Wrong Turn

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Wrong Turn Page 23

by Diane Fanning


  Lucinda looked skyward. ‘Mrs Sherman, I am a public servant but that does not entitle you to banish me to the kitchen as if I am your personal hired help.’

  ‘Oh, dear, I wasn’t thinking how that might sound. I didn’t mean to be dismissive. Come with me. You can sit in the garden. It’s lovely this time of year.’ Dora led her down a hallway, into a sitting room and out of a pair of French doors. Outside, she gestured to a sitting area on a stone patio. ‘I’ll send cook out with some refreshments.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  ‘Oh, nonsense,’ she said as she went back inside.

  A woman in a floral print dress with a white apron tied around her middle stepped out onto the patio. Her graying hair was pulled back in a bun and wrinkles creased beside her merry eyes. ‘What would you like? Coffee, tea, soft drink, beer or something else? I’m sure we’ll have whatever you’d like.’

  Feeling perverse, Lucinda decided to ask for something that few people had on hand. ‘How about a diet ginger ale?’

  ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘Back in a minute.’

  After she left, Lucinda thought, I should have asked for a Blackened Voodoo beer – surely she wouldn’t have that in the house. Or maybe some fruity sweet screw-top wine; they’d probably die before allowing a bottle of that to cross the threshold.

  The woman returned faster than Lucinda thought she could have reached the kitchen. She set a glass with its fizzing beverage poured over ice on the table and added a bowl of pretzels and another of cashews down beside it. ‘If you need anything else, just press that buzzer and I’ll be here as quickly as I can.’

  Lucinda sipped on her drink and nibbled on the nuts as her patience rapidly dwindled away. Finally, she heard the doorbell ring and the sound of a male and female voice in conversation. She reached over and opened the door a bit, hoping to hear what they were saying. ‘Fine, whatever you want, Miss Canterbury. But let me do the talking.’

  Miss Canterbury? Lucinda thought. Why is he referring to her by her maiden name? She slouched back in the chair, leaning away from the door.

  A tall man in an expensive suit stepped outside with Dora by his side. ‘Miss Canterbury believes that you are here inquiring about Mr Sherman, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘And that your inquiries involve his former wife Martha Sherman?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Miss Canterbury wants me to inform you that she is in the process of having divorce papers served on Andrew Sherman. She has a locksmith on his way here to change all the locks on the house.’

  ‘Is she aware of where her husband is and what he is doing at this moment?’

  The attorney turned to Dora. She shook her head. ‘I thought he was at his office.’

  ‘Actually, he’s at the DA’s office. Plotting the rearrest of Martha Sherman.’

  ‘I will say that does reinforce Miss Canterbury’s decision to terminate her marriage. She has kept up with developments and Andrew Sherman’s continued persecution of that innocent woman is part of her reason for wanting to dissolve the relationship.’

  ‘That’s noble. It’s all on principle, then?’

  The attorney looked at Dora. ‘Go on,’ Dora said. ‘Don’t be an ass. Tell her the real reasons and ask for her cooperation.’

  The lawyer’s face flushed. He nodded his head at his client and turned back to Lucinda. ‘The two issues of most concern to my client is that Andrew Sherman’s actions will put her on the front page of the news, reminding everyone of her poor judgment when she became involved with him while he was still married to Martha. The other thing is that there is a strong possibility that Martha will sue Andrew and Miss Canterbury does not desire to be financially tied to her husband when and if that happens.’

  ‘So just throw penniless Martha to Andrew and his lions?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ the lawyer continued. ‘Miss Canterbury accepts her unsavory role in the break-up of Andrew and Martha’s marriage and the fact that she did, unwittingly, enable Andrew’s persecution of an innocent woman. For that reason, she has made a generous settlement offer to Martha in exchange for her agreement not to involve her in any legal clashes Martha has with Andrew in the future.’

  He turned from Lucinda and toward his client. ‘Did I leave anything out, Miss Canterbury?’

  ‘Nothing but a thank you. We would have never known Andrew’s location if not for your information, lieutenant. I appreciate that. We can send the man serving the papers over there. I want this over and done with as soon as possible.’ She extended her hand toward Lucinda, who accepted her firm grasp and returned one of her own.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am. Thank you for not keeping me in the dark.’

  ‘One more thing, lieutenant,’ the lawyer said. ‘We would appreciate it if you would keep Miss Canterbury’s name out of the media.’

  ‘Sir, I have no control over that. I, for one, will not say anything publicly about her, but I cannot control what anyone else does.’

