Hank started up the truck and unwrapped the wax paper. He handed a half of the sandwich to Lucinda, saying, “I’m sorry, girl.”
“Don’t worry about it, Uncle Hank. We all have to do what we have to do.”
Lucinda saw the sour face of her Aunt Connie come into view as the woman labored up the front steps of the funeral chapel. A small pleasure rippled through her at the sight of Connie dragging an oxygen cylinder behind her. Then she was ashamed. Connie was an old woman now and deserved her sympathy, not her scorn. She opened her car door, vowing to be compassionate and respectful as she girded herself with the armor she needed to guard against the pain.
Eighteen
As Lucinda stepped into the foyer of the funeral home, she was greeted by a somber man in a dark suit. When he spoke to her, he didn’t flinch, turn away or appear alarmed. Lucinda was grateful for the training that taught him the only two acceptable emotions on the job – sorrow and empathy.
He escorted her to the sanctuary where Hank lay in his coffin. Lucinda stood on the edge of the room looking over the people gathered there to pay their respects. The farm families were easy to identify. The men acted as if their ties were nooses as they shifted their feet in seldom-worn dress shoes. The farm women were devoid of cosmetics except for an occasional slash of petal-soft pink across some of their lips. They appeared as if they’d be far more comfortable with a basket of eggs resting in the crook of their arms or a jam-smeared apron wrapped around their middles.
Lucinda was content to observe from a distance until Connie spotted her and spoke her name. The clusters of people turned as one to look her over. All bore signs of shock at seeing the pretty young woman they once knew standing before them with a half-scarred face.
In some of their eyes, she also saw repulsion – not at her looks but at her character. She knew these were the people who listened to and believed the filthy lies that Connie spread about her and Hank. Lucinda wanted to tell them all to go to hell, but instead she moved toward her aunt, propelled by something other than her own free will.
She placed her hands gently on Connie’s upper arms and, leaning down, placed a soft kiss on a withered check. Connie dug her fingers into Lucinda’s arms and pulled her closer. She hissed into her ear, “You shoulda worn widow’s weeds. It woulda covered up your ugly face and shown everyone the truth about your relationship with my husband.”
Lucinda swallowed hard, pulled back and said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Aunt Connie.”
Connie plastered on a plastic smile in perfect imitation of southern civility and loudly thanked Lucinda for coming. Lucinda kept her eye on the floor as she headed for a far wall, hoping to disappear on the sidelines. Before she reached it, a pair of suited arms stretched out to her. She looked up. “Ricky!”
After a smothering embrace, they stood back and looked at each other, smiling. “Thank you, Lucinda. Thank you for coming.”
At six feet five inches, he was one of the few men who towered over her, but to Lucinda he was still her baby brother. She reached up and brushed at the unruly hair that had fallen into his eyes, the same way she had done when he was a boy. His broad shoulders filled his jacket. He looked comfortable in his suit but she’d bet he’d rather be wearing a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. His smile reflected in his eyes, even though traces of tears clung to his long, dark lashes. “How are you, you big lug?”
“Pretty good now that my big sister’s here.”
Lucinda smiled, overjoyed at the sight of him after all these years. They were interrupted by a shout from Connie. “Ricky, Ricky, come here. I need you, please.”
Ricky shrugged. “Sorry. Got to see what she wants.”
Lucinda suspected she needed nothing. She simply wanted to tear Ricky away from her. She sighed as she watched him walk towards the old woman.
Over her shoulder, she heard another familiar voice. “Not everyone is overjoyed to see you, Lucinda,” her sister Maggie said.
“Didn’t expect they would be, Mags.”
“Don’t call me that. No one calls me that any more. It’s Maggie or Margaret. Or Mrs. Sutton, if you prefer.”
Music swelled in the room. Lucinda hadn’t noticed it playing in the background but now it filled the space, beckoning everyone to their seats. Ricky took Aunt Connie’s arm and led her to the front row. He sat down beside her and she clutched his hand. Lucinda slipped into a seat at the end of the back row.
