Punish the Deed (22 page)

Forty

Jake’s arrival at the garage coincided with the departure of the ambulance carrying Ellen Branson to the hospital. He talked to a few officers on the sidelines of the taped-off crime scene, finding out the identity of Lucinda’s assailant and everything they knew about what had gone down earlier. All the while, he kept a close watch on Lucinda as she answered questions and signed statements. When, at last, she looked up and caught his eye, he ducked under the tape. Standing in front of her, with a hand on each of her elbows, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, rubbing the spot on her head that had suffered a hit from the butt of the gun. “I’ve got a lump here but Ellen got the worst of it. I can’t help thinking I could have handled it better. I could have done something differently so that she wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“From what I hear, you were cuffed, down on your knees and still managed to save her life.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Lucinda sighed. “The only thing is that it just shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“Can’t blame yourself for that.” Jake stood back and looked her over, head to toe. “You’re kind of dusty and dirty.”

“Gee, thanks,” Lucinda said, taking a couple of useless swipes at her skirt.

She stretched her wrists past the cuffs of her jacket, displaying light red rings caused by the cuffs. “Cute, huh? I better go out and socialize with the S and M set before these marks fade away. I think my knees got the worst of it, though.” She pulled up the hem of her skirt to display run-filled hose and scraped up knees. “I need to go back upstairs to change. You wanna come with me? I’ll fix a fresh pot of coffee.”

“Sure, that sounds great,” he said.

In the elevator, Lucinda admitted, “I’m not real eager to get into the station this morning. I don’t know if anyone’s told Ted yet and I don’t want to be the one to do it.”

“Why? You think he’ll blame you?”

“Not hardly. But I will blame him. I told him to take care of that woman and he just blew me off. If I see him this morning, I might well punch him in the nose.”

Lucinda’s return to the apartment excited Chester. He dashed up and down the hall, skidding on the floor with each turn.

“Does he always greet you like that?” Jake asked.

“Nah, Chester is showing off. He does that when I come home with company.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Ha! Hardly ever. That’s why Chester finds it so exciting. Have a seat, Jake. I’ll get the coffee brewing.”

Jake walked past the kitchen counter over to the large living-room window. “Nice view,” he said. “What river is that?”

“It’s the James. And it’s the reason I picked this apartment and stayed here. I’d only move if I could afford one with a balcony overlooking the river but that’s a bit beyond an investigator’s salary.”

“Ever feel too cramped?”

“The place is pretty small but it’s just me and Chester – plenty of room for the two of us. Why? Do you have a bigger place?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky. When my grandmother passed away, I got her townhouse in Georgetown, all paid for but the taxes and insurance each year. I’m a
bona fide
homeowner – the easy way.”

“Lucky guy. While this is brewing, I’m gonna go change out of these dirty clothes. Just make yourself at home. If Chester bothers you, clap your hands and he’ll run off.”

Lucinda had slipped out of her suit and into a new one along with a fresh pair of panty hose by the time the coffee maker finished filling the carafe with coffee. When she walked down the hall, she saw Chester on his back with Jake bent over, stroking Chester’s belly and chin. “I guess he didn’t bother you.”

“Nah,” Jake said. “He’s a nice cat.” Jake stood and Chester writhed on the floor hoping to entice Jake into continuing with the belly rub. Jake laughed, stepped over him and walked into the kitchen.

They carried their coffee cups over to the sofa and sat at opposite ends, turning to face each other as they did.

“So, Ted’s wife wrote those notes on your car?” Jake asked.

“Yes, her name is Ellen. Not at all who I suspected. I thought it was a family member of someone I’d arrested. Ellen never even crossed my mind.”

“That means we have no leads to follow at all.”

Lucinda sighed. “We’ll just have to start over and find something we missed.”

“I think it might be a better idea if we visit a couple of the other crime scenes. See what they missed. You guys here were thorough – very thorough. Not sure if that’s true of all the jurisdictions. Some of them didn’t even notice the note or weren’t suspicious of it until we pointed it out to them.”

