Twisted Reason (5 page)

“I read the statement you got from Jenkins when Edgar Humphries first went missing so I know what she said. But how was she? How did she strike you back then?”

Jumbo squinted his eyes and rubbed his thumbs and forefingers together. “As I recall, she was rather distressed about Edgar’s disappearance. She seemed to like him and like her job caring for him. In fact, I remember her saying, ’Nothing says love like a warm biscuit straight from the oven.’ Made me think of my grandmother,“ he said with a smile. “Edgar apparently liked those biscuits a lot. And she wasn’t hopeful from the start. I remember her saying something about poor, old Edgar having eaten his last biscuit. She was certain something terrible had happened.”

“What about the Humphries?”

“They were pretty optimistic in the beginning. But the doubt set in pretty early on, though, considering his mental condition. But like most loved ones of missing persons, the not knowing made them a bit crazy. Not that I blame them.”

“Did you get the impression that either one of them knew where he was or had anything to do with his disappearance?” Lucinda asked.

“Eric Humphries sure didn’t. He was ambivalent about his father going into an assisted living facility and wasn’t really convinced it was the best thing for his father. Vicki on the other hand was eager to place him. I guess out of everyone, she had the strongest motivation to get him out of the house. But I can’t see her killing him.”

“That might not have been part of the plan but something may have gone wrong. Was there anyone else – someone who might have made you suspicious or even uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it—one of the sons. Can’t remember which one it was. But when he was here, he was a problem. No matter what I asked Eric or Vicki, he’d jump in with a defensive response as if I were attacking his parents. I passed it off as anxiety, but who knows?”

“Do you have any other unsolved missing senior citizens cases from this past year?”

“Yeah,” he said nodding, “I believe I have quite a few. I’ll need to go back to the office to check that out.”

“We’re pretty much done here,” Lucinda said. “The forensics team’s finished and until the sedative’s worn off and Eric Humphries is fit to answer questions I don’t think there’s anything else to do. Why don’t you tear down the tape and send everyone on their way before you go. And don’t bother copying any other files just now. I’ll look them over when I get there and see if I need anything.”

Lucinda headed round the corner and down a couple of blocks to Lincoln Avenue. She enjoyed the short walk; the air smelled like spring, the trees flashed tiny, bright green, new leaves, and the forsythia was in full bloom. The homes on Lincoln were statelier than those on Jefferson Street. Lots of big columns and broad staircases led up to the front doors. The Culpeppers’ house was even more ostentatious than most – a tall wrought iron fence ran around the property. She pushed on the gate at the driveway but it was locked. A keypad on the right waited for the entry of a password she did not have. She pressed the call button beside a speaker box but got no response. She’d hoped she’d at least be able to stick a card in the door with a “call me” note on the back. She settled for slipping it into the black mailbox mounted beside the gate on the other side.

She ran through questions on her way back to Jefferson Street.
Are the disappearances of Mrs. Culpepper’s mother and Edgar Humphries connected? Or is it just a coincidence?
She winced at the thought of that last word.
If they linked together, are the other unsolved cases part of a bigger crime? But why would anyone want to abduct senior citizens with dementia unless they intended to demand ransom? But the Humphries never received a note, or did they? One more thing to ask the Humphries – wonder if I’ll get an honest answer?

Seven

After a morning of back-to-back patients and a quick lunch at his desk, Dr. Evan Spencer walked out the rear door of his office to drive over to the hospital for a surgery. A metallic bang and a woman’s moan drew his attention to the back of the building. He rushed around the corner and saw a man slam a woman into the side of a dumpster and then shove her to the ground. “Hey! Cut that out!” Evan shouted.

The man looked in Evan’s direction for a moment then turned and kicked the woman in the small of her back.

“Stop it!” Evan yelled.

The man didn’t listen; he drew back his leg to kick again. Evan grabbed his shoulder, spun him around and punched him square in the nose.

The man’s chest heaved, his fists clenched by his side. “You son of a bitch,” he snarled as he swung a roundhouse punch in the direction of Evan’s head. The doctor ducked, pulled out his cell and said, “Get out of my parking lot or I’m calling the police.”

“This is none of your damned business. I needed to teach her a lesson,” the man said, wiping at the blood trickling from his nose.

“Not here. Not now,” Evan said, pressing the 9 and the 1 buttons on his phone. “One more digit,” he said, wiggling a finger in the air above the keypad.

The man sneered and spat on the pavement. “Fine. She’s your problem now,” and ran down the street.

Evan kneeled beside the brutalized woman. She was older than he’d thought from a distance – probably in her late seventies. The man who attacked her was a lot younger. Evan reached out his hand. The woman pushed up on her hands and scrabbled backwards, whimpering as she went.

“Ma’am, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a doctor, I want to help you.”

But her irises contracted and her pupils darted around all over the place like crazy red ants.

Evan stepped back a couple of paces. “Okay, okay. I won’t come any closer. I’ll get help.” He called a nearby ambulance service. “This is Dr. Evan Spencer. I have someone in need of transportation to the emergency room. And please make sure at least one of the paramedics is a woman. The victim’s just been knocked around and won’t let me get near her – it could be because I’m male.”

“Right away, Doctor. Should be there in three.”

Evan leaned his back against the wall of the building and slid down to a crouch. He wanted to do something for the poor lady but all his staff had left for lunch and he knew if he approached her again, she’d panic. Two and a half minutes oozed past as they waited for the emergency vehicle.

An athletic woman bounded out of the truck in navy blue scrubs, her ponytail swaying in rhythm with her walk. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” she asked the woman on the ground.