Lucinda listened as the minister spoke of Hank’s reward in heaven and friends spoke of a good man lost. One joked about Hank terrifying the angels as he drove a plow up the streets paved with gold and planted it with corn. She could see how much they missed her uncle. She wanted to step to the front and talk about his kindness, patience and compassion, but she did not dare. The service ended with a prayer and the mourners drifted out to the parking lot to join the procession to the cemetery.
Lucinda headed toward her car but Maggie stopped her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get my car, Maggie.”
“You don’t need your car.”
“What are you telling me, Maggie?”
“Aunt Connie wants you in the family limousine. Actually, I don’t think she really wants you in there but she thinks it would look funny if you’re not.”
“I can drive myself over. I don’t need to go in the limo,” Lucinda said, putting her hands up in protest.
“Oh, yes, you do. Don’t be embarrassing this family again,” Maggie snapped.
Ricky stepped by her side, “C’mon, Lucinda. You can sit next to me.”
Lucinda’s knees stiffened but she forced them to function as she walked over to the long black car. She climbed inside and slid into the empty bench seat. Ricky followed and sat by her side.
“No, Ricky, please. I need you. Sit next to me and hold my hand,” Connie begged.
“In a minute, Aunt Connie,” Ricky said. “Let me catch up with my prodigal sister, first.”
Connie’s mouth folded into an unattractive pout but she didn’t argue the point. Ricky turned back to his sister. “Well, Lucinda, what’s new in the detective world?”
Maggie spun around in her seat next to the driver. “Ricky, how could you? That’s too morbid. The last thing we need to hear about right now are the dead bodies she messes with or the ones she shot dead.”
“Cut it out, Maggie.”
“Don’t you tell me what to do!” Maggie snapped.
Ricky opened his mouth to respond but Lucinda gave a quick shake of her head and he kept still. For five minutes, the only sound in the limo was the snap, snap, snap of Maggie chewing gum. The relentless noise made Lucinda want to scream. Maggie had to realize how annoying it was; Lucinda wanted to tell her to keep her damned mouth shut while she chewed, but she gritted her teeth and bided her time.
A tune jingled from Lucinda’s purse, announcing an incoming call. She grabbed the phone like a lifeline. “Pierce.”
“Hi, Lucy. This is Charley.”
“Don’t tell me Doctor Burns made you call me.”
“Rambo? Why? Are you giving him a hard time, Lucy?”
Lucinda changed the subject. “Why did you call, Charley?”
“I need help with fingerprints.”
“Fingerprints?”
“Yeah. I know I gotta do a science fair project when school begins and I thought I could get started now and it would be fun to collect fingerprints around my house and compare them to me and Ruby and my dad. But I don’t have the stuff and I’m not sure how to do it. I was kinda hoping you could help me.”
“I can do that. I’ll get the powder, a brush, lift-off tape and fingerprint cards and ink …”
“And show me how to use it?”
“Yes, I will.”
“While you’re here, could you touch something when I’m not looking, so I can see if I can find your print?”
“Sure.”
“Can you come over now?”
“I’m out of town, Charley.”
>
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Charlottesville.”
“How come?”
“I’m attending my Uncle Hank’s funeral.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Lucy. Pretend I just gave you a big hug. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“Will you call me when you get back and let me know when you can come over?”
“I’ll do it. See you soon.” Lucinda ended the call with a smile on her face. It vanished at the sound of her sister’s voice.
“You disgust me!” Maggie shouted. “How can you sit here on the way to lay Uncle Hank to rest and talk business?”
“I wasn’t …”
“Mags, cut it out,” Ricky objected.
“Shut up, Ricky, and don’t you ever call me that again. We all heard her talking about fingerprints. I can’t believe it. First she seduced poor Uncle Hank and betrayed Aunt Connie with her sluttish ways and you come to her defense – on today of all days.”
