Mistaken Identity (17 page)

Thirty-One

Leaving Charley at her family’s condo, Lucinda entered the office shortly before eight that morning. Despite the hour, Ted was already elbow deep in work at his desk. “In early today?” she asked, hoping he hadn’t labored through the night in the office.

“Yeah, I had some stuff I wanted to take care of before I go visit Ellen,” Ted said.

The news of a visit to his wife pleased Lucinda but she wasn’t sure what to say. If she reacted the wrong way, it could botch things up. Before she could think of the right words, Ted said, “I’m trying, Lucinda.”

“I know, Ted. I am very happy that you’re making the effort.”

“How much is enough?” he asked.

“You don’t have to ask me that, Ted. You know the answer – help her find her way home. After you take care of her, you can look to your own future,” she said.

“Our future?”

“Ted, I told you, we are not going there. Not now.”

“When, Lucinda? I called my feelings ‘fantasies’ in the courtroom for Ellen’s sake. But you know it’s more than that. When can we try to rebuild our relationship?”

“Maybe never, Ted,” she snapped and regretted it immediately. “I’m sorry. You’re trying, I owe you more patience. I just don’t want to go there until Ellen’s mental health problems are resolved.”

“What if they never are?”

“Ted, one day at a time. Okay? Now, have you got anything new for me in the
Sterling
case?’

‘Yeah, I contacted the Texas Rangers and the state criminal authorities in all the states between here and there. They’re all willing to help. I sent photos and a description of our suspect, Jason King and all his known aliases. They’ll alert all law enforcement in their jurisdictions to be on the lookout, pick him up if they find him and call us right away. Are you sure he’s our doer? And do you think he acted alone?”

“The print under the toilet seat convinces me of his complicity in the murders. I can’t say I’m certain but I’m pretty sure he didn’t act alone. One body treated with scorn, the other with respect – two victims Jason King didn’t know or didn’t know very well – the contradiction doesn’t make sense without another person on the crime scene.”

“Pamela Godfrey?”

“Maybe, but so far, no one’s turned up a connection between her and Jason King. But he has to know someone in the area besides Freddy and his grandmother. We need to ferret out information about his associates to see if anyone else is a likely partner in this crime. Back to Godfrey – I’d like to see if she’d admit to knowing Jason King before her attorney bails her out this morning but, after last night, I’m sure she won’t talk to me. Could you go see her and play the Pierce-is-a-miserable-bitch card and see if she’ll open up to you?”

“You ever wonder why that card is so effective with other women when I play it, Lucinda?” Ted grinned.

“Shut up, Ted,” Lucinda said, laughing.

As Lucinda walked up the sidewalk to the
Sterling
home she tried to visualize the duo of Jason King and Pamela Godfrey as accomplices.
Could they watch from a car on the street, waiting for Freddy’s departure?
Lucinda stood on the porch with her back to the front entrance and scanned the neighborhood.
A few cars parked by the curb. They could do it and not be noticed.

Or maybe their arrival after Freddy left for school was a coincidence?
That word made her squirm as it always did. She didn’t like the concept of coincidence and was reluctant to acknowledge it as a possibility.
If it were a coincidence and they had gotten here before Freddy walked out this front door, would we now have three victims instead of two?

She turned and faced the door.
Pamela had a key – entry would be easy. But what if it wasn’t Pamela by his side?
She dismissed that question as a distraction. She wanted to focus on the possibility of King and Godfrey right now.

She stepped inside the house and closed her eyes, reviewing her scenario.
King and Godfrey sat in the car and waited until Freddy left. Then they went inside. Did they approach the house as soon as the car drove off with the boy? Or did they wait for the adults’ routine to re-establish itself? Ten minutes? Fifteen minutes? Does it matter?

Would they stand here just inside the door and listen for any sounds of someone on the first floor before they went upstairs? Could they hear the sound of running water in the master bath from here?
Lucinda made a mental note to check that out before she left.

She paused halfway up the stairs and closed her eyes again, listening to the house, wondering if her suspects barreled up at top speed or ascended with caution. The memory of her tumble down the steps in
Texas
intruded in her thoughts. She shook her head to chase it away.