“You want me to go with you?” Lucinda said.

“Yeah, we’re partners, remember? You are currently on loan to the FBI.”

“I should go into the station today and touch base with the folks working my local case and with my Captain.”

“No problem; I didn’t plan on starting the road show until first thing in the morning anyway.”

Back at the station, Lucinda set Jake at a desk with a computer and a telephone and looked around for Ted. Then she walked down to Captain Holland’s office. “Hey, Captain. Didn’t see Ted down the hall.”

“He went to the hospital as soon as he heard about his wife. You gave us all a serious scare but you look pretty good for almost dying this morning.”

Lucinda shrugged. “Near-death experiences are in the job description, Captain. How is Ellen Branson doing?”

“Pretty good. They’re patching up her head injury and she will probably be processed into the jail before the day is over.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why is Ellen Branson going to jail?”

The captain stood, put his hands on his hips and stared at her. “Why? Pierce, you were there. Remember? She attempted to kill a police officer, namely you.”

“Yeah, I was there, Captain. She wouldn’t have shot me.”

“Are you delusional? She had you down on your knees with the barrel of a loaded gun pressed against your skull. What about attempted murder don’t you understand?”

“Captain, I want the charges dropped.”

“Dropped? You’re nuts. She stole a police officer’s gun––”

“That was her husband’s gun. I don’t see how that counts,” Lucinda interrupted.

“She stole a police officer’s gun,” Captain Holland repeated. “She lay in wait for another police officer. She assaulted a police officer. She abducted a police officer––”

“Abducted? She didn’t move me more than a foot,” Lucinda objected.

“You were restrained, Pierce. Restrained and under her control. The D.A. can make an abduction charge stick. Then she confiscated your weapon – another gun theft from a police officer. These are serious charges.”

“When you put it that way, yes they are. But are they really necessary? That poor woman needs help, not imprisonment. And she has kids who need her, too.”

Captain Holland stepped around his desk and stood in front of her. “Pierce, just get out of here. We are not dropping the charges.”

Lucinda stepped forward into his space. Her finger poked his chest. “She held the gun to my head, Captain. This should be my call.”

Holland’s jaw tensed and his nostrils flared. “Back up, Pierce, or I’ll stick you in the cell next to her.”

Lucinda started to snap back at him before regaining control of her emotions. Abashed, she looked down at the floor, stepped back and rested her hands at her side. “Sorry, Captain.”

“You should be. You are an ingrate, Pierce. While you’ve been traipsing around with your FBI agent, I’ve been defending you in front of the mayor and his cronies and believe me that hasn’t been fun.”

“Yes, sir. But I haven’t been traipsing, sir. I’ve been working, sir. More hours than required, sir. Without a request for additional monetary compensation, sir. And I really appreciate what you are doing on my behalf and on the behalf of wounded officers everywhere, sir.”

“Jeez, cut the crap, Pierce. Get the hell out of here.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, snapping to attention and giving a smart salute.

“Pierce, you’re trying my patience.”

“Yes, sir,” she said as she darted out of the room. Holland barely had time to return to his seat before Lucinda popped her head around the corner and said, “Sir, I hope you will reconsider the charges against Ellen Branson. I don’t think they’d be good for the morale of my colleagues.”

The captain flung out his arm and pointed a beefy finger in her direction. “Out, Pierce, out!”

Forty-One

Lucinda strode into the office where Jake pounded on a keyboard. “That sure didn’t go well.”

“What?”

“I tried to get the Captain to intervene on Ellen Branson’s behalf and got tossed from his office.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Get tossed?”

“No, try to get your captain to give Ellen a break?”

“I do not want to press charges against that poor woman.”

“She held a gun to your head, Lucinda.”

“Oh, not you, too,” she moaned.

“She committed a serious crime. You could be dead. Not press charges? Are you nuts?”

“Don’t get your boxers in a wad, Jake.”

“Who told you?”

“Who told me what?”

