The Trophy Exchange (33 page)

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Authors: Diane Fanning

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

BOOK: The Trophy Exchange
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I

m not talking without my lawyer present,

Evan said.


Fine, Doctor,

Lucinda said looking at her prisoner in the rear
-
view mirror.

Spoken like a very smart, but very guilty man.

 

Thirty-Nine

 

Tammy Johnson looked like a pushover. She claimed to be 5
'
2
"
tall
,
but she exaggerated a bit
,
and she weighed only 102 pounds on a fat day. Her looks were deceiving.

Raised as the only girl in a family of five boys, she
’d
learned to stand her ground before she
’d
learned to walk. When she ventured outside into the real world, life got tougher

there survival meant struggle. Tammy was a fighter before she started kindergarten.

At the age of
twelve
, she
’d
moved south to be raised by an aunt after her mother died in a Brooklyn drive-by shooting. Now at the age of
twenty-seven
, she took crap from no one. She worked hard, too, with determination and a consistent willingness to do more. She
’d
clawed her way up to a middle management position at the corporate headquarters of a retail chain.

A year earlier, she
’d
bec
o
me a homeowner when she purchased the small, one
-
bedroom home in a neighborhood filled with larger, more upscale houses. Her residence was an anomaly in the block and so was she.

She slid the key into the front
doorknob. Once inside, she threw the deadbolt and slipped off her shoes. She padded in stocking
ed
feet into the kitchen and grabbed a can of Diet Coke with lime from the refrigerator. She took a long swallow of the icy cold drink then, carrying the can, walked down the hall to her bedroom. She set the soft drink down on the top of her dresser, took off her suit jacket and tossed it on the bed.

She unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt and reached for the soda can. When she did, she saw the reflection of her closet door in the mirror and she saw the door move. A lot of women would scream, many would freeze in fear, some would take off running. Not Tammy. The realization that someone was hiding in her bedroom didn

t make her frightened; it pissed her off.

She stopped undressing and primped her hair in front of the mirror giving no outward signs of her awareness of a trespasser in her home. She waited for him to make his move, while the snake of vengeance curled tight in her chest.

She watched the closet door ease open as she ran her pinky finger over her lips pretending to care about the state of her lipstick color. She saw a stealthy move as his body shifted preparing to pounce.

He flew out of the closet faster than Tammy thought possible. He threw the length of rope over her head. She lowered her chin flat down on her neck and caught the rope between her teeth. When he pulled back, the coarse fiber cut into the corners of her lips. She threw an elbow backwards and caught him hard enough under the chin to make his teeth rattle. He moaned and staggered back a few steps.

She ran into the hall with the ends of the rope dangling from her mouth. He leaped and threw his arms around her fleeing body. She fell forward with her left arm twisted beneath her. She heard a crack and felt a breathtaking burst of pain as his weight fell on her.

She tried to push up with both arms

another sharp knife blade of pain. Her left arm was useless. She rolled. In one smooth move, she pushed up his goggles and stuck the fingers of her right hand into one of his eyes and twisted. He screamed and pushed her hand away from his face.

She leveraged her weight against the wall with her right arm and forced herself to her feet. She staggered to the kitchen and grabbed a cast
-
iron skillet off the stove. As he came around the corner, she slammed the skillet into his face. He fell to his knees.

She dropped the skillet and raced to the front door. She whimpered as she fumbled with the deadbolt. She pulled the door open and ran outside, into the street, her left arm hanging at an odd angle by her side. She flagged down a neighbor as he pulled into his driveway on his way home from work.

Inside, her attacker was stunned. His mouth bled. His eyes hurt. He looked around for his rope but couldn

t find it. He stumbled out the kitchen door into the backyard and headed for the cover of a nearby stand of trees.

 

Forty

 

On the way back to the station Lucinda pulled up to the hospital to execute a search warrant on the person of Evan Spencer. A trained nurse drew a vial of blood, labeled it and placed
it
into a larger glass container, sealed the end, then added the date and her initials.


Open wide,

she said and thrust an oversized swab into Evan

s mouth and swiped the side of his cheek. She secured that swab and said,

One more.

She swabbed the other side of his mouth, put it away and pulled out a pair of tweezers.


Who is Rita, Doctor?

Lucinda asked.


As I said, Lieutenant, I

m not answering any questions until my lawyer

s present.

He winced with each hair the nurse plucked from the top of his head.

When she had six hairs secured in the small Manila envelope, the nurse turned to Lucinda and said,

Last step now. Pubic hair samples.


