Mistaken Identity (A Lucinda Pierce Mystery)

by Fanning, Diane

  “Please don’t distress her,” Victoria said as she handed the address to Lucinda.

  Lucinda and Robin walked out of the house and stopped by Robin’s patrol car. “So what’s running through your head?” Lucinda asked.

  “Something’s off. Something’s odd.”

  “Yeah, odd’s a good word.”

  “Does Freddy really have a brother?” Robin asked.

  “The grandmother says so – a half-brother anyway. His name is Jason.” Lucinda looked down at the address in her hand. “Jason King, I believe.”

  “Which parent do they share?”

  “The father, she said.”

  “How old is Freddy’s brother?”

  “In his forties, she said.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, about thirty years’ difference in their ages. I imagine it is biologically possible but it sure doesn’t sound probable to me.”

  “You believe her?” Robin asked.

  “No, but Freddy does.”

  Seven

  Returning to the Sterling home, Lucinda donned booties and latex gloves before crossing the threshold. She went up the stairs to the bedroom. The bed was stripped of its linens. Rectangular holes scarred the surface of the mattress.

  Marguerite emerged from the bathroom and smiled at Lucinda. “Glad you’re back. I’ve got something to show you.”

  Lucinda pointed to the bed. “Blood on the mattress?”

  “Nah, but we did find some body fluids and took them for testing.”

  “Good. If someone other than Jeanine and Parker Sterling were in that bed, we need to know.”

  “My thinking exactly. I found two bullets in the bathroom. Wanna see?”

  “Excellent,” Lucinda said, following Marguerite into the adjoining bath.

  Marguerite pointed to a spot on the wall and both women leaned toward it, their noses just a hair’s breadth from the surface. “Thirty-eight?” Lucinda asked.

  “That’d be my guess. The ballistics labs will let us know for sure.”

  “Where’s the other one?”

  Marguerite led her into a luxurious, large shower. A broad rain shower head pointed down from the ceiling. Four water jets pointed at each other from opposite walls. “Right here.”

  Lucinda looked at the cracked slate tile. “You got a flashlight?”

  Marguerite pulled one from her tool belt and handed it to the detective. Lucinda studied the bullet. “Looks like the same caliber.”

  “Yeah. But not the same victim.”

  “You sure of that?”

  “I did a quick blood typing test around each bullet. Type A in the shower, type O on the wall.”

  “Nice, Spellman. Very nice. If we could only find the head, we could get trajectory and have a shot at recreating the scene.”

  “We haven’t found it in the house.”

  “I doubt if it’s anywhere near here. But, I’ve got a cadaver dog coming over to check the grounds, just in case. Any sign of a gun in the house?”

  “Not yet. No gun. No ammunition. But we’re still going through the house,” Marguerite said. “They all know to alert me if they find a gun, a head, hands or anything else of interest.”

  “Thanks, Spellman.”

  “Lieutenant, there’s one thing that’s bothering me.”

  “What’s that, Spellman?”

  “There are two adults in this house. Two cars in the garage. But we’ve only been able to find one ring of keys. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Any theories?”

  “Got me, Lieutenant, it’s just odd. We’ll keep looking. They might still show up somewhere.”

  “Let me know if they do.” Lucinda went downstairs and went from room to room observing the techs at work. Pleased with their thoroughness, she was, nonetheless, impatient for them to finish and get out of the house. She wanted to spend some time here alone.

  That would have to come later. For now, her priority was the nine-one-one caller, Pamela Godfrey. She climbed into her car for the drive downtown. On the way there, she called Ted. “Did you find a connection between Godfrey and the Sterlings?”

  “I sure did. Parker Sterling is the founder and former CEO of Dodgebird.”

  “Dodgebird?”

  “A computer software company. They were bought out by Microsoft last year but in the negotiations, Sterling secured the vice-presidency of the Dodgebird division and he still manages the facility. Dodgebird’s legal representation is handled by Drummond-Godfrey.”