  ‘As long as you agree not to feed the fire, that will be quite satisfactory. And, just so you know, I plan to deliver a message loud and clear to Andrew Sherman: I am prepared to stretch out any financial settlement connected to the divorce indefinitely as long as he persists in harassing Martha Sherman. We have every reason to believe he will comply since he lost most of his personal wealth because of a few unwise investments – and frittered away a considerable sum of Miss Canterbury’s funds in the same foolish ventures.’

  Lucinda smiled as she walked back to her car.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Lucinda returned to the Justice Center and to DA Reed’s office. Loud voices were bouncing off the walls behind the closed doors. ‘You think that’s something, you should have heard it when the process server arrived,’ Cindy said.

  The door flew open, slamming into the wall. A red-faced Andrew Sherman stomped out of the office. He spotted Lucinda and said, ‘And you helped him, too, didn’t you? I’ll get you for this, too.’

  What did that mean? Who does he think I helped? Rogers? Lucinda wondered.

  ‘Ah, Pierce, just who I wanted to see,’ DA Reed said.

  Lucinda swung around and glared at him. ‘Oh right, you wanted me to catch you pandering to one of your campaign supporters.’

  Reed smiled. ‘And that bothers you?’

  ‘Have you listened to anything I’ve said?’

  ‘Actually, I have,’ Reed said.

  ‘It doesn’t exactly look like it, Reed.’

  ‘Where have you been in the last few hours?’

  ‘That’s irrelevant.’

  ‘Not really,’ he said and then turned to his secretary. ‘Cindy, was the lieutenant aware that Andrew Sherman was in my office this morning?’

  Cindy blanched. ‘Well, sir, uh . . .’

  ‘Yes, I was, Reed,’ Lucinda interrupted.

  ‘Did you tell anyone else?’

  Lucinda ran her tongue across the inside of her lower lip, as she tried to think of a way to evade the question and failed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Dora Sherman?’ he asked.

  ‘She prefers to be called Dora Canterbury now.’

  ‘Ah ha! I thought it had to be you. He accused me of informing his wife that he was in my office so that she could corner him here and serve the divorce papers. He has, of course, withdrawn his financial support from my re-election campaign. But the funny thing is that the only money Andrew Sherman will probably have after the divorce will likely be tied up in attorney’s fees and the judgment in the civil suit brought by Martha Sherman.’

  ‘Dora Canterbury’s lawyer said much the same thing.’

  ‘The divorce removes Andrew Sherman from my base of contributors with big pockets,’ Reed said with a grin. ‘Thus making everything he says and thinks irrelevant to my political future.’

  ‘So you’re not rearresting Martha Sherman?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Reed said.

  ‘Because the person who wanted you
to arrest her has now been rendered financially impotent?’ Lucinda asked, hoping somehow she was reaching the wrong conclusion.

  ‘I hate that word.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Impotent. It makes my skin crawl.’

  Lucinda dropped her head and shook it. He’s such an ass, she thought.

  ‘Hey,’ Reed said, ‘give me credit. I’m doing the right thing.’

  Lucinda blew a sharp gust of air through her lips. ‘But for all the wrong reasons, Reed. You’re hopeless,’ she said, turning to leave.

  ‘Oh, wait. One more thing.’

  Lucinda hesitated before turning back around. Did she really need or want to hear his political excuses any longer? ‘What, Reed?’

  ‘Phillips. Chris Phillips. We got a plea bargain worked out.’

  Lucinda felt nauseous. What had he done now? She steeled herself for the worst bargain with a killer she could imagine and then realized she probably couldn’t conceive of how bad it could get. ‘OK, tell me, how soon is he going to get out?’

  ‘Oh, ye of little faith . . .’

  ‘Oh, please, you’re quoting from scripture now? How bad is it?’

  ‘You gotta let me start from the beginning,’ Reed said, bouncing on his toes.

  Lucinda shrugged and sighed. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘At first, I said I was going for the death penalty and the lawyer thought I was bluffing. But then I led him to believe I had enough evidence to charge him with first degree murder in the death of wife number one. And two murders and an attempted murder – with financial motives one and all – add up to the death penalty.’

  ‘You just led him to believe? So you lied, what else?’

  ‘As I suspected, Phillips panicked over that possibility. The lawyer came back with a counter-offer. Twenty years minus time served.’

  Lucinda ran the math in her head. With good behavior, he’d be out in seven years. ‘Oh, no . . .’

  ‘No, no, no, no, no! I didn’t agree to that. I came back with life without parole if he pled guilty to the death of wife number three. And, then I added – you’ll like this – I said he had to admit in open court that he was responsible for the death of wife number one and the assault on wife number two.’

  ‘You know these women have names?’ Lucinda snapped.

  ‘Of course, of course. Numbers are easier to keep straight. Anyway, the lawyer objected strongly to that. He said that they’d take their chances at trial if I didn’t include the possibility that he’d get out of prison one day.’

