Twisted Reason (6 page)

“Your honor, I became involved with the Spencer family when I investigated the murder of Dr. Spencer’s wife about two years ago. I have continued to have a relationship with the young daughter of the accused – kind of an informal Big Sister type of relationship, your honor.”

“What’s your relationship to Evan Spencer?”

“He’s Charley’s father, your honor. He allows me to visit her.”

“No romantic involvement between you and the good doctor, Lieutenant?”

Lucinda clenched her jaw and bit off the angry words she longed to speak. If it were anyone but a judge, she’d let them fly. “No, your honor. None at all.” She glared at Evan daring him to contradict her.

The judge turned to Evan and asked, “Is that correct, Doctor?”

“Yes, yes sir, your honor. I tried . . .” he said with a shrug.

Lucinda rolled her eyes. “Your honor, I have not—”

“Lieutenant, you’re not the accused here. What do you want me to do?”

“I’d like you to release Dr. Spencer on his own recognizance. I have serious doubts about the validity of the charges brought against him. And he is an upstanding, law-abiding citizen, deeply connected to his community, your honor.”

“How about if I release him and hold you personally responsible for seeing that he returns to court?”

Not exactly what she wanted, but Lucinda wouldn’t quibble. He’d be able to go home to his two girls and that was all that mattered. She nodded and said, “Yes, your honor.”

“See the clerk,” he said and tapped down his gavel. “Next case, bailiff.”

Turner unlocked the cuffs to allow Evan to sign his name under Lucinda’s signature. Evan and Lucinda walked out to her car.

“I sure hope you don’t have any missions of mercy outside of the country planned in the near future.”

“No. I haven’t been doing much of that. I’ve mostly been recruiting other doctors for Doctors without Borders but with one exception, I haven’t been out of the states since Kathleen died. I need to be here for the girls.”

“Charley said Ruby was showing signs of improvement.”

“Yes, well, she still sucks her thumb but her psychologist said a little emotional immaturity is to be expected after what she’s been through,” Evan said with a sigh.

“Seems to have had the opposite effect on Charley.”

Evan laughed, “Tell me about it. Sometimes she seems more like my mother than my daughter.”

On the drive to Evan’s riverfront condo, they talked about Evan’s predicament and what needed to be done the following day. Lucinda promised to talk to the district attorney as soon as she could catch up with him. As Lucinda brought the car to a stop, Evan asked, “You want to come up and see Charley, maybe stay for dinner.”

“I really have to get back to the office. I left some loose ends there when I came to your rescue.”

“Another time, then. And thanks – you look great astride a white horse. You need a white hat?”

“Nah, I did a Texas thing last year and it didn’t work out too well and besides, I wanna keep the bad guys guessing,” she said, putting her car in gear and driving out of the parking lot and back to her office.

Walking through her office door, she said, “Oh, jeez, Ted. I didn’t mean you had to wait until I got back. I thought you’d mind the phone until five and then head out. Any calls?”

“Nothing that mattered. What are you going to do now?”

“I’ve got to write my preliminary report, organize my notes and make plans for my course of action tomorrow on this possible homicide I picked up today.”

“Okay, I’ll get out of your hair, but once you’re past the first forty-eight, I’d like a few minutes of your time.”

“I can make time for you now, Ted, if it’s important.”

“Nah. I’ll catch you later.”

Lucinda watched Ted’s retreating back and wondered what was on his mind. His demeanor with her seemed more subdued than usual. It was almost as if he were saying goodbye. An instant of alarm forced her to her feet with thoughts of following him down the hall. She reconsidered the impulse, sat back down and got to work.

Nine

 Sherry dressed for dinner. She pulled on her stockings, shoes and a skirt but before putting on a blouse, she reached for her silver locket. It wasn’t where it should have been. She looked everywhere for it. She threw underwear and socks out of the top drawer of her dresser. As the items piled up on the floor, she muttered, “Where is it? Where is it?”

