False Front (Lucinda Pierce)

by Diane Fanning

  No matter how hard she thought about it, she could not envision a scenario that had a happy ending for herself or for the victims. She couldn’t figure out how she was going to make Middleton pay.

  An hour later when she boarded the plane with Jake, she still had no answers. And the agents from Jake’s field office found no sign of Tess Middleton anywhere. Both she and Jake tried to sleep on the flight back but every time either one of them drifted off, they startled awake with one question in their minds: have the agents found Tess Middleton?

  Every time the pilot responded that he’d received no updates from the ground. Lucinda felt she was drowning in helplessness. Nothing she could do while trapped in the air in that fancy tin can. She breathed a sigh of relief when they touched down in Virginia.

  A car waited for them on the tarmac, dropping Lucinda off at her office. There were a few people present when she arrived that Monday morning but it was still early and many were not yet in for the day. At her desk, she logged into her email, hoping for reports with more information.

  She clicked on an email from Lara Quivey. Lindsey Barnaby grew up just around the corner and four houses up from where Candace lived when she was in high school and on the same street as Bonnie Upchurch/Olivia Cartwright. It was pretty much a moot point now that she’d interviewed Olivia.

  She sighed and noticed an email from the medical examiner’s office. Attached to it was a toxicology report of the excised area around what appeared to be an intra-muscular injection site. The lab found the presence of Promethazine. The body of the message explained the significance of this discovery.

  The investigator for the office contacted Candace Eagleton’s primary physician, who informed them that the victim had a prescription for the injectable form of the drug because of severe anaphylactic reactions to bee stings. Further, the doctor said that she always had a sufficient supply for six injections and had not reported having to use any of them since the prescription was refilled. It was her normal operating procedure to do so.

  Coordination with the forensic team revealed that the drug had not been found in the search of the home. That, combined with the presence of the drug in the excised area, led to the conclusion that some, if not all of the injections, were administered to the victim before her death.

  ‘Promethazine is an antihistamine. Its side effects include drowsiness, blurred vision, involuntary muscle movements and spasms, a weakening of muscles and severe dizziness. In sufficient dosage, it could render a person incapable of defending themselves against an attack.’

  Lucinda leaned back in her chair. The drug explained the lack of violent struggle – Candace would be incapable of anything but a weak defense. But, how, she wondered, would Trappatino be aware of her prescription? How would he know where to find it? Is it possible that Trappatino had nothing to do with her murder?

  FIFTY-SIX

  Tess Middleton directed the cab to the Hilton Hotel near the airport. She trusted Dufus the dog not to betray her plans but she knew the two-legged dufus she left at her home was not as bright as his pet. If he knew anything, there was a good chance he’d let it slip out to the first person who asked him.

  If that happened, a search for Tess at the airport that night would be fruitless. By the time she flew out the next afternoon, anyone looking for her would have given up. She pulled out and examined her tickets. A non-stop flight to San Francisco in the name of Lindsey Barnaby – and the return ticket that she would never use. Passage on a different airline to Singapore. And tickets for a third airline to fly her to the Hulhole airport in the Maldives. She smiled. Paradise would be an excellent place to rebuild her life.

  She double-checked to make sure she had the right passport. Opening up the blue booklet she saw her face staring back at her and the words that identified her as Lindsey Barnaby. She’d shredded her own passport and dropped the pieces of cross-cut paper into the James River to wash to the sea.

  She had a fortune tucked away in overseas bank accounts and her lawyer had instructions to deposit any further earnings in a segregated account. Even if federal authorities managed to block her access to those newer funds, she still had sufficient assets to live very comfortably – luxuriously – for more than one lifetime.

  Tess pushed down her anger at Trappatino’s screw-up. Rage could only cloud her judgment. She needed to remain sharp and on top of everything until she reached safety. From there, she could plan her revenge. She’d dumped her disposable cell into the river, too, one piece at a time.