  ‘So of course you went along with that?’ Lucinda said.

  ‘Yeah, but wait, it gets better. I threw in something else. I said, OK, a life sentence with the possibility of parole and his willing agreement not to fight the permanent termination of his parental rights.’

  That’s something, Lucinda thought. ‘And then?’

  ‘I said I’d leave them alone to talk it over. And reminded them that if they didn’t agree to that offer, then I could put the death penalty back on the table. I said if a jury found him guilty of two murders, even if he didn’t get death, he would surely get two consecutive life sentences. The lawyer accused me of bluffing again but I just shrugged and walked away.’

  ‘So it’s still up in the air?’

  ‘No, they called me back in an hour. There must be something out there that can prove Phillips murdered wife number one and whatever that is, Phillips thinks I found it. His attorney said that he decided to accept the offer because – and you’ll just love the piety of this one – he said that Phillips accepted because he didn’t want to put his son through the ordeal of testifying against him on the stand. Can you believe it?’

  ‘Sure, Reed, a lot of people do the right things for all the wrong reasons.’

  ‘Oh, you’re back to that now. What’s wrong with you? Everything turned out like you wanted and you’re still giving me a hard time? I just don’t get it.’

  ‘No, I don’t doubt that, Reed,’ she said, walking away.

  ‘Wait. I still don’t understand your problem,’ he objected.

  ‘And you probably never will.’

  EPILOGUE

  With Chris Phillips back in prison, Mack Rogers dead, Charley cleared of wrongdoing and Martha Sherman rebuilding her life, the only case hanging over Lucinda’s head was the assault charge filed against her sister-in-law by her sister. There was not a thing she could do to influence the progress of that situation and no telling when it would be resolved. She knew there’d never be a better time for her to take an extended absence from work. Not being able to hang on to the ‘middle-of-the-case’ excuse, she succumbed to the pressure from Charley, Jake and Rambo Burns and scheduled another surgery despite her misgivings.

  When the doorbell rang two days later, Chester ducked behind the sofa and peered around the corner, his eyes on the apartment door. Lucinda opened it to Jake and three suitcases.

  ‘Good grief, Jake, you need all that for one week?’

  ‘No. You’re on leave for a month. I’m here for a month. I only have ten days of leave and after that I’ll have to go back to work but I’ll still be here evenings and weekends to run errands and keep an eye on your recovery.’

  ‘Jake, that isn’t necessary.’

  ‘Maybe not for you. But it is for me. I need to be here, Lucy.’

  ‘Jake, I don’t want you to feel obligated . . .’

  ‘I don’t feel obligated, Lucy. I feel committed. How about you?’

  Lucinda turned away. ‘One step at a time, Jake.’

  As they lugged his suitcases into the apartment, Jake asked, ‘If you moved out of this place what would you miss the most?’

  Lucinda set the suitcase she was carrying on the floor at the entrance to the hallway and went into the kitchen and got out a bottle of wine while she considered the question. ‘I’d have to say the view of the river – it soothes me and gives me a sense of grounding to the earth.’

  ‘I guess finding another place with a river view would have to be a priority for you then.’

  Lucinda had a suspicion that this conversation was leading someplace she was not ready to go, but it was best not to acknowledge her awareness and force him to be more direct or drop the subject entirely. Pouring two glasses of wine, she said, ‘That or the pounding surf.’

  ‘You’re not going to get that here. So if you stayed here in town, what would be your ideal place?’

  ‘The Spencer condo – or something like it with a balcony jutting out over the river and that is way out of my reach.’

  ‘If we pooled our resources, we could get something a bit smaller but with the balcony over the river that you like.’

  Lucinda swallowed hard and reached for one of his bags. ‘Well, let’s get your stuff put away in the bedroom. I hope we can find a place to put everything. I only cleared out one dresser drawer and the closet isn’t the biggest. As you know, I stretched my budget a bit to afford this place and . . .’ she rambled on.

  Jake placed a hand on Lucinda’s forearm. ‘Hey, it’s OK. Relax. One day at a time works fine for now. No pressure. I promise.’

  Under Chester’s watchful eyes, they managed to find a place to stow Jake’s clothing and toiletries. To Lucinda’s relief, the empty suitcases slid easily underneath the bed.

  ‘OK,’ Jake said, ‘how about we go get some dinner, maybe catch a movie. We can’t stay out too late. You need to get a good night’s sleep before your surgery tomorrow.’

  Lucinda looked into his eyes, a smile on her face.

  ‘What?’ Jake asked.

  ‘First things, first, Mr Special Agent man,’ she said, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bed.

 

 

 
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