  “Aah … and?”

  “A couple of years before the Microsoft acquisition, Sterling and Godfrey spent a lot of time together. Remember that child porn ring the FBI busted up?”

  “Yeah. How can I forget a swarm of those vainglorious jerks?”

  “Oh, did you and your Special Agent have a fight?”

  “Don’t start with me, Ted.”

  “Well, I thought …”

  “Ted, I just pulled up to a meter downtown, so drop it or I’ll throw Ellen in your face.”

  ‘Okay. Never mind. Anyway, one of the folks arrested was the sales manager at Dodgebird. Pamela Godfrey personally handled the media flak and public relations damage control for that.”

  “Anything else before I tackle Godfrey?”

  “Just a little scuttlebutt that might prove useful. It seems Ms. Godfrey has a reputation for mixing business with pleasure.”

  “An affair with Sterling?” Lucinda asked.

  “I haven’t heard anything that specific – just a general rumor that she has a tendency to climb into bed with her clients.”

  “Lovely,” Lucinda said. “Thanks, Ted. I’ll call back when I finish with Godfrey.”

  Lucinda strode into the high-rise, checked the board for an office number, stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. When the doors opened, she saw that there were just two offices on that level – straight ahead of her were the oversized double glass doors leading to the law offices of Drummond-Godfrey. Beyond the doors and past the receptionist, the panorama of the city filled the far glass wall. To her right, an apparently smaller space with a single door was marked “Pamela Godfrey Management.”

  She entered and approached the front desk. “Pamela Godfrey, please.”

  A cute and perky dark-haired young woman smiled and asked, “Do you have an appointment?”

  Lucinda hated that question. It always spoke of a sense of superiority and a spirit of exclusion. She pulled out her badge and held it close to the woman’s face. “This is all the appointment I need. Tell Ms. Godfrey I’m here.”

  The receptionist’s face turned beet red and her jaw moved without making a sound. She picked up a receiver and spun around in her chair, turning her back to Lucinda. She whispered into the phone, pivoted back and hung up the receiver. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It just isn’t convenient for Ms. Godfrey to speak with you at this time. Umm …”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry. But she told me to tell you that y’all ate up enough of her time today already.”

  “Fine,” Lucinda said and walked toward the hallway that led to the offices.

  The flustered receptionist jumped up and blocked her path. “I’m sorry. But I can’t let you go back there.”

  Lucinda looked down on her – at five feet eleven inches and wearing three-inch heels, she made the petite woman standing in front of her look like a small child. “Really?” she said. She placed a hand on both of the woman’s upper arms and gently moved her out of the way. She strode down the hall to the door bearing Pamela’s name and threw it open.

  Pamela bolted up out of her high-backed office chair. Anger curled her lips into a sneer. In the chairs opposite her desk, two dark-suited men bounced to their feet, with widened eyes.

  “How dare you?” Pamela said.

  Lucinda smiled at the visitors in the room, pulled out her badge and flashed it first in their direction and then at Pamela.

  One of the men said,
“We were just leaving.”

  “No, you were not,” Pamela snapped.

  “Hey, Pamela, we can come back,” the other man said.

  “Sit.” When they didn’t respond immediately, she said, “Now!” They slid back down but their bodies remained tensed, ready for flight. She turned to Lucinda. “You’ll need to make an appointment with the receptionist. Right now, as you see, I am occupied.”

  “Okay. If that’s your attitude, fine,” Lucinda said pulling a pair of cuffs out of the waistband at the back of her skirt. “We can go over to headquarters, if that’s the way you want to play it.”

  The two women stared at each other across Pamela’s desk. Pamela looked away first. Seeing the receptionist standing in the doorway wringing her hands, she said, “Jennifer, would you please escort the officer down to the conference room?” Turning back to Lucinda she plastered a sour smile on her face. “Just give me a minute, please. I’ll be right with you.”

