The Trophy Exchange (26 page)

“
Lieutenant, I
’
ve little girl named Charley Spencer on the line who wants to talk to the police lady with
the
pirate patch. Don
’
t know why,
”
the voiced laughed,
“
but I thought of you right away.
”

“
Very funny. Put her through. Charley?
”

“
Yes. Is this my police lady?
”

“
Yes, Charley, this is Lieutenant Pierce. Just call me Lucinda.
”

“
Um, um, can I call you Lucy?
”

A lump formed in Lucinda
’
s throat. No one had called her Lucy since the night her mother died.
“
Sure, Charley, no problem. What
’
s up?
”

“
There
’
s this lady in my house.
”

“
A lady? Who is she, Charley?
”

“
She said she
’
s my Aunt Rita, but I don
’
t have an Aunt Rita.
”

“
You don
’
t?
”

“
No
,
I don
’
t have any aunts.
”

“
Are you at home now, Charley?
”

“
No, I
’
m at school. The office lady helped me call you.
”

“
That
’
s nice. You tell her I said thank you,
okay
?
”

“
O
kay
.
”

“
When did this lady come to your house, Charley?
”

“
I don
’
t know. She was there when I got up.
”

“
This morning?
”

“
Yes. She was wearing
M
ommy
’
s robe.
”

“
She was?
”

“
And her slippers.
”

“
Did that upset you, Charley?
”
Lucinda heard a sob on the other end of the line.
“
I
’
m sorry, Charley. I
’
ll go by your house and check her out,
okay
?
”

“
Thank
. . .”
Charley
’
s voice broke.

“
No problem, Charley. You go back to class and don
’
t worry about a thing.
”

“
Thank you, Lucy. Bye-bye.
”

“
Bye-bye, Charley.
”
Tears moistened Lucinda
’
s eye
as
she listened to the receiver on the other end terminate the call. She hung up and turned to Ted.
“
Well, that was interesting.
”

“
What?
”

“
That was Charley. She said there
’
s a strange woman in her house.
”

“
Really?
”

“
And this morning she was wearing Kathleen
’
s robe and slippers.
”

“
That doesn
’
t sound good.
”

“
No, it doesn
’
t. But it does add another dimension to the ugly picture in my mind.
”
Lucinda
’
s gut clenched as an image of Charley without a mother or father filled her with anger toward Evan Spencer.

Twenty-Nine

Ted and Lucinda drove over to the Spencer house to confront the woman claiming to be Aunt Rita. They got no response to the doorbell or to their hard knocking, They heard no sounds in the house and spotted no signs of anyone when they peered in the windows facing the porch.

“
Let
’
s head back downtown. We can come back here after school and talk to Kara,
”
Lucinda suggested.

As they climbed back into the car, Ted winced and groaned.

“
Hey, Ted, you need me to drop you off at your place so you can catch a little more sleep?
”

“
No
,
I
’
m fine.
”

“
You looking ragged and sound even worse.
”

“
You
’
d be stiff, too, Lucinda, if you
’d
slept in the back seat of your car.
”

“
The back
seat? Why the hell did you do that?
”

Ted gave Lucinda a rundown of his situation on the home front without mentioning any of Ellen
’
s concerns about Lucinda.

“
What happened before she threw your stuff out and changed the lock? Did you do or say something to upset her?
”

“
I don
’
t know, Lucinda,
”
he lied.

“
Are you screwing around on her, Ted?
”

“
No. Shut up, Lucinda.
”

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Lucinda pulled into the parking space by the door to the morgue.
“
Be patient with Ellen, Ted. It
’
s hard for a mother to lose a baby. It takes a long time for a lot of women to get back on their feet. It
’
ll get better in time.
”

“
I hope so,
”
Ted said but as he looked at Lucinda, he was no longer certain that he wanted his marriage to
mend
.

Lucinda and Ted returned to the station and went straight to the conference room. Within minutes, the phone buzzed. It was the front desk.
“
Pierce,
”
Lucinda said as she answered it.

“
I
’
ve got a woman down here by the name of Vivienne Carr who says she needs to talk to you about the Terry Wagner homicide.
”

“
Send her on up. I
’
ll meet her by the elevator.
”
As the doors opened, Lucinda stuck out her hand.
“
Hello,
Mrs.
Carr.
”

Vivienne Carr grabbed her hand in both of hers.
“
You can
’
t allow them to do this.
”

“
I can
’
t allow who to do what,
Mrs.
Carr?
”
Lucinda asked as she led Vivienne down the hall and into an interrogation room.