She continued up to the second floor, entering a library with three walls lined with shelves, broken only by long windows looking out on the front lawn. Four comfy chairs – each with its own ottoman and all flanked by a table with a reading lamp – spread out, filling the space. To her left was the door to the master suite. On the right a hallway led to three doors. The first appeared to be a guest room, tastefully done but without any touch of personal identity. The next door was a bathroom – not as spacious as the master bath but still much larger than the one in her apartment. The third led to Freddy’s room.
Would they go down this hall first? Check out these rooms? It would be the smart thing to do. Wouldn’t want to leave open doors at their backs.

After walking through those rooms, she entered the master bedroom and went to the bath where both victims died. According to ballistics, all the bullets came from the same gun.
One shooter? Probably. King or Godfrey?
She had a hard time imagining Godfrey pointing the gun at a human being and pulling the trigger. King, on the other hand, had demonstrated his lack of scruples all across the country.
King had to be the shooter.

Did Godfrey watch while King butchered Parker
Sterling
’s body? Or was she busy beside the bed, caring for the body of the woman she claimed to love?
Lucinda decided Godfrey might be cold enough to not give a damn about what King did to a dead body but thought the woman was probably too squeamish to watch it happen.
That puts her right here. In this spot.
Lucinda listened, imagining Pamela hearing the roar of the chainsaw and the crunch of bone, inhaling the iron-rich tang of fresh blood in the air.

Lucinda could see it, accept it as a possibility. Nonetheless, something about the scenario seemed off, as if a piece of the puzzle had been forced into an interlock that was wrong. She shook her head and returned to the bathroom where she turned on the shower and went downstairs to listen. She discovered that although she couldn’t hear the actual sound of water running in the master bath, she could easily discern the quiet rush of it as it coursed through the pipes in the house.

Returning to the master suite, she turned off the water and began looking for photographs and videotapes. In her mind, she visualized a clunky rectangle of plastic designed to shove into the mouth of a VCR player and snapshot-sized photographs printed on glossy paper. She assumed that none of this evidence would be in a family area of the home – they wouldn’t want Freddy to stumble across them.

She stepped into the walk-in closet. Although the stills could be slid into a pocket or tucked inside an envelope, she searched, at first, in places where something the size of a video cassette could hide.
But I could be looking for a DVD.
With that thought, she moved to smaller hiding places, sticking her hands in any pockets she found on shirts, pants or jackets. She retrieved near-empty packs of mints, ticket stubs and lint.
Jeez, how many pockets can two people own?
She felt overwhelmed by the size of their wardrobe.

This realization strained her focus, so she shoved it away and continued on, pocket to pocket. When her fingers brushed against small, hard objects in one of Parker’s sports coats, she first thought they were just more pieces of life’s debris archived away until the next time the garment was worn.

Pulling her hand out, she spread open her fingers and looked into her palm.
Memory chips?
For a moment, the relevance of this find eluded her – then it hit her.
Duh, Lucinda!
Welcome to the digital world. Of course, the still images and the video would be stored on removable chips, easily inserted back into the device to record new input or into a computer for easy viewing. Gotcha, Godfrey!

Thirty-Two

Before Lucinda answered her ringing cellphone, she looked down at the read-out on the screen.
Damn. I forgot to call Ricky
. “Hey, little brother, sorry I didn’t return your call. I really meant to but …”

“That’s okay. I called back because it was important.”

“What’s up, Ricky? Is Connie giving you more grief? Or is it our sweet sister?”

“I sure haven’t heard anyone call Maggie ‘sweet’ in a decade or two,” he said with a laugh.

“And it will probably be a couple more before you hear it again.”

“Listen, Lucinda, I’ve got more bad news.”

“What kind of bad news?”

“Family obligation kind of bad news.”

“Did someone else die?” Lucinda laughed.

“Yeah.”

“What? I was just joking.”

“Well, it’s Aunt Connie …”

“Aunt Connie? She didn’t seem to be that distressed over Uncle Hank’s death.”

“That wasn’t it. In fact, she was the same old bitter self she was when Hank was still alive – she just didn’t have him to kick around any longer. She was coming down the front steps of the church, looking back over her shoulder, scolding the minister for something or another, and she slipped. When she fell, she broke her hip.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Wish I was. Man, was she in pain. She bellowed so loud, everyone rushed out of the church – shoot, you probably could have heard her halfway across the county. Anyway, we got her to the hospital. Once they got enough drugs in her to make her comfortable she got all weepy about Uncle Hank not being there to take care of her. Then she got to feeling a bit too good and started in on me for not being there to help her down the steps. Same old Connie, as much vinegar as sauerkraut. But she was acting like herself so I thought she’d be fine.