Lovely,

Lucinda said as she walked out of the room. Ted stayed behind to observe. When the two men emerged, Lucinda said,

When you

re having an affair, Doctor, it

s not smart to bring your paramour into your home.


Rita is not
. . .”
Evan began then clamped his jaw shut.

I have nothing more to say to you until I

ve consulted with my attorney.

When they reached the police department, Lucinda escorted Evan through the work area and into a room that was bare except for a table and four chairs. Then, she left him there alone. Evan sat behind the closed door of the interrogation room awaiting the arrival of his attorney.

Lucinda paced between the cubicles in the work area outside. She didn

t want to give Evan credit for anything but she couldn

t deny him when he
’d
expressed concern about his girls on the ride to the station. He seemed sincere in his relief and gratitude when Lucinda told him about the step she

d taken to ensure their safety. Beyond that, he said nothing, but
:

My lawyer, please.

A suit stepped into the outer work area. Every hair in place. The knot of his tie tied to perfection. Pants creased to sharpness. Shoes polished bright. If that isn

t an attorney, Lucinda thought, it has to be a politician.

Are you the good doctor

s lawyer?

she asked.


Yes,

he said, sticking out his hand.

Stephen Theismann.


Lieutenant Pierce,

Lucinda said. She ignored his outstretched hand and turned to the department secretary.

Barbara, will you please call the
d
istrict
a
ttorney and let him know the doctor

s official mouthpiece is here.


I object to that, Lieutenant,

Theismann blustered.


We

re not in court, Theismann. You can put your indignation away and save your theatrics for a jury. We

re in my space now. We have different rules here. Follow me.

In the interrogation room, Theismann took a seat beside his client and Lucinda sat down across the table from the two men.

Dr Spencer,

she said looking straight at Evan,

who did you hire to kill your wife?

Both men responded at the same time. Theismann said,

Don

t answer that.

Evan said,

No one.


Evan, please do not answer any questions until I tell you to do so,

Theismann ordered.

Lieutenant, I

d appreciate it if you

d direct your questions to me.

Lucinda ignored him and gave all her attention to Evan.

Who is Rita?

Evan turned to his attorney who shook his head in response.

I can

t answer that o
n
the advice of my attorney,

Evan said.


It

s a simple question, Doctor. The woman spent the night in your home. If you

re comfortable enough to have her under the same roof with your daughters, surely you can answer a simple question about who she is.


Lieutenant, my client has already responded to that question,

Theismann said.

Please move on.


Cooperation is in your client

s best interest,
Mr.
Theismann.


I doubt that, Lieutenant.


What else are you hiding from me,
D
octor?


Please be more specific, Lieutenant, or I

ll be forced to terminate this interview.


Very well. Doctor, where were you on Sunday, March 27, of last year?


Don

t answer that, Evan,

Theismann said.


Where were you on Friday, October 7, of last year?


Don

t answer that.


Where were you on Saturday, February 25, of this year?


Don

t answer that.


Where were you on Wednesday, May 10, of this year?


Don

t answer that.


W
here were you
―”

Evan slammed his open palms on the surface of the table.

I

ve answered all these questions already, Lieutenant.


Evan, please,

Theismann said.

The door to the interrogation room opened and District Attorney Reed stepped inside. Theismann
rose to his feet and stuck out his hand.

So good to see you,
Mr.
Reed. My client and I would be delighted to discuss this misunderstanding with you, like gentlemen. One attorney to another, man to man, I

m sure we can clear this up in no time. You must know how impossible it is to talk civilly with an embittered detective.

Reed shoved his hands in his pants pockets and stared. He blinked three times then swiveled his head to Lucinda.

Lieutenant, if you need me, I

ll be outside.

“Mr.
Reed!

Theismann objected as the door pulled shut and he and his client were alone again with Lucinda.

Lucinda enjoyed watching the red flare bright on Theismann

s cheekbones. She loved it when insufferable bores were put in their place. She lowered her head to conceal her grin. She waited until the lawyer
had
settled back in his seat and then whipped out a close-up photo of Kathleen Spencer

s face and slapped it on the tabletop.

Rather brutal way for the mother of your two children to die, wasn

t it, Doctor?

After a quick glimpse, Evan turned his face away. A strangled noise escaped from his throat.


Don

t answer that, Evan.


Oh, you

re sensitive about that, aren

t you, Doctor? I

m so sorry. I forgot. You couldn

t bear to kill her yourself. You had to pay someone else to do it for you, didn

t you?


Don

t answer that.


Didn

t you?


Don

t answer that.

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