Connie’s pout relaxed into a Mona Lisa smile.
“Maggie, do you really believe that vicious lie is true?” Lucinda asked.
“Vicious lie? Don’t make me laugh. Aunt Connie told me what you’re like. I know the truth. You can deny it all you want but I’d think you’d at least have the decency to leave your nasty work behind to pay Uncle Hank a moment of respect.”
“Maggie, that call was not business.”
“You lying bitch!” Maggie shrieked.
Ricky jumped in again. “Mags, please. Even if it was business, what business is it of yours? This is not the appropriate place for this conversation.”
“You’re a pathetic excuse for a man, Ricky, if you’d come to that tramp’s defense.”
Lucinda squeezed Ricky’s hand and shook her head again. He suppressed the retort on his lips. Lucinda placed her hand over her mouth and looked out the window. When Maggie got no return fire, she snapped, “You both make me sick,” and swung around in her seat to face forward.
They travelled the rest of the way to the gravesite in silence. While words were spoken over Hank’s casket, Lucinda stood on the fringes of the gathering, hoping not to be noticed or acknowledged in any way. For the most part, she was left in peace.
Back in the limo, she kept her gaze out the window and spoke to no one, listening to Ricky talk to Connie about his favorite memories of Hank. It was a conversation she would’ve loved to join, but knew she didn’t dare.
In front of the funeral home, Lucinda embraced Ricky. “Goodbye, little brother. You ought to come down and see me sometime.”
“I’d like to, Lucinda, but I can’t just walk away from my milk cows and hope for the best. I’ll see if I can get someone to fill in for a couple of days after harvest. I’ll give you a call. I guess you’re not coming back to the house.”
“Do you have to ask?”
Ricky smiled. “Guess not. Have a safe drive back.”
“Thank you, Ricky. It was worth all the hassle to get to see you again.”
Lucinda took her longest strides as she headed to her car without looking back. She heard her Aunt Connie say, “Ricky, does she still know the way to the farm?”
She heard the low murmur of her brother’s voice followed by a grating shriek: “What do you mean, she’s not coming back to the house?”
Lucinda pulled out of the parking lot and turned left. The highway back home was to the right but she didn’t dare drive past Aunt Connie. She circled around the block and hit Interstate 64, pulled out her cellphone and called for updates on the Sterling case. Even a double homicide was a cheerful prospect after a couple of hours with her family.
Nineteen
As soon as Lucinda got her car up to speed, she pulled out her cell and stuck the Bluetooth in her ear. She made her first call to Ted.
He answered on the first ring. “Branson.”
“Did you find anything out about Jason King?”
“Lucinda?”
“Yeah, did you?”
“Well, gee, Lucinda, hello. How are you doing?”
“Can it, Ted. Answer my question.”
“Oh, I guess this means the funeral didn’t go so well.”
“It was a real blast, Ted. We stood around the hole in the ground, held hands and sang “Kum-Ba-Yah”. What about King?”
“Don’t know much. If the addresses we have are correct, he does not have a driver’s license here or in Texas. But there are a helluva lot of Jason Kings in both states. We’re still running them all down.”
“Anything else?”
“Robin Colter led a team on a canvas of Victoria Whitehead’s neighborhood. A lot of people said they knew King but when pressed for any details they all ended up saying that they didn’t really know him at all. I talked to a couple of law enforcement agencies in Texas but they’re all still digging through all the Jason Kings they have on file. I got one detective to go by and pay King’s mother a visit but no one appeared to be at home. He stuck one of his cards in the door with your name and cell number written on the back. Margueite Spellman has a tech combing through all the recovered evidence from the Sterling home looking for the missing key ring. So far, no luck.”
“What about the lab? Heard anything from there?”
“I called to get an update on their progress but Doctor Ringo’s out today.”
“So, Audrey’s not in. Where is she? When will she be back? Did you talk to anyone else?”
“You know how tight Ringo runs that office. The secretary was not at all forthcoming with information.”
