The Trophy Exchange (A Lucinda Pierce Mystery)

by Fanning, Diane

  “It was hard to spit it out the first time. But here’s the abbreviated version: I think we’d be great together.”

  “Working together?”

  “No, dammit. You. Me. Us. A couple. Riding into the sunset hand in hand.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes, I think we were made to be together and just derailed after high school.”

  “Ted, you’re married.”

  “Well, like I said when you weren’t paying attention, that will take a little time to resolve but we have the whole future ahead of us.”

  “Resolve your marriage?”

  “Yeah. Sort of. Resolve my divorce would probably be a more accurate way to put it.”

  “Is this why you don’t want to go to marriage counseling?”

  “Why waste time beating a dead horse?”

  “Because you and Ellen had two children together. And you lost a child together.”

  “Are you saying I should stay in a miserable marriage for the sake of the kids?” Ted said turning to face her.

  “Keep your eyes on the road, Ted. No. I’m not saying that. I’m saying you owe it to the kids to make an attempt to repair your broken bond with Ellen. But most of all, you owe it to Ellen.”

  “Ellen? I can’t remember the last happy moment – or even a pleasant moment I’ve had with her. For some time now, you’ve been the only woman to quicken my heart.”

  “But you did have good times, Ted. You were happily married for years.”

  “We were once upon a time,” he admitted.

  “And when did that end, Ted?”

  “When the baby died, I guess.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly, what?”

  “That’s exactly why you owe Ellen. You can’t walk out on her while she’s still reeling in grief. Particularly not now that she’s finally willing to get professional help. You have to help her get back on her feet. You owe her that much. And if you won’t honor that debt, I don’t think I know you, Ted. I don’t know if I can even consider you as a friend.”

  Ted’s shoulders slumped and his defensiveness fled. He hung his head lost in thought for a mile or two. “Okay, I can accept that. But all this time you and I have spent together on this case stirred up the feelings I had for you before – before I met Ellen. The worst mistake of my life was letting go of you in the first place. If I hadn’t been such a horny toad when I was eighteen, I could have done my part to keep our relationship alive even from a long distance. Or I could have transferred to your school. I should’ve done anything I could do to hang on to you for dear life.”

  “Should’ves and could’ves will drive you crazy, Ted.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk, Lucinda. A few miles ago, you were drowning in should’ves and could’ves over the shooting.”

  “I know. You’re right. It’s easier to say it than live it.”

  “So what then, Lucinda? If I help Ellen pick up the pieces and discover the love is still gone. What then? Will you be there for me?”

  “I can’t promise you that, Ted.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not a good time.”

  “Oh, I get it. It’s Dr Spencer.”

  Lucinda grimaced. “What are you talking about?”

  “Dr Evan Spencer. Good looking. Lots of money. Respected widower. What more could a woman ask for. He’d be good for you.” Ted exhaled loudly.

  “Good imagination, Ted. Even if I were interested in Evan Spencer, I’m sure he has no interest in me. I imagine him with a cute, young, little trophy wife that can deliver a couple more kids.”

  “You’re wrong, Lucinda. I saw how he looked at you, how he hugged you, how he kissed you.”

  “Bullshit, Ted. All you saw was an overwrought expression of gratitude.”

  “Bullshit back at you, Lucinda. Sure he’s grateful you saved his daughter’s life but his feelings for you go beyond that. I’m a man, too. I know what I saw.”

  “Okay, Ted. Let me put it plainly. Not making a commitment to you has nothing to do with Spencer.” She sketched an ‘x’ on her chest with her index finger. “Cross my heart.”

  “Then what is it about, Lucinda? Does the thought of life with me make your skin crawl?”

  “It’s not about you, either, Ted. It’s about me. I’m not ready to make a commitment to anyone. I can barely take care of my cat on my own. And then there’s my face . . .”

  “That is irrelevant to me.”

  “And that’s great, Ted. I honestly appreciate that. But it does matter to me. It’s not like I’m fretting about the loss of my looks but lately I’ve been wondering about why I’ve done nothing to improve them. Why do I insist on hiding behind this grotesque mask – scaring little kids, shocking adults, living as if Halloween was a lifestyle? My inaction is a symptom of an underlying problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “I don’t know and that’s part of the problem I have to figure out. I’m screwed up, Ted, and I need to deal with that before I even think about inviting anyone special into my life. And when I get myself in shape, who knows? I might discover I should be alone. That I should grow old with Chester and forget about any so-called meaningful relationship. Right now I just don’t know.”

  “I think you’re chicken. I think you’re afraid of commitment.”

  “Chicken? Maybe. But I’ve got to figure that out by myself. Right now, a relationship would only enable me to continue to avoid addressing my problems. I need to face them, Ted, and as soon as my suspension starts, I’ll do just that.”

