in the least little bit.’