“Good,” Lucinda said, pleased that Marguerite was living up to her reputation for thoroughness. “Could you spare someone to come with me to get a buccal swab from the boy we think is his son?”
“Sure. Give me fifteen, twenty minutes to check in with all my team members, Lieutenant, and I can follow you over there.”
“Terrific. I’ll be downstairs,” Lucinda said, starting to turn away until a thought brought her back to face Marguerite. “Listen, you’ve been at this for a long time. Seen a lot of homicide scenes.”
“Sure have. It’ll be seventeen years in September.”
“Give me your gut reaction to this one – could it be the work of a thirteen-year-old?”
After barking out a startled laugh, Marguerite said, “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
“Oh, man. Oh, my God, Lieutenant. A thirteen-year-old?” She turned and looked across the bedroom into the bloodied bathroom. “I suppose anything is possible – but a thirteen-year-old kid? Whoa. I sure hope to God not.”
“Me, too,” Lucinda said. “Me, too.”
Six
Lucinda turned into an older neighborhood, on a street filled with fifties-era ranch homes and lined with tall trees. The address of Freddy’s grandmother was a tidy brick home with roses, irises and gladioli adding a riot of color to a small yard inside a split-rail fence.
As Lucinda opened her door, Robin stepped out of a patrol car. “She didn’t want you in the house?” Lucinda asked.
“Oh, she did. But she plied me with tea and cookies while asking a steady stream of questions that I didn’t want to answer. I told her I had to check in with the dispatcher and retreated out to the car.”
“Anything about her questions cause you any concern?”
“Lieutenant, I wouldn’t presume …”
“Colter, cut the crap. You have an opinion, I want it.”
“Yes, sir – uh, ma’am. I, uh …”
“Colter, listen. You impressed me when you stood up to that school superintendent who was twice your size a year or so ago. You didn’t let him intimidate you. Don’t let me.”
Colter gave a tight nod. “Yes, ma’am.” She cleared her throat, took a breath and said, “Her questions seemed strange to me not because of what she wanted to know but because of the way she asked. She sounded curious but she didn’t seem concerned. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I think I do. What’s going on in the house?”
“Freddy brought his Wii from home and I helped him set it up on the television in the basement. When I came outside, he was still down there playing a video game and the grandmother was sitting in the living room.”
“Marguerite Spellman from forensics is on her way here. I’m going in to find out if Grandma will let us have a buccal swab from Freddy. Bring Spellman in when she arrives. Pay close attention to Freddy and the grandma’s behavior; I’ll want your feedback after we leave.” Without waiting for confirmation, Lucinda turned and walked up to the front door. Victoria Whitehead opened it before Lucinda could ring the bell. Her hair was the consistency of dried straw, the make-up on her face a bit too thick to look anywhere near natural and the deep V-neck of her red dress revealed a bounteous but tired-looking bosom.
“Oh, my lands, officer! What happened to your face?” Victoria sputtered.
Lucinda flashed her badge. “May I come in, ma’am?” Maybe, just maybe, she’ll forget she asked.
“Of course, of course. That was rude. Sorry. Please have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you,” Lucinda said as she studied her surroundings. The living room looked like Victoria, colorful but worn, wafting the fragrance of lilacs offset by an undertone of chicken soup. A long teal sofa nestled under the picture window, facing two overstuffed floral-patterned chairs. A glass-topped coffee table filled the space between them – an assortment of crystals rested on its surface. On the far wall, the mantel of the brick fireplace was adorned with family photographs, candles and more crystals.
“Please, please, have a seat,” Victoria insisted. “Freddy is downstairs. Should I fetch him?”
“Not yet, ma’am. Would you please have a seat?” Lucinda said as she slipped into one of the chairs. “I need to ask you something.”
Victoria settled in the middle of the sofa, spreading the full skirt around her as if it were an ante-bellum gown and she was Scarlett entertaining at Tara. “Yes, ma’am. What would you like to know?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute. But first, I need to get your permission to take a DNA sample from Freddy.”