  Seventy-Two

  For three months, Lucinda lived a cloistered life. It only took a couple of weeks to wrap up the shooting inquiry with a conclusion of justified homicide. With that out of the way, Lucinda took additional leave from the job. She used the excuse of the shooting when she made her request but it was far more complex than that.

  She shared turkey with Chester on Thanksgiving Day and watched him shred the wrapping around a new catnip mouse on Christmas morning. She left the house only to see her doctor or go to the hospital. She arranged all her grocery visits around her medical appointments and got in and out of the store as quickly as possible.

  She discouraged those who called inquiring about her welfare. She reached out to no one but Charley. Every week, she sent her a funny greeting card with a short note that revealed no real news.

  It took some time for her to come to an understanding that her refusal to embark on any reconstructive surgery was nothing more than an infliction of punishment – a self-imposed flagellation to ease her survival guilt – and it wasn’t working. With that knowledge and her acceptance of it, she embarked on a path of forgiveness, banishing the tattered remnants of guilt she bore for not rescuing her mother.

  After a few consultations with the hand-picked referrals made by Evan Spencer, she opted to begin the process with ophthalmic reconstructive surgery. She’d worn the black patch like a scarlet letter for more than two years. Now it was time for it to go.

  Dr. Rambo Burns – what in heaven’s name were his parents thinking when they saddled him with that moniker? – reconstructed her eyelid, repaired the orbital fractures and implanted a custom-made ocular prosthesis. She was ready to return to the real world. Her first day to report back to work was Monday morning.

  On a sunny but chilly Saturday afternoon, she set out to make her first social call since her self-imposed exile. On the way to the Spencer home, she stopped by the station and picked up a piece of evidence – the last loose end in the complete picture of Kirk Spencer’s warped chain of murderous rage.

  She pulled open the gate leading to the Spencer’s front yard. The second she heard its creak, tingles of apprehension like a jolt of electricity raced through her limbs leaving her weak in the knees. As she walked the length of the sidewalk and up the steps to the porch, images flashed like a manic slide show in her head. Ruby running out of the house. Click. Her quick ascent up the stairs to the second floor. Click. The bo
dy of Charley with a rope around her neck. Click. The confrontation with Kirk. Click. Her finger squeezing the trigger. Click. The bloody crater in Kirk’s forehead. Click. Breathing life into Charley. Click. The dead body of Kirk on the floor. Click.

  She pressed a trembling finger on the doorbell. She heard its ring echoing in the house and the still shots in her mind faded away. If this house has this much impact on me, how can they continue to live here?

  “Lieutenant! How wonderful to see you again.” Evan greeted her with a smile. “We’ve been thinking and talking about you a lot.” Then he noticed that she still sported the black eyepatch. “I thought you’d seen Dr. Burns?”

  “Oh, the patch? I’m only wearing it to surprise Charley,” she said flipping it up to display her reconstructed eye.

  “Looks like old Rambo did a good job. Charley’s not here now,” he said looking down at his watch. “But I expect her back from a friend’s birthday party any minute. Come in, come in, I really would like to get a better look at your eye, if you don’t mind.”

  In the hallway, he looked the eye over so intently, Lucinda began to squirm with discomfort.

  “Fantastic job. Rambo outdid himself this time. Are you pleased with the results?”

  “Very. Thank you. The department was very pleased with the bill – or lack of one Thanks again, Doctor.”

  “What’s next?”

  “Step two is the lip reconstruction. Then we move on with the facial scar revision. It’s amazing the terms I’ve added to my vocabulary.”

  “When are you scheduled for the next procedure?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh, come on, Lieutenant. The procedures on your eye went so well. Don’t tell me you’re going to stop now?”

  “I’m not stopping. I just need a break for a while. I need to get my life back to its normal routine.” She didn’t know when she’d be ready to take the next step and she didn’t want to argue about it. She changed the subject. “Is Ruby here?”

  “Yes, she’s here. But she’s upstairs taking a nap. You’re stuck with me for company. Let’s have a seat while we wait for one of the girls to join us.”

  Lucinda settled into a loveseat and Evan into an adjacent chair. “How are the girls doing?” Lucinda asked.

  “Much better than I would have thought. I’m very pleased. Both of them have been seeing a child psychologist and it’s done them a world of good. I was a bit of an ass about that when my mother suggested counseling right after Kathleen’s death. I still carried hostility toward the mental health profession for their inability to help Kirk when we were kids.”

  While he talked, Lucinda’s gaze traveled around the room where she spotted framed photographs of Kathleen scattered on the mantelpiece and on tables. “The past sure has a way of dragging at our heels. But it looks as if you’ve put some of your demons to rest, Doctor. You’ve unpacked the pictures of Kathleen.”