  She’d booked the adjoining room next to hers, creating an imaginary lover to occupy it. Unlocking the connecting door, she went down the hall and entered the other room, opening it on that side as well. She made sure the bolt was thrown and the chain engaged on both doors leading to the hallway. She then unplugged a floor lamp on each side and placed it by those entrances to give her an extra warning should anyone try to enter.

  Tess wanted to take a long, luxuriant soak in the whirlpool tub but feared it would make her too vulnerable in case the unexpected happened. She settled for a quick shower and then redressed completely before stretching out on the bed to get what sleep she could.

  Anxiety over the next afternoon’s events made sleep elusive. She assured herself that all she needed was rest. She could catch up on her sleep on board the plane – she had many hours of flying ahead. Knowing that, she drifted off but maintained the alertness of a cat, ready to jump at a moment’s notice.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Lucinda called Jake and relayed her new reservations about the guilt of Julius Trappatino in the death of Candace Eagleton. ‘I just can’t put the pieces together in any scenario that makes sense. He couldn’t have known about her prescription for the allergy drug.’

  Jake was quiet for a minute and then said, ‘Unless someone told him.’

  ‘Who? If we go with the theory that Tess Middleton hired him, how would she know?’

  ‘But it’s the only thing that makes sense,’ Jake said.

  ‘Not with the administering of the Promethazine,’ Lucinda insisted. ‘That shoots holes in that scenario.’

  ‘So what are you saying? That someone else killed Candace for some other reason and it coincidentally happened at the same time that attempts were made on the lives of the other two people who knew Tess Middleton’s secret?’

  Lucinda shuddered. ‘Coincidence. I hate that word.’

  ‘Yeah, but what are we left with?’

  ‘Frank Eagleton,’ Lucinda said.

  ‘He has an alibi,’ Jake said.

  ‘Yes, but if you know something is going to happen, you can make sure you have an alibi.’

  ‘Now you sound like a conspiracy nut.’

  ‘I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, Jake,’ Lucinda said. ‘Now tell me: where is Tess Middleton?’

  ‘Don’t know. She was not spotted at the airport. No one using identification with that name passed through security yesterday.’

  ‘Does that mean she lied to her fiancé? Does that mean she did not intend to fly out today?’

  ‘Maybe. Or maybe she slipped past us using an alias.’

  The silence stretched out as they both lapsed into thought. Then it hit her.

  ‘Jake, don’t a lot of people with false IDs use the identity of dead people?’

  ‘Yeah. They get birth certificates. And social security cards. And then a passport.’

  ‘She is using the name of one of her victims.’

  ‘The murders are too recent. She wouldn’t have time to get a passport in Candace’s name and heaven knows, she’d never pass as Charles,’ Jake argued.

  ‘But she had plenty of time – thirty years, in fact – to assume an identity in Lindsey Barnaby’s name.’

  ‘Crap. I should have thought of that. I gotta run and get that name out to everyone.’

  Lucinda hung up and wondered what she could do now. She wanted to talk to Frank Eagleton about his wife’s prescription medication but knew she had to go thr
ough his attorney. She placed a call and was told he was in court. She left a message and fretted over her current state of inaction. She began perusing all the background materials provided to her by the research department, looking for something she might have missed or anything that might prompt a new line of inquiry.

  Engrossed in her review, she grabbed her cell when it rang without looking at the screen.

  ‘Lieutenant Pierce?’

  The voice sounded familiar. ‘Yes. Is this Mr Eagleton?’

  ‘I was informed you called my attorney this morning.’

  ‘Yes, I did. I told him I needed to speak to you.’

  ‘He’s going to be tied up in court all day today and I didn’t want to leave you hanging. What do you need to know?’

  Lucinda was perplexed. He was so adamant that everything go through his attorney. What game was he playing now? Has he had a change of heart about the investigation? Or is he playing me? Does he want to be helpful or is he feeling cocky? ‘Mr Eagleton, I wanted to ask you about the emergency supply of Promethazine your wife had.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Could you come to the justice center or could I come by your office so that we can talk?’

  ‘No. Don’t have time for that today. But if you have questions, I’ll be glad to answer them right now.’