“DNA?” she asked, her eyes widening, the fingers of her left hand flying to her throat.
“It’s really simple, ma’am. We take what looks like a giant Q-tip and rub it on the inside of his cheek.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why do you need to do this?”
“We need to confirm the identity of Freddy’s father.”
“Are you referring to the dead man in his house?” Victoria asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s not his father,” Victoria said with a shake of her head.
Lucinda decided to pursue that line of questioning later. Right now, she simply wanted permission to get a sample before the tech came through the door. “Fine, Ms. Whitehead. That is important information. We simply need to confirm it with a DNA test.”
“I suppose that could be useful,” Victoria conceded. “If you are sure it won’t hurt Frederick, then that will be fine.”
Lucinda pulled the release form out of a pocket, unfolding and smoothing it on the coffee table. “Won’t hurt at all, ma’am. Thank you so much for your cooperation,” she said, handing the woman a pen.
As Victoria touched the paper with the nib of the pen, the doorbell rang. Lucinda bounced to her feet. “I’ll get that, ma’am. It’s just the technician who’s come to get Freddy’s sample. You go ahead and sign that and we’ll put her to work.”
Opening the door, Lucinda nodded and said, “She’s signing right now. Colter, would you please take Spellman down to the boy.”
As they walked by, Victoria came to her feet. “Shouldn’t I go with them?”
“No need,” Lucinda said, scooping up the document from the coffee table. “I”d really like to speak to you alone for a moment.”
Victoria looked at Lucinda; cast her eyes toward the retreating backs of the other two women. “I don’t know.”
“Please have a seat, Ms. Whitehead.”
Biting her lower lip, Victoria eased herself back on to the sofa, arranged her skirt, folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head to the side. “Yes?”
“Your grandson?”
“Yes?”
“You call him Frederick?”
“That is his name,” Victoria said.
“I understand your daughter called him ‘Freddy’?”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “I am afraid so. That wasn’t the only thing I didn’t approve of.”
“What else, Ms. Whitehead?”
Victoria closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want to go into that. It is personal – between me and my daughter.”
Lucinda bit back a retort, letting her response rest for a moment. “Do you think the deceased male in your daughter’s house is not her husband?”
“Oh, no, it’s not a matter of what I think. I’m certain he is not. Her husband killed them both. I tried to warn my daughter.”
“Really? Why is that, Ms. Whitehead? Was your daughter having an affair with the deceased man?”
“Absolutely not. No daughter of mine would ever – no, ma’am. I can’t believe you even suggested that.”
“Forgive me if I gave you cause for offense, Ms. Whitehead. I am simply trying to understand. You said that your daughter and a man were found deceased in the same bedroom suite, killed by your son-in-law, but there was nothing going on between your daughter and that man.”
&
nbsp; “Well, I sincerely doubt that Jeanine even knew that poor man.”
“Help me, ma’am. I’m struggling to put this information together in a way that makes sense to me. You are saying your daughter and a man are killed in her bedroom and they don’t know each other.”
“I’m pretty sure of that. Parker wouldn’t want to make it easy to identify the man so he wouldn’t kill someone connected to the family. He would want everyone to assume it was him.”
Lucinda waited to see if she would say anything more without prompting. I know the head and hands are missing but she doesn’t – or rather, she shouldn’t.
“You did make that assumption, didn’t you?” Victoria asked.
“Ms. Whitehead, what are you saying about your son-in-law?”
“He’s still alive.”
Lucinda stared hard at Victoria, willing her to continue talking. Instead, without saying a word, Victoria turned her head away, casting her glance down to the floor.
“Ms. Whitehead, why do you think your son-in-law is still alive?”
Victoria turned toward her, and then turned away. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I find it very difficult to look at you. I know that’s rude but – I’m sorry.”