  “To be honest, I couldn’t have done it on my own. I’ve had some counseling, too. I realized I wasn’t doing myself or the girls any favors by hiding those away as if Kate never existed. But I’ll be packing them all up soon.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “We’re moving. I bought one of the lofts down in that area of riverside development. Ours is in an old warehouse with a great view of the James River. The architect worked with us to design the perfect space. She was so patient with the girls. The renovation is underway and it should be move-in ready about the same time Charley finishes up the school year. The three of us can make a fresh start in a new place and away from the bad memories of what happened in our home. Much as I love this old house, its time to bid it goodbye.”

  “The last few months must have been rough.”

  “A bit. But Charley’s psychologist didn’t think a mid-year school change would be a good idea. Both of the girls still see Kirk in their old bedrooms and neither one wants to sleep alone. So my master bedroom looks like a barracks. I moved both of the girls’ beds in there. Their counselors are working with them and getting them excited about having their own rooms in our new home. Participating in the design with the architect helped a lot.”

  “Before either of the girls shows up, can I take you back into the past for just a moment, Doctor? There’s something I want to ask you about.”

  “Sure. Anything you need, Lieutenant. Ask away.”

  Lucinda pulled out a clear plastic bag plastered with a bright red, initialed evidence sticker and held it up. “Does this look familiar to you?”

  Evan looked at the tiny links of the gold chain that held a small black pendant with its hand-painted pink rose. “Oh, my. That looks like a necklace my mother wore. Where did you find it?”

  “It was recovered from Kirk’s pocket during the autopsy.”

  Evan blanched. “He brought it here? If he killed one of my girls, he would have left it on her?”

  “I think so.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Lieutenant, but I owe you a huge debt. Thank you for not allowing that to happen.”

  The front door flew open and Lucinda slid the bag into her pocket.

  Charley squealed, “Lucy!” and threw herself into Lucinda’s lap.

  “How are you doing, sweetheart? How was the party?”

  “Lucy, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. The party was fun ’cept for Kirsten. She’s not very nice, Lucy.”

  “What did she do, Charley?”

  “She called me an orphan. I told her I wasn’t no orphan. I had my daddy. Right, Daddy?”

  “Right, Charley.”

  “I have my Lucy, too. That’s almost as good as a mommy. And she has a gun,” Charley said.

  Lucinda winced at the mention of the gun but, at the same time, had to fight the tight lump forming in her throat caused by the sentiment expressed.

  “And then she said I was, too, an orphan,” Charley continued. “I told her she was stupid. I told her to look orphan up in a dictionary if she wasn’t too stupid to find it. Then she told me she was going to tell. And she did. She told Mrs. Phillips I called her stupid. And I got in trouble. But I don’t care. She is stupid.”

  “Stupid is not a very nice word,” Evan said.

  With a dismissive flick of her wrist, Charley said, “Oh, Daddy.”

  “I’ve got a surprise for you Charley,” Lucinda said.

  “What? What? What?” Charley asked bouncing on Lucinda’s lap.

  “Look under my eyepatch.”

  Charley lifted it up and gasped. She pulled the patch off Lucinda’s head with a whoop. “It’s beautiful, Lucy.”

  “Not bad, one of your dad’s doctor friends fixed it all up.”

  Charley put one little hand on each side of Lucinda’s face and turned it back and forth as she looked from the real eye to the prosthesis. “Lucy, your glass eye looks real. It looks just like the other one. Nobody will know. Honest.”

  “Thank you, Charley.”

  “Can I keep your patch?”

  Lucinda nodded.

  “Can I try it on?”

  “It’s yours now, Charley. Do what you want.”

  Charley pulled it over her head and tried to position it on one eye but it slipped down and hung around her neck. “Oh.”

  “Your dad can adjust that for you, Charley. Give me another hug. I need to move on before I wear out my welcome.”

  “Please don’t go, Lucy. Please. Stay for dinner.”

  “Charley, that’s very sweet of you but you really shouldn’t invite anyone for dinner without checking with your dad first.”

  Charley turned an exasperated look on Evan. “Daddy?”

  “I’d be delighted if you’d stay for dinner, Lieutenant.”

  “Well, then, Miss Charley, looks like you have a dinner guest. Thank you, Doctor.”

  “My pleasure, Lieutenant.”

  “Daddy, why do you call her that?”

  “Lieutenant? Because that’s who she is.”

  “But she’s Lucy. That’s what I cal
l her. You should call her that, too.”

  “Well, Charley, you see, I . . .” Evan stammered. “That’s just not something I can do without permission from Lieutenant Pierce.”

  “Ask her, Daddy.”

  Evan looked at Lucinda and smiled. “May I, Lieutenant?”

  No one has called me Lucy since my father did before he died. No one but Charley. It’s time to put that boogie man to bed, too. She looked down, saw the eagerness in Charley’s eyes and grinned. The intense attachment she felt to this child moistened her eye and blurred her vision. “If that what makes Charley happy, why not?”