She slammed the top drawer shut and opened the second one for the third time that evening. The first two times through the dresser’s contents, she’d shuffled through the clothing. Now, it was panic time. T-shirts and sweaters flew out and joined the other clothing sprawled on the tile.

When it was empty, she shoved it in and jerked out the bottom drawer. Normally, it took a lot of effort for her to get down on her knees, but now she was fueled by desperation and she dropped down totally unaware of the pain. An involuntary “oof” escaped through her lips before she continued her non-stop mantra of “Where is it? Where is it?”

The noise drew the attention of the nurse walking past the bungalow. She knocked on the door. When Sherry didn’t respond, she cracked it open. “Miss Sherry? Miss Sherry? Is everything okay?”

Sherry popped to her feet. “No. It’s not. Did you steal it?”

“Steal what, Miss Sherry?”

“You did, didn’t you? You steal from me all the time, don’t you? Now give it back,” Sherry said, thrusting out an open palm.

“What’s missing, Miss Sherry?”

“My locket, damn it. My locket. The one my Henry gave me. Now give it back!”

“Miss Sherry, I don’t have your locket, hon, but I’d be glad to help you look for it.”

“Somebody stole it! If you didn’t, it was somebody else. And I want it back,” Sherry pushed the woman aide aside with a strength no one suspected she still possessed. She hit the door and fast-walked down the path toward the dining room.

“Miss Sherry! Miss Sherry!” the nurse aide shouted. “You forget your blouse, hon. Come back, get dressed.”

Sherry didn’t slow her pace. Her bosom heaved as she barreled in through the double doors of the dining room. “Who stole my locket?”

A few forks clattered to the table as all eyes turned to the entrance.

“I want it back. Whoever took it, give it back now!”

A few of the diners tittered like school children. The woman sitting closest to her hung her head and sobbed out loud.

Sherry, fists clenched tight by her sides, stepped up close to the sobbing woman and glared down at the top of her head. “Stop your sniveling and give me back my locket.”

The woman shook her head violently and cried all the louder.

“I know you took it,” Sherry said, flexing her fingers in and out. “Now give it me or else.”

Don, who never failed to calm her, raced across the dining room and put an arm around Sherry’s shoulders.

She shrugged it off and glared at him. “She stole my locket. I want it back.”

“The locket Mr. Henry gave you?”

“Yes. Yes. That’s the one. You make her give it back.”

“Listen, Miss Sherry,” Don whispered in her ear. “You forgot to put on your blouse, doll. Let’s go back to your cottage and put one on. Then, we’ll get your locket back, okay? And after that, we have chocolate chip cookies for dessert.”

“Chocolate chip?”

“Yes, ma’am. C’mon now, let’s get you dressed for dinner.”

While she selected a top to wear and buttoned it up, Don searched through the small bed and bath. He found the necklace on the back of the toilet. “Lookee here, Miss Sherry. I found your locket.”

“You stole it!”

“Now, Miss Sherry, you know better than that. Your good friend Don would never steal nothin’ from you. Come here, I’ll fasten it round your neck.”

Sherry turned her back to Don. When he finished, she stepped up to a mirror, smiled at the image of the locket hanging on the bare skin between the two sides of her V-neck. She spun around, still wearing the smile that no longer touched her eyes. “Time for chocolate now?”

Don offered his elbow, she slid in her hand. He patted it. “Now, Miss Sherry, let’s go have a bite of dinner and a few of those yummy chocolate chip cookies.”

“With walnuts?”

“Yes, indeed, Miss Sherry. Wouldn’t make ’em any other way.”

“I have some walnuts,” she said pulling away and scurrying over to her night stand. She reached in the drawer and grabbed at something inside, thrust her arm at Don and opened her hand. “See!”

Don looked down at the acorns piled in her palm. “Yes, ma’am, Miss Sherry. But those aren’t the eatin’ kind.”