  Lucinda continued to stare for a few more seconds before turning and following Jennifer. She understood that power play. We made Godfrey wait in an empty room. Now she’s going to return the favor. That’s okay. Once she thinks she’s put me in my place, her cockiness will make it easier to catch her off guard and corner her in a contradiction.

  Lucinda barely heard the stuttered apologies of Godfrey’s embarrassed employee. Her thoughts had already moved forward, forming a strategy. The challenge of the upcoming interview made Lucinda smile.

  Eight

  The vibrations of the phone in her pocket pulled Lucinda’s thoughts away from Pamela Godfrey. Grabbing hold of the cell, she groaned when she saw the caller ID – Rambo Burns. She disconnected the call. She wished he’d leave her alone. He’d been calling her number and the office incessantly for the past ten days. She had no desire to talk with him – no desire for another round of reconstructive surgery. Not now. Maybe not ever. She ran her fingers over her lips, from the soft, full side to the thin, hard side. He was supposed to eliminate scarring, not add to it.

  She felt the buzz of her cell again. Her first thought was to ignore it but she decided it was too soon for Burns to call her again and slipped a hand into her pocket. This time the ID read “Spencer office”. Considering the timing, she felt certain that Spencer was calling for Burns. But she had doubts. What if it’s about Charley? What if something happened to Charley?

  She answered the call, “Pierce.”

  “Lucinda, it’s Evan Spencer.”

  “Yes. Is Charley okay?”

  “Charley? Oh, yes, of course. I’m not calling about Charley. I’m calling for Rambo …”

  “I’m hanging up now, Evan.”

  “Please, Lucinda. Rambo just wants to talk to you.”

  “Evan, I care about Charley. I’m always happy to talk to you about her – your daughter is very important to me. But I’m not going to talk to you about Dr. Burns. And I have nothing to say to him at all.”

  “Lucinda, please. He’s not going to force you into anything. He just wants to talk.”

  “Does Dr. Burns take this much interest in all of his patients?”

  “You know Rambo and I are good friends. He has taken a special interest in you because of our relationship.”

  Our relationship? Dammit, Evan! “You mean because of my relationship with Charley?”

  “Well, that, too,” Evan conceded.

  Lucinda bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue. Why does he assume I care about him because I care about Charley? Why does he read so much into my interest in his daughter? Why doesn’t he just grieve the loss of his wife and stop grabbing for me as if I was born to be his crutch? “Doctor Spencer …”

  “Aw c’mon, Lucinda. When you start calling me Doctor Spencer …”

  “Okay, Evan. But don’t mention Dr. Burns unless I bring him up first.”

  “Okay. But he just wants to talk.”

  “Goodbye, Doctor Spencer,” she said and hit the disconnect button before he could utter another word.

  Lucinda had just enough time to refocus her mind on Pamela Godfrey before the door flew open and the woman strode into the room, clutching a cup of coffee in one hand. She stopped directly in front of Lucinda, slammed the mug down and placed her hands on hips with elbows jutting from her sides. She was an intimidating figure in an expensive suit and sporting an air of haughty indifference.

  Lucinda rose to her full height and mirrored Pamela’s stance – the four-inch advantage in height made it clear that Lucinda had the upper hand in this battle of wills. Pamela recognized and confirmed it. “Perhaps we should both have a seat.”

  They both stood for a moment longer, neither one willing to make the first move. Slowly, as if their movements were choreographed in unison, their knees bent and they lowered themselves to chairs on opposite sides of the conference table without losing eye contact for a second. “I’ve told the officers all I know. I’m sure you’ll find that in a report somewhere,” Pamela said.

  Sliding a compact digital recorder out of her oversized shoulder bag and on to the surface between them, Lucinda said, “I’d like to hear it in your own words and preserve it on audio, if you don’t mind.”

  “Actually, I do. It is a waste of my time to keep repeating the same story again and again.”