“That I wore boxers.”

“Nobody. It’s just an expression. But you’re changing the subject. Ellen would not have shot me.”

“Were you completely convinced of that while you were kneeling on the concrete?” Jake asked.

“That’s beside the point,” Lucinda argued.

“No, it’s not. Were you?”

“Yes,” she said but would not look him in the eye.

“Liar. If you were that sure, you wouldn’t have kneeled in the first place.”

“Okay. I admit it. I wasn’t positive she wouldn’t shoot me. I didn’t
think
she’d shoot me but I didn’t want to push my luck.”

“Fine. Then she committed a serious crime. Your life was at risk. End of story.”

“Oh, don’t end of story’ me. You are not my captain, Mr. Special Agent man.”

Jake raised his hands in front of his face as if warding off an attack. “Sorry, sorry, that was out of line. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just arguing a point, not trying to tell you what to do. Friends?” he said with a grin as he stuck out his hand.

“Maybe,” she said as she took his hand in hers and gave it a shake. “Maybe.”

The phone on Ted’s desk rang and Jake reached for it. “Branson’s desk. Lovett speaking.”

He listened for a moment and said, “Branson’s out for the day. Hold on a second. Let me put you on speakerphone. I’ve got Lieutenant Pierce with me here.” Before pressing the button, he turned to Lucinda. “This is my lab calling. They’ve got some results.”

“Okay. We extracted DNA samples for the rope used to hang Michael Agnew. One profile fits the victim. The other profile does not. And we did not get a hit on the database.”

“Damn,” Lucinda said.

“The DNA database is still a work in progress. Even though we didn’t get a hit today, we could get one tomorrow. New profiles are uploaded every day. We’ll put it on the high-priority list to double-check it until we have an identity.” The tech continued, “Lieutenant, we did check the profile against those of your suspects and didn’t get a match there either.”

“So you came up totally blank?” Jake asked.

“Not exactly. Branson got an investigator in Jacksonville, Florida, to forward a DNA profile they found on a crime scene down there. And it was a match. That’s why I wanted to check with Branson to see if he’d dug up anything new.”

“I doubt if we’ll see him today,” Jake said. “But we’ll dig on his computer and see if we can find anything and get back to you if we do.”

They navigated through Ted’s database, amazed at the depth and breadth of the information he’d managed to organize and input in such a short period of time. “I give up,” Jake said. “I’m can’t figure out what stuff is new and what stuff they already have.”

“Maybe we oughta shoot the new database up there and let them sort it out. They’re probably more familiar with Ted’s process than we are.”

“Good idea. I’ll call and get the email address for whoever I need to send it up to.”

Lucinda sat in front of the keyboard, scrolling through the details of the unfolding case. Seven homicides had now been connected to the one at the school district building. Four more were being looked at as possible connections. The inconclusive finding there probably had more to do with sloppy crime-scene work than anything else. Jake was still talking to D.C. when the phone on Lucinda’s desk rang. She walked over and answered, “Pierce.”

“Hello, Lieutenant. This is Sergeant Blocker with the homicide department in Philadelphia. I want to apologize ahead of time if this is a stupid phone call – there are good odds that it is. But I couldn’t get it out of my head without making sure.”

“Fine, Sergeant. What’s on your mind?”

“We had this incident the other day. A 9-1-1 call, that really only required medical assistance, got a bit garbled and prompted dispatch to send out a couple of patrol cars. One team went inside the building. The other team secured the outside perimeter. The guys inside were finding out that there wasn’t an assault in progress, after all. Some guy in the office was having a stroke or heart attack or something. Anyway, the guys outside found a notepad with a weird message written on it. The contents of it struck them as a little hinky so they figured it might be a good idea to look around and see if anything else looked suspicious. They had about given up and were approaching a dumpster to toss the notepad inside as just more litter. But then, they spotted a duffle bag tucked between the wall and the garbage bin. When they opened it up, there were dirty clothes inside. So, they bagged it as evidence and brought it all to me in homicide. They had no idea if it was connected to anything criminal but they didn’t want to risk that it was clothing some perp dumped.