Sherry clenched her hand over her treasures and brought it to her chest, covering it with the other hand. “They’re mine.”

“Yes, ma’am, they sure are. Put them away now and let’s go on to dinner.”

Ten

Lucinda read through her report on the computer screen, stopping from time to time to correct a spelling or clarify a statement. She printed it out and looked it over again, checking her notes to be sure she left out nothing of importance. She answered her phone before the first ring ended. “Pierce.”

“Jumbo Butler here, Lieutenant. I’ve been pulling records and getting more bothered with every few files I read.”

“What’s bothering you, Butler?”

“Well, first I went back twelve months. Then, I went back twelve more. And I’m seeing a pattern here. There are more missing elderly in the last year and a half than I remember ever before. I need to dig some older data out of the files to be sure but I think it’s more than just an increase in the ageing population.”

“Why not? What are you seeing?”

“Lieutenant, I’ve been working missing persons for more than a dozen years. Most the missing old folks we have turn up wandering around somewhere nearby. Or we get a call on a Silver Alert because somehow some old guy managed to get a bit farther away from home than anyone thought possible. But most of these cases are wrapped up in a day or two – maybe three. Then, about half of the remaining cases, we find their bodies within a week. Usually dead because of an accidental fall or exposure to the elements – but that usually only happens in the dead of winter or in a bad heatwave.

“The rest, with a few exceptions, show up in an emergency room without ID, or are spotted by someone who knows them. We have had one old lady who disappeared on a Sunday. As many meetings as there were at the church that week, no one saw her or if they did, didn’t realize anyone was looking for her. It wasn’t until the next Sunday morning that she was found snoring in one of the pews in the sanctuary. She’d been in the church the whole time.

“But now it appears as if we’ve got a lot more elderly people that just plumb stay missing. That’s my perception anyway. I’m going to have to go back further in the records to be sure, but it just doesn’t feel right.”

“You don’t have stats on this?”

“We’ve got great numbers on missing kids and missing adults but beyond that any details require a file by file search.”

“So, you have no idea how many of the missing elderly have dementia issues?”

“Not a clue, but I’ll find out. I can get some admin help with the search in the morning. I’ll keep at it until I realize I’m imagining things or I have some hardcore data for you.”

“Thanks, Butler. Keep in touch,” Lucinda said, ending the call. She picked the receiver back up and called the Culpepper house. When a woman answered, Lucinda said, “Mrs. Culpepper?”

“Yes, this is Joan.”

“This is Lieutenant Lucinda Pierce. Did you get my card and message?”

“Yes, ma’am. I did. It’s just I forgot to call, I . . . oh, I won’t lie. I saw ‘homicide detective’ on your card and I was terrified that meant you’d found my mother’s body and well –” Joan sniffled – “I just hadn’t gotten up the courage to call.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. We haven’t found your mother. I’m sorry I distressed you. It was Edgar Humphries that prompted me to contact you. You did hear about Mr. Humphries, didn’t you?”

“Oh dear Lord, yes. I’ve been checking my front porch constantly half expecting to find my mother’s body there. I don’t know how I’ll sleep tonight. I’m afraid to leave the house in the morning because I’m afraid I’ll stumble over her.”

“I’d like to talk to you about your mother. Could I come by tomorrow afternoon?”

“The morning would be better.”

“I’m sorry but I have to be . . .” Lucinda stopped mid-sentence. She didn’t want to tell her that she’d be in the autopsy suite watching Edgar Humphries’ body being cut up. “I – I have a prior commitment in the morning. I’m sorry.”

“How about the following day, then?” Joan Culpepper suggested.

Lucinda certainly did not want to postpone this interview but she didn’t want to bully the woman when she needed her cooperation. Her mind raced trying to come up with a response that would work. Joan beat her to it.

“Oh, I guess you need to get on this right away, don’t you? How about tonight? I know I won’t be sleeping any time soon.”