Lucinda wanted to jump up, grab her by both the shoulders and shake her hard. Instead, she said, “That is understandable. You don’t have to look at me. But I do need you to answer my questions.”
Victoria rubbed the back of her neck, raised her chin and turned her face toward the window next to the fireplace, her focus on the yard beyond the glass. “Certainly.”
“You think your son-in-law is alive?” Lucinda asked again.
Victoria turned her glance toward the hallway when she heard the sound of an opening door. Marguerite and Robin stopped in the archway of the living room. “Got it, Lieutenant. You need anything else?” Marguerite asked.
“No, thank you, Spellman. I’ll see you back at the scene. Colter, could you go downstairs with Freddy? I’m not quite through talking to his grandmother.”
As Robin turned away, Victoria said, “I should be there when the boy’s being questioned.”
“She’s just keeping him company, Ms. Whitehead.”
“Yeah.” Robin grinned. “He promised to teach me how to play ‘Punch Out’.”
“Well, Okay,” Victoria said.
“Ms. Whitehead, about your son-in-law?”
“Yes, yes. Of course, he’s alive. Frederick told me he explained that to you already.”
“Yes, ma’am, he did. But I’d like to hear it from you. He didn’t really give me a lot of detail.”
“I must admit the boy had a hard time understanding it, at first. He is bright but he is only thirteen. You still tend to accept the world at face value at that age. It is hard to accept that evil can come in very attractive packages.”
She’s not making any more sense than the boy. Maybe the whole family is whacked. “Could you start at the beginning?” Lucinda asked.
“Oh, dear, I’m not really sure where the beginning is. But I can start with when I first met Parker.”
“Fine. Go ahead, ma’am.”
“I didn’t like him. And let me tell you,” she said with a wag of her finger, “these are not the words of the motherin-law from h-e-double hockey-sticks. I was ready to accept my daughter’s choice of a life mate – more than ready, actually. And Parker was brilliant, competitive, and on the fast track to the top of the heap. After all, who am I to criticize? I’ve been married five times and now I’m living with a sixth man. I was ready. Yes, ma’am, I was ready.”
“You were ready, but …?”
“Oh, but – oh yes, oh yes. I was uncomfortable from the moment he stepped into the room,” she said, leaning forward. “His aura was black. Solid, pitch, black.” She leaned back in the sofa, folding her arms softly across her chest as she nodded. “Oh, my, yes. His aura was as black as the heart of Satan himself.”
Here comes the devil again. “Did you share this with your daughter?”
“Well, of course. But at the time, I didn’t know what I know now.” Her folded arms kept flying apart and coming back together as she spoke. “If I had known, I would have taken her away, out of the country, into an asylum – whatever it took. I knew his aura was bad, but I had no idea. I didn’t even know it was possible.”
“Didn’t know what was possible?”
Victoria leaned back again and spoke in a tone that made it clear she thought Lucinda asked a stupid question. “Didn’t know he was immortal, of course.”
“Be patient with me, Ms. Whitehead, and please explain why you think your son-in-law is immortal.”
“Because he sold his soul to the devil,” she said, laughing at Lucinda’s ignorance.
“And when did this happen?”
“Now, that I’m not sure of yet. Jason’s been doing the research. So far, we’ve tracked it back to 1845. But it could go further. It gets difficult following a trail that old.”
“Who is Jason?”
“My boyfriend. Jeanine didn’t approve. He is a bit younger than me,” she said as a blush penetrated through the thick layer of cosmetics on her face.
“And what did he track back to 1845?”
“Parker Sterling, of course. Naturally, he’s used other names. Many other names. Sometimes he simply disappeared and turned up in a distant location with a new life and a new identity. Other times, he faked his death by sinking a ship or seeming to get lost in an avalanche. But on other occasions, like this one, he faked his death by substituting the body of someone he murdered. And this time, he killed his wife – my daughter. This time, he went too far.”
“And you are convinced of this, Ms. Whitehead?” Lucinda said, trying hard to keep her incredulity out of her voice and off of her face.
