Authors: Diane Fanning
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Police Procedurals, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Health; Fitness & Dieting, #Diseases & Physical Ailments, #Alzheimer's Disease, #Crime Fiction
Lucinda lowered down into the chair. Her eyes formed slits, suspicion sent zings of apprehension down her arms. She swallowed hard. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me, Pierce. The police chief saw your little operation on the news. So did the mayor. And I think about five councilmen. They all think you deserve a commendation. But then they don’t have to work with you like I do.”
Lucinda sucked in her lips to prevent a grin from popping up on her face.
“There’s just one thing that needs to end. And it needs to end now. At the very least, I expect an attitude transformation by the time you return from your medical leave. You have to get over this aversion to working with our local FBI office. I heard from the local SAC – he saw the news, too. He wanted to know why we hadn’t asked for his assistance since we had multiple abductions. I told him it was an oversight. I don’t think he believed me, Pierce. I do not want to be put in that position again. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir, I will work on my attitude. And I can assure you that if you give me a month to make the transition, I will be more cooperative with the FBI.”
Holland narrowed his eyes. “Why do I think there’s something you’re not telling me?”
Lucinda opened her eyes wide. “I can’t say, sir.”
Holland shook his head. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Because I’m a good detective, sir?”
“Get out of here, Pierce.”
Lucinda didn’t hesitate for a second. She bolted out of his office and into her own. As Colter promised, the file was on her desk. She flipped it open and paged through the ledgers. Scattered throughout the first two pages were transactions payable to Gary Blankenship, most of them under $500 – but a few were bigger – the highest one was for $1200. Then, in the month of Adele Kendlesohn’s disappearance, there was a check for $5000 and additional payments on the first of every month after that for $1000. She picked up the file and headed down the hall.
Opening the door to the interview room, Lucinda said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Kendlesohn.”
“Why am I here? I asked the officers and they deferred to you. So I expect an answer, now that you are finally here.”
“You have no idea why we brought you into the Justice Center?”
“One of the officers mentioned something about abduction, so I assume it is about my mother-in-law. Do you need me to press charges against those crazy people I saw on the news last night?”
“No, no, we’ve filed charges already. We don’t need your help with that. In fact, right now, we’re charging you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Why did you refer to the people we arrested as ‘those crazy people’?”
“Is that against the law now? Calling people crazy? Has political correctness run that amok? You must be joking.”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Kendlesohn, I am not joking. Not at all. I just thought it was odd that you didn’t refer to ‘those crazy people’ by name.”
“I didn’t catch the names on the news.”
“You didn’t need to, did you? You already knew their names.”
“Oh my, Detective,” a wide-eyed Rachael said, one hand fluttering at her throat like a wounded bird. “Are you saying that the people who took my poor mother-in-law were actually people I knew?”
Lucinda slammed the folder down on the table between them. She flipped it open to the page with the $5000 check and swung it around facing Rachael. Lucinda placed an index finger on the ledger entry. “Cut the crap, Kendlesohn. You not only knew them. You paid them.”
“Oh my. Oh my, dear. That must have been my husband. You’ll have to ask him about that check.”
Lucinda flipped through the file until she reached the copies of the actual checks. She hit the signature line with the tip of a finger. “You’re a liar, Rachael.”
“How outrageous! I want an attorney. And I want one now.”
“Can it, Rachael,” Lucinda said. She walked behind her, grabbed an arm and slapped on one side of the cuffs.
Rachael struggled, trying to keep her other hand away from Lucinda. “How dare you? Do you know who I am? Do you know who I know? I’ll call the mayor. You’ll lose your job over this.”
Lucinda laughed out loud; she couldn’t help it. After surviving Captain Holland’s wrath, the idea of a threat from anyone else seemed ludicrous. Rachael stopped struggling and stared at Lucinda as if the detective had lost her mind. Lucinda slapped on the other cuff. She grabbed Rachael’s purse and gave a light poke to one of the woman’s shoulders and said, “Let’s go, girly.”
“How dare you!” her prisoner sputtered.
“Oh shut up. You invoked your right to remain silent – use it.”
Rachael continued to spout threats and insults all the way through the tunnel and up to the booking desk. Lucinda kept walking and laughing all the way.
At the desk, the booking deputy asked, “What did you do? Arrest a comedian?”
“Not hardly,” Lucinda said, sliding the arrest warrant across the desk, “but she cracks me up just the same.”
“Deputy,” Rachael said, “I want to report this woman. She has arrested me under false pretenses and has not accorded me the respect a woman of my position deserves.”
The deputy leaned forward nodding, with a look of empathetic understanding on his face. “Really, ma’am. I am so sorry. We always try to be polite to prostitutes.”
Rachael’s mouth opened wide but no words came out, just short, hard pants of outrage..
“Lieutenant, is that her purse you’re carrying?”
“Yes, it is. I would like the keys to her house, though. Rachael, could I give the keys to Eli so that he can take care of the dogs?”
“How dare you?” Rachael shrieked.
Lucinda turned to the deputy. “I guess we’ll have to break a window or bust down the door. Can’t have those little dogs starving to death.”
“There’s a law against that, Lieutenant,” the deputy said with a grin. “In fact, I can call animal control right now and get the poor things taken to a shelter.”
“Take the keys. Take the damn keys. Give them to Eli. Tell him if anything happens to a hair on their heads, he’s a dead man.”
“Oh, Rachael,” Lucinda said in a soft voice, “I’m not an attorney but I must advise you not to say things like that. Threats against your husband’s life won’t sound good to the judge, particularly after what happened to your mother-in-law. In fact, when I tell him, he just might deny your bail and you’ll have to make a whole new set of friends.”