The woman looked up at her as if she didn’t understand the question.

“Oh, that’s all right. We haven’t been formally introduced yet, have we? That’s okay; we’ll take care of that later. You want to go into the ambulance on a stretcher?”

The woman made tight, hard shakes of her head.

“Well, how about if I help you to your feet then? Will that work?”

The old woman nodded her head slowly. The paramedic slipped an arm under her elbow and eased her up. “Is that okay, sweetie?”

The victim nodded again.

“Alrighty, darlin’. Now who did this to you?”

The battered woman lifted an arm and pointed her finger at Evan.

He put up two open palms in a defense posture. “No, no, no, no. She is confused.”

The paramedic looked at him through slitted eyes. “You’d best follow us over to the hospital, Doctor.”

“I’m heading there anyway. I have a surgery scheduled this afternoon. I’ll come down and see how she is as soon as I’m through.”

“I know who you are, Doctor. You’d better be there.”

Evan watched the ambulance pull away, wondering what he’d done to deserve that. He climbed in his car and followed the emergency vehicle down the road.

After the surgery, Evan felt chipper. The procedure went well, no complications, no sweat. He left the surgical suite and ran right into two beefy patrolmen with their arms folded across their chests.

“Dr. Evan Spencer?”

“Yes,” Evan said.

“Turn around, sir, you’re under arrest.”

“Excuse me? Under arrest? For what?”

“Sir, just turn around and let me cuff you. You don’t want to make a scene.”

“What’s the problem, officers?” he said as he pivoted.

“You forgot that little old lady you beat up already?”

“I did no such thing.”

“Save it, Doctor. Our orders are to bring you in. Period.”

Red flushed Evan’s face from his neck to his hairline as he was escorted past nurses and doctors with open mouths or querulous brows. He flashed a weak smile every time he met someone’s gaze but they all averted their eyes from him when he did.

Eight

The day was rolling into late afternoon by the time Lucinda entered her office and was surprised to see Sergeant Ted Branson there talking on her phone. He turned in her direction. “She’s here now. Hold on.” Ted put his hand over the receiver and said, “It’s a deputy down in the jail – someone they arrested wants to see you.”

She took the phone from his hand. “Pierce.”

“Lieutenant, Deputy Turner here. I know this sounds unbelievable but the police department just brought in a guy who’d rather speak to you than to an attorney.”

“Who did he kill?”

“I don’t think he killed anyone, Lieutenant.”

“Then I can’t be of any use to him.”

“Wait, Lieutenant. He said he knows you.”

“What’s his name?”

“Spencer. Evan Spencer.”

“You locked up the doctor?”

“Yeah, we’ve got him on an assault charge.”

“Assault? Dr. Spencer?”

“He was right there next to the woman he knocked around and she’s pressing charges.”

“A woman? He attacked a woman? Are you sure about this?”

“We’ve got her statement right here. She’s still in the hospital. Just ‘cause he’s a friend of yours, Lieutenant . . .”

“Did he admit to the assault?”

“Oh, c’mon, Lieutenant, they all say they didn’t do it.”

“I’ll be right there,” she said and hung up the phone. “Ted, I have to go over to the jail…”

“Charley’s father’s been arrested for beating up a woman?”

“Something’s wrong here, Ted. I’ll let you know what it is when I straighten out this mess. Do you mind babysitting my line while I go figure it out?”

Ted nodded.

“If anyone calls with information about the Edgar Humphries case, take it down and call me on my cell.”

“You got it, Lucinda,” he said to her back as she strode out of the office.

She turned around. “Ted? Were you in my office for a reason? Were you waiting for me?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But it can keep.”

She went to the elevator, pressed the down button but quickly grew impatient and took the stairs down two floors. She took a right, then a left into the tunnel that ran under Third Street connecting the new Justice Center with the older building housing the jail and the Sheriff’s Office. A flash of her badge and she bypassed security at the underground entrance. In minutes, the deputy was leading her down the cell block and unlocking the door to the narrow room holding Evan Spencer.

“Am I glad to see you. I didn’t think I’d ever convince them to give you a call.”

“Evan, you probably need a lawyer more than you need me.”

“But, Lucinda, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah but they all say that Evan.”

“But . . .” he sputtered.

Lucinda held up a hand. “Save it, Dr. Spencer. Just tell me what happened.”

Evan told her about coming to the woman’s rescue and the indignity of being blamed for hurting her. “I told the officers, I told the deputy. No one believes me.”

“Like I said, Dr. Spencer, everyone says that. They don’t believe anybody. Let me see what I can do to get you out of here.”

“Deputy Turner,” Lucinda shouted down the hall.

Turner pulled away from the wall where he was leaning and let her out of the cell.

“I need to get Spencer out,” she said as they walked back up the hallway.

“Not up to me, Lieutenant. You gotta take that up with the judge.”

“Can you get me in front of him before he adjourns for the day?”

He turned his arm to look at his wristwatch. “I’ll call the clerk and see what I can do.”

In a few minutes, Lucinda and Turner headed back the way they came, this time cuffing and retrieving Evan Spencer. They entered the Justice Center through another tunnel far less wide and welcoming than the public one Lucinda used earlier. They went up to the ground-floor courtroom in a secure elevator.

Turner put Evan in the holding cell next to the courtroom and waited for the bailiff to call his name. When she did, Turner escorted his prisoner before the bench and Lucinda took her place at his side. The deputy recited the charges to the judge and introduced Lucinda.

“What’s a homicide detective doing here on an assault case, Lieutenant?” the judge asked.