“Anyway, I figured that I just might have gotten lucky and the guys stumbled across something I needed to close an open case so I sent it up to the lab for processing. Before I turned over the notepad, though, I made a copy of the note. I’ve read it over a few times and it just stuck with me.”

Jake had ended his call and stepped over to Lucinda’s desk. He looked at her with raised brows. She raised a finger and mouthed, “Just a minute.”

Sergeant Blocker continued with his story. “So I checked the national crime database for any kind of match on the note’s contents. I entered the phrase “I was left behind” and there you were. I still wasn’t sure if I should call or not but then I noticed another coincidence. The event here occurred at the Family Services Center, a non-profit agency. And, well, I’m not real fond of coincidences. You think I might have anything here? Or am I just wasting your time?”

Lucinda’s heart thudded in her chest and sweat oozed out of her palms. “Can you fax that note to me, right away?”

“Sure can. Hold on,” he said.

Lucinda listened to the murmur of voices as the sergeant talked to someone else in the room with him. “Jake, I’m going to turn this guy over to you when he comes back. They’re processing some dirty clothes that might be connected to our cases.”

When Blocker returned to the phone, he said, “Okay, it’s two pages and it’s on its way.”

“Sergeant, did you say the bag and the dirty clothing are in your lab?” Lucinda asked.

“Sure did.”

“I need to get your lab in communication with the FBI lab. Special Agent Jake Lovett is here. He can give you the contact information.”

“A Feeb? You’re working with a Feeb?”

“He’s not bad for a Feeb, honest,” she said, with a grin in Jake’s direction that caused him to roll his eyes. “He’ll need to get your lab coordinated with his lab in D.C. I’m going to go check on the incoming fax.”

“All right. But you owe me. I don’t like Feebs.”

“Who does, Blocker?” she said with a laugh before handing off the phone and going across the hall to the fax machine. She picked up the first page as it hit the basket. One glimpse at the paper with its block printing and key words and she knew. “It’s our guy,” she shouted across the hall to Jake.

When he joined her by the fax, she handed him a sheet of paper. Lucinda tapped her finger on the machine, waiting for the next page to chug its way through the machine while Jake read the first page.

I WAS LEFT BEHIND.

WAITING FOR THE DAY TO END. FOR THE PEOPLE TO LEAVE. GOODIE TWO SHOES LEFT BEHIND.

BYE-BYE GOODIE TWO SHOES. GOODIE TWO SHOES POINTING HIS TOES TO THE SKY.

ARE YOU A GOODIE TWO SHOES, TOO? SOME COPS ARE.

MAYBE I’LL LEAVE A COP BEHIND NEXT. OR A TEACHER. GOODIE TWO SHOES COME IN MANY SIZES, IN LOTS OF COLORS.

WHO’S NEXT? WHO KNOWS? I’M THINKING

Lucinda pulled out the second page and held it where they could read it together.

THAT MY WORK NEVER BE DONE. THEM THAT LEFT ME BEHIND SHOULD BE SHAKING IN THEIR GOODIE TWO SHOES. THEY SHOULD KNOW WHO I AM AND OWN THEIR FEAR.

TONIGHT, I’M COMING FOR FREDERICK LEE. HERE’S A NAME FOR YOUR FEAR, GOODIE TWO SHOES.

Across the bottom of the page, a large, blowsy signature:
Charles Sinclair Murphy
.

Lucinda and Jake looked at each other. “Sure, but is that his real name?” Jake asked.

“I betcha it is,” Lucinda said. “Let’s see what we can find out.” In two minutes, they had enough information to confirm their suspicions. They sent out a mug shot and criminal record of Charles Sinclair Murphy to the dispatcher at the FBI to issue a “Be On the Look Out” alert to law enforcement offices across the country. Now came the part of the investigation that filled them both with dread – the waiting. Waiting for someone, somewhere, to locate their suspect.