“She had surgery the next morning and the doctor said it went well – it was a successful procedure. And she looked good – I mean, for someone who’s just come out of the operating room. I wasn’t worried about her the next morning, so I took care of my chores before I came into the hospital. But when I got there she was gone.”

“What happened?”

“Doctor said it was an embolism. Since it was the hip on her good leg that broke, they couldn’t get her up and walking around right away – doc said that might have prevented her from throwing a clot. But they couldn’t, she did and it’s over.”

Lucinda felt a twinge of guilt for not making peace with her Aunt Connie the last time she saw her.
Another weight I’ll carry on my back for the rest of my life – Connie wasn’t the nicest person in the world but she didn’t deserve to die.
“I don’t know what to say, Ricky.”

“Nothing much to say, Lucinda. I was hoping you might come on up for the funeral – it’s the day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there, Ricky,” she said and ended the call.
Aren’t I the lucky one? Two funerals in two days. And I’ll face hostility at both.

Ted settled in an attorney conference room awaiting the arrival of Pamela Godfrey. She walked up to the opposite side of the table and settled into a chair. At Ted’s nod, the guard stepped out into the hall.

Pamela looked haggard, as if she hadn’t slept at all the night before. “Listen, Sergeant, I don’t know what you want, but I want to be real clear. I am here for one reason and one reason only: I’d agree to talk to anyone to get out of that damned cell. I can’t believe you all kept me in here overnight. It’s outrageous. It’s a travesty.”

“It’s Lieutenant Pierce, I’m afraid.”

“What a bitch!”

“You won’t get an argument from me. She’s a real hardass to work with, too.”

Pamela wiggled in her seat, straightening her posture, and brought a hand up to pat at her hair. “What can I do for you this morning, Sergeant?” she said with a smile.

Ted couldn’t believe it had been
that
easy. “I was wonderin’ – do you know a guy named Jason King?”

Pamela’s brow furrowed. “You know, the name sounds familiar but …”

Ted slid out a photograph. “Here, look at this. Does he look familiar?”

She peered down at the image. “That’s Jason King?”

“Yes, it is.”

She shook her head. “Can’t say I recall ever seeing him. But the name – it sounds so familiar.”

“Concentrate – think back. Where did you hear the name? See it written?”

Pamela lowered her head, shook it and looked up. “It’s not coming to me at all.”

“Was it recently?”

“I think so.”

“Who have you talked to in the last week or so? Who might have mentioned the name?”

She shook her head again and then gasped. “It was Jeanine. She mentioned him. She said she only met him once but she despised him. He’s her mother’s boyfriend. He’s the reason why she cut off her mother. And she was feeling guilty about it, too. But she didn’t see what else she could do. She didn’t want Freddy exposed to him or his weird ideas. She said her mother believed every word he said but he was just making it all up to take advantage of her.”

“Making what up?”

“Something about Parker being involved in some occult nonsense – it was pretty stupid. But she was concerned because apparently her mother and this Jason King guy had convinced Freddy that his father was evil.”

Leaving the
Sterling
home, Lucinda went straight to the lab to see if Beth Ann Coynes had performed any miracles. As she stepped through the doors, her cellphone rang. She looked at the number and answered with a smile. “Hello, Beth Ann.”

“Lieutenant, I’ve got something for you.”

“And I for you; look down the hall.”

Beth Ann’s head popped out of a doorway. She laughed and disconnected. “I’ve got results for you right in here.”

Lucinda joined the lab tech in front of a computer monitor. “Look at this,” Beth Ann said. “Lots of similarities in the profiles of Freddy and the sample you gave me. I’d say they are related.”

“Do I hear a ‘but’ in there?”

“Yes, you do, Lieutenant. Since we know that Jeanine is Freddy’s mom, I can tell you with absolute certainty that this guy is not his biological father.”

“Can you tell anything else about the relationship?”

“I’ll run a Y-STR profile but it would help if I had additional samples from other males in their family. Any chance of that?”

“I’ll prioritize the report on William Blessing with the research department. We think he is the sample’s father.”