“Did you press her?”
“Of course. But she’s more scared of Ringo than she is of me.”
“Jeez. Do you have anything for me?”
“Freddy Sterling called three or four times.”
“What did he want?”
“You. All he’d say when I asked was that he needed to talk to Lieutenant Pierce and he said you can’t return his call because he didn’t want his grandmother to know he was talking to you.”
“Okay, fine. Later,” she said as she disconnected the phone. She keyed in Jason King’s cellphone number and went to voicemail after four rings. She left a message for him to return her call. She had the same result with the phone at his mother’s home. The next call she made was to the forensics lab. “This is Lieutenant Pierce. Where is Audrey?”
“Dr. Ringo is not in today.”
“Fine. I need a report on lab results and I need it now.”
“You’ll need to talk to Doctor Ringo, Lieutenant. I am not trained nor authorized to convey that information.”
Lucinda knew that line had to have been scripted by Audrey. “Who am I talking to?”
“Laurie Johns.”
“Listen, Ms. Johns, I don’t want to cause you any problems but waiting for Audrey to get into the lab is not an option for me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now connect me to whoever is running the DNA analysis for the Sterling double homicide.”
“That would be Beth Ann Coynes, ma’am.”
“Well, put her on the line.”
“I can’t, ma’am. She’s …”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“She’s in court, ma’am. She’s testifying in another case, ma’am.”
Lucinda felt a momentary twinge of guilt hearing the quaver in the secretary’s voice, but she shrugged it off, knowing that working for Audrey meant Laurie was bullied on a daily basis. “Okay, fine. Would you please have her call my cell when she gets back in?” After giving the secretary the number and disconnecting the line, Lucinda wanted to scream in frustration. Instead, she floored the gas pedal, daring a state trooper to stop her. She didn’t ease up until the speedometer hit seventy-five. An hour later, the phone rang and Lucinda slowed down to the speed limit as she answered the call.
“Hello, Lieutenant, this is Beth Ann Coynes. Dr. Ringo is on medical leave. I talked to her at the hospital and she told me to
give you whatever you needed.”
“What’s wrong with Audrey? “
“I don’t know. All she would tell me is that you made her sick. I know that’s not true – not literally,” she said with a laugh. “But when it comes to her personal life, it’s as hard to get information from her as it is to squeeze honey from a lemon.”
“I hear ya. What have you got on the Sterling murders?”
“I’m pulling that together now. I just spent most of the day at court being badgered by a defense attorney. But I’m organizing all of our preliminary results and should have something for you shortly.”
“I’ll be back in town in about an hour. Will you still be there?”
“Yeah. Probably be here half the night. Come on in to the lab. I’ll be waiting for you. But don’t feel you need to rush, I’ll be here quite a while.”
Lucinda sped back up and barreled back to town. Although she didn”t need to hurry for Beth Ann”s sake, she felt an intense urge to make up for lost time. In the parking lot of the justice center, she opened the car door with one hand while pulling the keys out of the ignition with the other. Rather than wait for the elevator, she took the stairs, two at a time. As she burst through the double doors of the lab, a head popped out of a room down the hall.
“Lieutenant Pierce?”
“Yes. Are you Beth Ann Coynes?”
“Sure am, come on down and let me show you what I’ve got.”
By the time Lucinda got there, Beth Ann was already back to work, bent over tubes and Petri dishes on the bench. The lab tech’s long, dark blonde hair was clasped in a silver barrette at the nape of her neck. When Beth Ann turned toward her, her petite face and ready grin made her look no more than fifteen years old.
As if reading her mind, Beth Ann said, “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I do know what I’m doing. Despite appearances to the contrary, I’ve actually been doing forensic DNA analysis for nearly ten years.” She picked up a clipboard packed with paper and flipped through the sheets. “Okay. The first big question is the identity of the male victim, correct?”
Mistaken Identity (A Lucinda Pierce Mystery) Page 9