“Most certainly, Lieutenant. After all, my boyfriend is Parker Sterling’s son, too.”
An image of this woman in a passionate embrace with a teenage boy flashed through her thoughts, making her stomach churn. “Your boyfriend Jason is your grandson’s age?”
Victoria gasped and then tittered. “Oh, Lieutenant. Oh, Lieutenant, I should be appalled but I can’t help but laugh.” She giggled. “Oh, my, my. What a dreadful vision you must’ve formed in your head. Jason and Frederick don’t have the same mother. They’re both Parker’s sons but only Frederick is my daughter’s child. Oh, my, that would be absolutely outrageous, wouldn’t it?”
Lucinda squirmed at her reaction. “But with the same father, Jason and Freddy would be close to the same age?”
Victoria glanced at Lucinda and jerked her eyes away. “I really wish you wouldn’t call him Freddy.”
“Ma’am, please, how old is your boyfriend?” Lucinda asked, pressing down her impatience.
Victoria chuckled, her eyes twinkled. “Why, he’s old enough to be Frederick’s father. Which means, Jason is young enough, I suppose, to be my son, but once you’re out of your thirties, the age difference doesn’t matter quite so much, does it?”
“So, Jason, is …?”
“In his forties.”
“And your grandson is thirteen, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And you think they have the same father?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure of it. Different names but the same man.”
“Different names?”
“Yes. When Jason was born Parker went by the name Samuel Houston King.”
“Where is Jason right now?”
“He’s in Texas. Visiting his mother.”
“How long has he been there?”
“His flight left, I believe,” she looked at her wrist watch, “about three hours ago. He should be in San Antonio by now, I think.”
“Today? He left town today?”
“Yes. Frederick was so disappointed. He really likes Jason. They love playing together on the Wii. It’s a nice way for the brothers to bond.”
Lucinda was certain she’d slipped into another dimension. No wonder Freddy
was acting so strangely. “I’ll need to speak with Jason, Ms. Whitehead. Could you give me his cell number – he did take it with him, didn’t he?”
“Well, yes, but I don’t know. I can’t see why Jason needs to be involved. And his mother is sickly.”
“Why don’t you get me his mother’s home address, too? I have to speak with Jason. Like you said, he’s done the research. He knows more than anyone about Parker Sterling, or Samuel King, or whoever he is.” Lucinda plastered what she hoped was a look of sincerity on her face.
“Oh, yes, of course. How silly of me. I’ll go get my address book.”
At that moment, a loud “whoop” echoed up from the basement, followed by footsteps pounding up the stairs. “I beat her,” Freddy crowed as he bounded into the living room. “I beat a police officer.”
Robin followed him, grinning and nodding. “He sure did. The kid gave me a righteous stomping.”
“Yeah,” Freddy said. “Righteous.”
“Congratulations, Freddy,” Lucinda said with a smile. She dreaded bringing him down to earth – away from games and back to reality. She crouched down, resting an elbow on each knee. “Hey, Freddy …”
The joy drained from his face as rapidly as floodwaters from a ruptured dam. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Did you think of anything else I need to know?”
“Not really, ma’am. But I don’t think I explained things too well.”
“That’s okay, Freddy. Your grandmother filled in the blanks. You still have my card?”
He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up as he smiled. “Sure do.”
“Good, you keep it safe and call me anytime. And congratulations again; Officer Colter needed someone to bring her down a peg.” Lucinda pushed down on her knees and rose to her full height.
Victoria returned with a piece of paper in her hand containing the address and phone number for Karen King, as well as Jason’s cellphone number. “Just remember, when you speak to Frederick’s brother, his mother is sickly.”
Lucinda jerked her head over to Freddy. She saw no indication that his grandmother’s mention of his brother surprised or bothered him in any way. It seemed as if the boy believed Jason was his brother.
Mistaken Identity (A Lucinda Pierce Mystery) Page 3