  Lucinda thought about waiting until she could meet with him face-to-face. But when would that be? She decided to get what information she could while Frank was amenable to talking. ‘Do you know if she had to use any of it since she got the prescription refilled?’

  ‘I don’t believe so. She had two doses left when she got it filled again and I don’t think she used it once. Unless maybe she needed to inject the morning before she died.’

  ‘Where are the remaining doses?’

  ‘In the medicine cabinet in her bathroom.’

  ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘Yes. Even though we were sleeping in separate rooms, she always wanted me to know where to find her medication in case she was too incapacitated to inject herself.’

  ‘It wasn’t there, Mr Eagleton. Where else do you suppose it might be?’

  ‘Not there? That makes no sense.’

  ‘I didn’t think so either.’

  ‘I can look again when I get home. There should be eight doses remaining or at least seven.’

  ‘And you know how to administer it?’

  ‘Yes. I haven’t done it more than two or three times in all the years we were married but I know exactly what to do.’

  ‘Did you inject your wife on the morning of her death?’

  ‘No. I did not. What’s this all about?’

  ‘I received toxicology results from the area around an injection site on your wife’s body.’

  ‘She must have gone out in the garden that morning and gotten stung.’

  How convenient, Lucinda thought. He certainly had a quick response for that one. ‘Does she spend a lot of time in the garden?’

  ‘More than she should. She loved the flowers – and is especially fond of the scent of the roses. I’ve warned her about how dangerous it is for her to smell them but she never would listen.’

  ‘I’m sure you did,’ Lucinda said, trying to make her tone of voice believable. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Eagleton.’

  ‘I’ll call you tonight if I find her medicine.’

  ‘You do that, sir.’ Lucinda disconnected the call. She was certain she’d hear back that night – positive that he would find the Promethazine, one way or the other. She immediately picked up the landline and hit the extension number for the head of the forensics unit, Marguerite Spellman.

  ‘No, Lieutenant,’ she said, ‘there was nothing of the sort in the medicine cabinet. In fact, there was nothing in there when we left. I removed every drug – prescription and over-the-counter – for possible testing. That cupboard was bare when we left the scene.’

  ‘Look through the recovered contents again – just to be certain. I know that sounds lame, but please indulge me.’ Lucinda’s cell was ringing as she ended the call. ‘Pierce.’

  ‘Lindsey Barnaby has had an active passport for the last twenty-two years.’

  ‘The same Lindsey Barnaby?’

  ‘Same birth date. Same city of birth. Same social security number.’

  ‘It’s got to be Middleton.’

  ‘That or a coincidence – someone heard of her death . . .’

  ‘Don’t start with that crap, Jake. It’s just too connected to be unconnected.’

  ‘Do you realize that makes next to no sense?’

  ‘Don’t be picky – you know what I mean.’

  ‘Yeah, I do. We’re checking now to see if that passport went through security. So far, it doesn’t appear so.’

  ‘Why aren’t we at the airport?’

  ‘I’m on my way to pick you up right now.’

  Before she could insist that she do the driving, Jake was gone. She hated the way he drove – but she did love his car. She gathered her things and took the stairs down to the first floor.

  When Jake’s car pulled up, she noticed its usually immaculate exterior was covered with dust, and beneath that outer layer it was riddled with dings and scratches. ‘What happened to your car?’ she asked as she climbed in.

  ‘The dirt and gravel roads of Albemarle County happened.’

  ‘You’ve got to let me pay for the bodywork you need.’

  ‘Only if it’s a wedding present.’

  ‘Wedding present? Who’s the lucky girl?’

  ‘Ha, ha, ha, Lucy.’

  ‘You actually thought I’d accept that?’

  ‘I was hoping.’

  ‘That was the lamest excuse for a proposal I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘What’s a guy to do? When I’m direct, you blow me off.’

  ‘You won’t get commitment from me with trickery, Jake.’

  ‘What will it take, Lucy?’

  ‘Shut up and drive, Jake.’