“I want an attorney,” she sniffled. “I want an attorney now.”
“I’m sure the deputy will let you call a lawyer as soon as you’re booked. Won’t you deputy?”
“Sure will.”
“But first,” Lucinda continued, “he’s going to need the belt from your dress and your jewelry.”
“No!”
“Yes, ma’am. They’ve got to take your belt to keep you from harming yourself and they have to secure your jewelry to keep it from being stolen. Then they’ll take your photograph and fingerprint you. After that, you’ll be able to call your attorney, okay?”
“No, no, it’s not okay,” Rachael cried.
A female deputy arrived at the desk. “We can take it from here, Lieutenant.”
As Lucinda walked away, she heard Rachael’s pleas. “Detective, detective, don’t leave me here. Detective, please!”
Lucinda knew she should feel some pity for a pampered sixty-something woman being locked up for the first time, but all she could think of was Adele, abandoned and thrown into strange surroundings where she drowned to death far from home.
Forty-Six
Back at the Justice Center, Lucinda went down to the morgue to see if any progress had been made on the identification of the remains found in the Blankenship backyard. She stopped first at Doc Sam’s office. “Hi, Doc.”
“Lieutenant. Good timing. Saved me some trouble.” He handed papers across his desk. “This is the report from the forensic anthropologist. I haven’t gotten to the death certificate yet but the cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head. And the skeleton was Sadie Blankenship – dental records confirmed that.”
“What about the male body?”
“Alvin Hodges, just as you suspected. And he was killed the same way.”
“And the third body?”
“Now that you mention it, Pierce, I’d like to make a request.”
“What’s that?”
“It sure would be a lot easier on me if you find these damned bodies one at a time.”
Lucinda smirked. “I’ll remember that in the future, Doc.”
“See that you do. Anyway, the third body. She wasn’t shot. She was strangled. The rope was still around her neck. And, unfortunately, we don’t know who she is. Came up empty in the fingerprint database. Sent samples down to the lab for DNA testing but I don’t expect much from that. And her pockets were empty.”
“Damn.”
“Ought to make a law – can’t kill ’em and bury ’em without ID.”
Lucinda left his office laughing. She called Robin Colter. “Thanks, Colter. I really appreciated your help today. Can I buy you a latte?”
“You most certainly can. Meet you by security?”
The two women expressed their mutual gratitude and walked out of the building. As they started across the street, Robin asked, “What do you think my chances are?”
“I’d say—” Lucinda abruptly cut off as she saw a racing car coming in their direction. She grabbed at Robin. Simultaneously, Robin grabbed at her – both trying to push the other out of the way. They almost cleared the car, but the side mirror cut across Lucinda’s upper arm. Both women hit the ground, pushed themselves up and stared at the fleeing pale blue, ancient, vintage Mercedes.
A patrol car parked at the curb took off in instant pursuit. Lucinda called Dispatch. She described the incident, the vehicle and requested more cars. Lucinda heard Robin on her own phone asking for an ambulance and assumed it was an over-abundance of caution.
The women watched as one, two, three, four marked vehicles flew out of the garage moving at high speed, the sound of sirens fading as they moved further away. Officers carrying barricades ran into the street, blocking it from traffic. An approaching siren split the air, Lucinda looked toward the sound wondering what it was.
An emergency vehicle screeched to a halt and a uniformed paramedic jumped out with a bag and rushed toward Lucinda. The driver hopped out and went to the back of the vehicle.
“Lieutenant,” the paramedic said as he jogged towards her, “let me take a look at that arm.”
Puzzled, Lucinda looked over at her left arm, saw the blood running down it and puddling onto the street. Suddenly, the pain registered. “Damn,” she said.
The driver ran up pushing a gurney.
“No. No way. Nope. Do it here,” Lucinda said.
“Okay, Lieutenant, just hop up on the stretcher sideways,” the paramedic said. “I’ll bandage you up in the street.”
As he cleaned up her injury, Lucinda observed the intensity of movement around the Justice Center. Beefy Captain Holland burst through the front doors, moving faster than she thought he should for a man of his size and age. He flew down the stairs, his feet barely touching the front steps.
“Pierce. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Captain. It’s just a little cut,” Lucinda answered.
He looked at the pool of blood on the pavement and turned to the paramedic. “Just a little cut?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “But I’ve seen a lot worse. Probably should get a couple of stitches but the lieutenant doesn’t want to go to the hospital.”
“Aw, c’mon. Do I really need stitches?” Lucinda objected.
“You’re more likely to have a wider, permanent scar without them.”
“Oh please, look at my face. Does it look like a scar on my arm is going to bother me?”
“Whatever you say, Lieutenant,” the paramedic responded.
“You’re certain the stitches aren’t a medical necessity?” the captain asked.
“Yes, sir,” the paramedic said.
“Jeez, Pierce,” Holland griped, “you go out on a wild-ass mission. Two people are shot, one person is dead. You were trapped behind a bench taking gun fire, shot at while you hid in the water under a pier. And now you get hit crossing the street in front of the cop shop?”
“Used up all my good luck, I’d guess,” Lucinda said with a shrug.
“Please don’t move your arm, Lieutenant,” the paramedic asked.
“Sorry. Listen, Captain, this wasn’t an accident. That car was coming straight at us with the pedal to the floor.”
“Is the whole Blankenship family accounted for?” he asked.
“Yes sir. In jail, in hospital or dead.”
“What about the husband of the woman you just arrested?”
“Not likely.”
“Then, who?” Holland asked.
“Why do you assume I was the target, sir? Maybe someone was after Colter.”
“Colter? What do you think, Sergeant?” Holland asked.
“I don’t know. She could be right. Or it could have been random anger – someone just wanting to run down a cop.”