  Lucinda placed her hands on the table and laced her fingers together. She cleared her throat. “There are two people dead, Ms. Godfrey. I would think, on balance, their deaths are more important than polishing the image of another corporate jackass.”

  “Lieutenant, I resent that depiction of my clients.”

  “Fine,” Lucinda said through clenched teeth. “You are entitled to your feelings. And I am entitled to hear a recounting of the events of your morning. Please start with when you arrived at the parking garage.”

  “This is really tiresome,” Pamela complained.

  Lucinda smiled, causing Pamela to flinch. She felt a spark of triumph, realizing that Pamela had worked hard not to show any reaction to the detective’s face but she couldn’t help that involuntary twitch at the off-kilter grin.

  After a minute of silence, Pamela began. “I arrived at the garage shortly before ten a.m.”

  Lucinda interrupted. “Did you have a preset appointment?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I received a call from a client as soon as I entered the office this morning. He was panicking about the public relations plan for his company and wanted to discuss possible repercussions. I told him I’d be there right away.”

  “You had a lengthy discussion, then?”

  “Not exactly. I had a lengthy wait. And then I was dismissed.” Pamela’s clenched jaw throbbed.

  “Really? Does that happen often with your clients?”

  “No. Absolutely not. In fact, because of his rudeness, his company might not be a client of my firm much longer.”

  “Do you think your sexual entanglement with your client might have caused his rude behavior?”

  Pamela slapped her hands down on the table and pushed to her feet. “How dare you!”

  “Who lives at 6423 James Landing Drive, Ms. Godfrey?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Thought you might have bedded the homeowner at some point.”

  “This is outrageous!”

  “No, Ms. Godfrey,” Lucinda said as she rose to her feet. “What is outrageous is your pretense that you don’t know who lives there and you don’t know what happened there. One of your clients is dead, Ms. Godfrey. I would expect that you would show some sign of concern about that fact – on a financial level, if nothing else.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, Ms. Godfrey. We went to the address you gave us and found one of your clients dead.”

  “Dead?” Pamela said, sliding down into the chair. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she stared at the top of the table. Raising her head, she asked, “Who?”

  Lucinda arched an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that you don’t know?”


  Pamela bowed her head. “No. Yes. I – I – I mean …”

  Lucinda sat back down, slouched in the seat, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair and bringing a hand to her face. She curled three fingers and her thumb around her chin. Her index finger lay flat across her check as she observed the woman struggle for words.

  Pamela raised her eyes again. “Who, Lieutenant?”

  Lucinda held her gaze for a full minute before she said, “Parker Sterling.”

  “What?”

  “Dodgebird, remember?”

  “Of course I remember. But Parker? Someone killed Parker?”

  “And his wife.”

  “His wife, too? Who – who killed them?”

  “That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you.”

  “Me? I don’t know. I have no idea of anyone who’d want Parker – or his wife – anyone who’d want them – them – dead.”

  “Really? Were you having an affair with Parker Sterling?”

  “That is an outrageous allegation!” Pamela said, rising to her feet again. “Absolutely outrageous!”

  “Oh, sorry. Were you having an affair with Jeanine Parker?”

  “That’s it. That’s it. I have had enough. I was not having an affair with Sterling or his wife. Any more questions, you can talk to my attorney. I’m done.” Pamela threw out her arm, gesturing to the door.

  Lucinda looked at Pamela’s coffee cup on the table. She really wanted it. She wanted Pamela’s DNA. She couldn’t use it in court if she swiped it, even if she did have a match with something in the Sterling home. But still, she wanted it. She wanted the advantage that information would provide. She intentionally left her recorder on the table as she left the room.

  When they reached the reception area, Pamela said, “Good day, Lieutenant,” turned and walked back into her office, shutting the door behind her with a decisive click.

  Lucinda walked to the office exit and stopped. “Oh, my,” she said and walked back to the reception desk. She leaned over the counter and whispered to Jennifer, who was in the middle of a phone call, “Sorry, I left something back in the conference room. I’ll just be a sec.”