“
The DA. He
’s
charged my girl with first-degree murder. You have to stop him.
”

“
I have no control over the DA.
”

“
But you have to talk to him. You know what happened. Julie told me she told you everything.
”

“
I haven
’
t had a chance to investigate her story myself,
Mrs.
Carr. I imagine the DA
’
s investigator has done a thorough job of looking into it. They must have reasons to believe the murder was premeditated.
”

“
It was self-defense, Lieutenant, and you know it.
”

“Mrs.
Carr
. . .”

“
Listen. I know she shouldn
’
t have shot him. I know she had a chance to run. But that sorry son of a bitch screwed her head up so bad she wasn
’
t thinking right. How can you premeditate when you can
’
t think?
”

“Mrs.
Carr, I
. . .”

“
Lieutenant, do you have any idea what it
’
s like to be brutalized by a man? By a man who is supposed to love you, supposed to care for you, supposed to take care of you?
”

Lucinda
’
s mind filled with visions of her mother cowering in the corner while her husband towered over her. She saw the spittle flying as he yelled profanities and insults. She saw her mother cringe, heard her beg. She saw her father
’
s hand flash through the air, heard it make sharp impact with her mother
’
s body.
“
Yes,
Mrs.
Carr, I do.
”

Vivienne reached across the table and grabbed Lucinda
’
s lower arm with both of her hands.
“
Then you have to do something. I wouldn
’
t like it
,
but I could understand it if they charged her with manslaughter. But first-degree murder? Lieutenant, please, please, help my girl.
”

Lucinda closed her eye and inhaled deeply.
“Mrs.
Carr, I can
’
t promise you I
’
ll help Julie, but I can promise you I
’
ll look into it right away.
”

“
Thank you, Lieutenant. I can
’
t ask for anything more.
”

Lucinda escorted Vivienne to the elevator and accepted more expressions of gratitude from Julie
’
s mother as the elevator doors closed. She walked into the conference room talking.
“
Ted, I need to go to the Wagner house to check out Julie
’
s story.
”

“
You want me to come along?
”

“
No, I need you to get busy finding out everything you can about Evan Spencer. Where he went to school, where he grew up, everything. Find anyone who knew him
–
when he was five years old, when he was in high school, when he was in med school
–
anyone who
ever
knew him . We need to find something that shows a pattern supporting the theory that Evan Spencer is a cold-blooded serial killer. When the DNA results come in, I want to be prepared.
”

Lucinda pulled up in front of the Wagner house. It looked even sadder and more forlorn than before. The grass in the front yard was taller. More trash
had
accumulated and
now
skittered on the sidewalk outside the fence.

She walked up to the front door, pulled back the yellow tape, slid the key into the lock and walked inside. She felt the uneasy quiet present in every abandoned home
as
she drew in her first breath.

She went up the stairs and into the master bedroom first. She looked around the room. Plywood on the windows. A closet without any clothes. Empty dresser drawers. A disheveled bed. On the day of the murder, they
’d
all thought the room was weird. They
’d
exchanged a lot of theories about it. One officer
had
suggested they only used the room for kinky sex. Not one of them
had
theorized that the room was a makeshift prison. But it sure looked like one to Lucinda now.

She walked down the hall to the guest bedroom. This room was obviously occupied. The closet was full of clothing. The dresser drawers packed tight. An assortment of items sat by the bed on the nightstand. She shuffled through the clothes in the closet. It was all men
’
s clothing. She
hadn’t
notice
d
that before. She knew she should have. She pulled open the drawers of the dresser and checked them one by one. Not one piece of clothing belonging to a woman. I should
’
ve seen that before, too, she thought.

She left the guest room and stopped in the hallway bathroom. One toothbrush. One electric razor. A pile of damp towels in the corner. That was it.

She went downstairs to the living room where Terry Wagner
had
died. She stood back, folded her arms and stared at the sofa where Terry
’
s life
had
ended. Swatches of fabric were cut out of the upholstery on the arms and back. One whole cushion was missing. Still, there was enough blood remaining to send a whiff of death creeping up her nostrils.

She looked through the rest of the rooms on the first floor for the boxes of Julie
’
s clothing. She went down to the basement. She found them stacked there in a corner
–
each one had
“
Goodwill
”
scrawled on its side. She pulled open the crisscrossed flaps on the closest box. It was full of dresses, blouses and skirts, all still on hangers. She pulled open another. It was full of women
’
s shoes. She sighed.

She looked through the rest of the basement and then made another round through all of the rooms in the house. She searched hard, trying to find one small piece of evidence that made Julie
’
s story a lie. She found nothing.

She felt the presence of her mother with her. She heard her whisper,
“
This could be me, Lucinda. This could be me.
”
Lucinda shook her head to chase her mother away. This was not about her mother. This was about Julie Wagner. This was the story of Julie
’
s captivity, the story of Terry
’
s murder. No matter how she looked at it, though, she could not understand what good would be served by making Julie Wagner spend the rest of her life in jail. She shook her head and left the home.