  ‘No. What will it take?’

  ‘I told you that I wouldn’t consider it until I’d finished with my surgical procedures on my face.’

  ‘And yet, you keep putting them off.’

  ‘Cut it out. I don’t have the time right now.’

  ‘You won’t make the time because it’s a handy excuse to avoid commitment.’

  ‘We’re working, Jake. Keep focused on the job at hand.’

  ‘So why do I think that when all the surgery is over you’ll put me off saying that you can’t make a commitment until you can see out of both eyes.’

  ‘They can’t do that, Jake. They can’t transplant an eye to replace the one I lost.’

  ‘Exactly. Now you get my point?’

  ‘Just drive, Jake. And don’t miss the turn-off to the airport.’

  Entering the airport, Jake stopped at several people who appeared to be innocuous travelers – some in business suits, others in casual wear. If Jake hadn’t pointed them out she would have never suspected that they were part of the team searching for Tess Middleton.

  Jake’s cell rang. He listened without saying a word. Turning to Lucinda, he said, ‘Lindsey Barnaby is booked on an American Airlines flight to San Francisco. Terminal C, gate twelve.’

  They power walked over toward the security line for the terminal and scanned the waiting faces. Commotion erupted at one of the desks where TSA checked identification. A woman argued with the man at the podium and tried to jerk her passport out of his hand. Another uniformed man moved quickly in that direction. Suddenly, the woman broke free, turning toward Lucinda and Jake, revealing her identity: Tess Middleton.

  She loped off back into the terminal with the pair hot on her heels. Lucinda’s height helped her see above the mass of moving bodies. She shoved them to the side as she fought against the crowd moving straight at her. She thought she lost Tess then spotted her again, slipping into the ladies’ restroom.

  She signaled to Jake and dashed in after her. She looked around
the room. No one in the open was Tess. She looked under the door of the first cubicle. She saw two pairs of legs – one adult, the other a child. The child jabbered away at someone she called ‘Mommy.’ Behind the next door, she saw a pair of legs with jeans draped around the ankles and moved on to the third one.

  She saw no sign of occupancy. She pulled gently on the handle. Locked. Her heart pounded in her chest. Outside the restroom, she heard the sound of voices. Someone – probably Jake and maybe others – were blocking entry. Women’s raised voices whined and objected. She moved to the fourth door. She saw a pair of legs and high-heeled shoes that could belong to Tess. The fifth cubicle appeared empty. She pulled on the door. It opened revealing nothing more than a vacant space with a toilet. The sixth space was occupied by a woman with dark legs. Not Tess.

  She had two doors to consider. One was harmless. The other was her quarry. Her quarry was cornered. Could she be dangerous? Possibly. She would have to wait until everyone else left the room. She placed her hand on her gun but didn’t pull it out – she didn’t want to alarm anyone knowing their reaction could give an edge to Middleton.

  The woman and a little girl exited their stall. The child looked at Lucinda and stopped chattering. Her mouth fell open and she stared at Lucinda’s face. Lucinda smiled.

  ‘Becca,’ the woman said. ‘It is not polite to stare. Come wash your hands.’ She gave Lucinda an apologetic smile.

  Lucinda shrugged in response. A teenager wearing jeans walked out of the second door and a woman of color left the sixth space – now only the two suspicious stalls remained. Lucinda wanted to pull her gun but still she waited. She heard the sharp clatter of the door latch being jerked back. Lucinda held her breath. The fourth cubicle door opened slowly. Lucinda grasped the handle of her gun and flipped off the safety.

  Emerging, the woman recoiled at the intensity of Lucinda’s stare. She sidled past the booths and left without washing her hands. Lucinda pulled her gun. What now? She suspected whoever was in cubicle three would see her feet wherever she moved. Sneaking into the adjacent booth and aiming over the transom at her was not a reasonable option. She got into shooter’s stance with the barrel of her gun pointing at the door and the occupant beyond it. ‘Tess Middleton, I know you are in that booth. Come out with your hands on top of your head.’