“If I know a bit more about him, I might be able to find a colleague with access to the DNA and pull the right strings to speed up getting a profile or sample. Now, c’mon, you gotta have a name for that ‘sample’ – after all, you turned in his razor.”

“Yes, but you don’t want to know,” Lucinda said.

“Where did you get that razor?” Beth Ann pressed.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh, so I guess that makes me an accomplice to your nefarious deeds.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot that, with Audrey out of the office, it all falls on your shoulders.”

Beth Ann laughed. “Not hardly. If I get caught, I’ll plead ignorance. I’ll just tell Doctor Ringo, ‘That Lieutenant Pierce tricked me.’ Trust me, she won’t doubt it for a minute.”

“Yeah, well, so it goes,” Lucinda said and walked away.

“Hey, anytime, Lieutenant. I’ll be back with you soon as I have anything.”

Lucinda raised her hand and waved it without looking back.

Sometimes Lucinda reveled in her image as the tough, difficult scourge of small-minded and stiff-necked people everywhere. But now, with the rawness of her recent family encounter still fresh in her mind, it rubbed old wounds raw. She felt as if everyone imposed their values, agendas and perspectives on her, assuming that their motivations were her own. She tried to shrug it off but this morning, the judgment of others hung round her neck like a dead and bloodied albatross.

She stopped by the research department and got the good news that the folks there had read her mind – a report on William Blessing was in the process of compilation and she’d find it in her email box soon. She picked up the supplies she needed to help Charley with her science project and returned to her desk. Ted dropped by and briefed her on the conversation he’d had with Pamela. “She fell for the nasty-you bit with ease,” Ted said, laughing.

“That’s good but, Jeez, did you get the feeling she was telling you the truth and not playing out a role herself?”

“Yeah, I did. In fact, I find it really hard to believe she had anything to do with the murders.”

“Aw, Ted. You’re just a sucker for a pretty face.”

“C’mon, Lucinda, that’s not fair.”

“Chill, Ted, I was just jerking your chain,” she said, knowing that she was more serious about what she said than Ted would ever know. She turned to her computer, opened her email window and was rewarded with the familiar ping that heralded incoming messages.

She opened the attachment to the email from the research department and started reading. William Blessing was a biochemist and geneticist with doctorates in both fields as well as an MBA in business administration. Even his critics praised him as a visionary and a genius but took issue with his stance on genetic engineering, calling him a Nazi. Unlike those dreamers of a master race, he did not place emphasis on ethnic origins but, instead, he advocated intelligence as the indicator of suitability for survival. He advocated the sterilization of all who tested below normal and promoted the increased breeding of those with high or genius level IQs.

Despite his philosophical shortcomings, he was universally praised as a pioneer in artificial insemination. He founded the still successful company IQ Genetics, a sperm bank that specialized in cognitively superior donors. In order to make a deposit, a candidate had to demonstrate the ability consistently to score at 140 or above in intelligence testing.

Lucinda already found the man distasteful – an arrogant narcissist, at the least, more likely a dangerous sociopath who would enjoy toying with those whom he deemed inferior. She scanned through a list of awards and other professional aspects of his life and then slowed as she reached the personal details.

He was in his forties before he married Viola Kidd. They had one child, John Blessing. William walked out on his wife and son, cutting off all contact with them, but he never filed for a divorce. Viola never pursued the dissolution of her marriage either nor did she demand the child support she deserved. However, she did revert to using her maiden name and had her son’s name legally changed to John Kidd. Lucinda swallowed hard. The initials were too much of a coincidence. Jason King had to be John Kidd.

William Blessing suffered a debilitating stroke in 2003, lingering on – attached to a ventilator – for five months before he died. His widow committed suicide in 2004. His son’s whereabouts were unknown.

Lucinda forwarded the email to Beth Ann, picked up her phone and called down to research. “Pierce here. Thanks for the great report. I really appreciate it – please express my gratitude to everyone who helped pull it all together. Beth Ann Coynes down in forensics is going to attempt to find Blessing’s DNA but it wouldn’t hurt if you guys were searching for a profile in case she comes up empty-handed.”

Lucinda felt as if she were driving blind through a blizzard. No matter how she steered, she collided with obstacles that slowed her progress and she couldn’t seem to recognize the truth until she saw it fading in her rear-view mirror.