The Trophy Exchange (11 page)

Lucinda placed her hand on the distraught woman
’
s back and waited for her to regain her self-control. When Frances sat back up, Lucinda asked,
“
Who was the message from,
Ms.
Wagner?
”

“
That woman he married. My daughter-in-law Julie,
”
she spat out.

Before Lucinda could ask another question, squealing tires drew both women
’
s attention to outside the car. A green Monte Carlo swerved into the side street. It zigzagged from one side of the street to the other as if being steered by a trained chimp instead of a licensed driver. It jerked to a stop beside the house with two wheels up on the sidewalk and the front end kissing the post that held the stop sign.

The door flew open and a middle-aged woman in a black T-shirt and blue jeans jumped out onto the sidewalk. Her long brown hair was clasped in a clip at the back of her neck and swayed back and forth as she ran for the front gate.

Frances reached for the door handle.
“
What is that damn bitch doing here?
”

Lucinda laid a restraining hand on Frances
’
left arm.
“
Please stay in the car,
Ms.
Wagner. You know who that is?
”

“
Julie
’
s mother. Vivienne the tramp.
”

The maligned Vivienne, meanwhile, reached the patrolman blocking passage into the yard. She attempted to brush past him and cried in outrage when she was stopped.

Lucinda got out of the car, then leaned down and stuck her head back in.
“Ms.
Wagner, stay right here. I
’
ll be back in a minute.
”

Vivienne slapped an envelope over and over into the officer
’
s chest.
“
You
’
ve got to let me in. I
’
ve got to see the person in charge. I
’
ve got evidence.
”

“
I
’
m the investigator in charge,
”
Lucinda said.

Vivienne spun around.
“
Good. That guy deserved to die. I
’
ve got the proof right here.
”

All eyes were on Vivienne after that statement. Neither Lucinda nor the patrolman noticed Frances ease open the door and get out of the car. They didn
’
t hear her stealthy approach. When they saw her, she was in mid-flight after launching into a flying tackle aimed at Vivienne
’
s body. Both women slammed into the ground. Frances straddled Vivienne not caring that her position forced her skirt high up onto her hips revealing a lack of underwear beneath her pantyhose. Frances grabbed a hank of her hair in each hand and pounded Vivienne
’
s head into the ground.
“
You lying bitch,
”
she screamed.

The patrolman plucked Frances off Vivienne. Frances squirmed in his arms with strands of Vivienne
’
s hair still clutched in her hands. Lucinda helped Vivienne to her feet. As soon as Vivienne was standing, Frances lunged at her again but the patrolman held her tight.

“
Cuff her,
”
Lucinda ordered,
“
and stick her in the back of your car until she calms down.
”

The officer complied with a grin. Lucinda escorted Vivienne to her car. Once they were both inside, Lucinda said,
“
You
’
re the mother-in-law of the deceased – correct?
”

“
Unfortunately, yes, I am. I don
’
t know how my daughter was stupid enough to marry that sorry son of a bitch.
”

Lucinda
’
s eyebrows raised as her internal radar noted that she used the same words as those written on the note beside the body.
“
Your full name, please.
”

“
Vivienne Carr.
”

“
You said you had evidence?
”

“
Yeah,
”
she said, handing an envelope to Lucinda.
“
Not evidence of the murder but evidence of what he did to deserve it.
”

Lucinda slid the pack of photographs out of the envelope and flipped through an array of shots displaying blackened eyes, busted lips, bruised arms, taped ribs.
“
Are these
all shots of your daughter, Ms.
Carr?
”

“Yes,
y
es they are. That sorry son of a bitch used her for a punching bag. I told her she needed to leave him before he killed her. But she kept telling me that he
’
d kill her if she left.
”

“
Did your daughter call you and ask you to come over here?
”

“
No. That crazy woman called me up and told me my daughter killed her boy. I told her it was about time.
”

“Ms.
Carr, do you think your daughter killed Terry Wagner?
”

“
I
’
m not saying that. I don
’
t know. I
’
m just saying if she did, it was self-defense. He deserved to die.
”

“Ms.
Carr, where is your daughter now?
”

“
I don
’
t know.
”

Lucinda stared at her without saying a word.

“
Honest to God. I don
’
t know where she
’
s at. I wish I did. She must be scared to death.
”

Lucinda pressured Vivienne about her daughter
’
s whereabouts for a little longer without getting anywhere. She did get Vivienne
’
s solemn commitment to stay away from Frances and not to contact her by phone, email or snail mail. Lucinda then went to the patrol car and got the same promises from Frances before sending both women on their way.

Twelve

When Lucinda got back to the station, she issued an all points bulletin on Julie Wagner. With that chore out of the way, she set the Wagner case aside and moved her attention back to the more puzzling Spencer murder. She worked her way through the stack until the print blurred in front of her. Then, she stopped for the day and headed home.

She pushed open her apartment door and received a warm welcome from Chester. The thought of food animated him to an extreme, and at this moment, it was obvious that tuna was on his mind. He wove between Lucinda
’
s legs at manic speed
,
threatening to trip her up as she walked through the small foyer. The fear of falling over him or stepping on his tail had diminished with time and therapy but it was still a problem. She scooped him up to avert disaster and headed into her small galley kitchen.

After feeding Chester, she got busy slapping together her own sustenance. She laid a slice of muenster
cheese
on a piece of bread and slid it into the toaster oven. While the cheese melted, she pulled out a container of sliced turkey and poured a glass of white
M
erlot. She slapped a couple of slices of the meat on top of the cheese, folded the bread in half and took a bite before heading into the living room.

She plopped into the recliner, raised the leg rest, picked up the remote and clicked on Nancy Grace. Nancy
’
s hour of emotion-laden, judgment-filled crime reporting usually eased her stress and took her mind away from the nagging worries of her caseload. Tonight, however, her thoughts about Kathleen Spencer
’
s murder kept churning in her head. She was oblivious to both the audio and video until she heard the word
“
ring
”
.

“
That
’
s right, Nancy. The police don
’
t care at all about who murdered my daughter. They just want to know how she got that ring. We keep telling them it isn
’
t her ring.
”

“
Tell us about that ring,
”
Nancy said.
“
What does it look like?
”

“
Well, it
’
s a big flashy thing
–
expensive one, too, if that diamond is the real thing.
”

“
The police say it is,
Ms.
Haver. Didn
’
t it have rubies on it, too?
”

“
Yes. A little ruby heart on each side. But it wasn
’
t my daughter
’
s ring. I don
’
t know how it got on her hand.
”

Lucinda pushed down the leg rest and leaned forward in her chair.

“
Thank you,
Ms.
Haver, for coming on the show tonight and telling us about your girl. Ladies and gentlemen, if you know anything about this ring or about the murder of
Ms.
Haver
’
s
twenty-eight
-year-old daughter, Kristy, please call the Riverton Police Department. Ellie, have you got that number up? There it is. If you know anything, give them a call. Please help
Ms.
Haver solve the mystery of her girl.
”

Nancy Grace then cut to a commercial break. Too late, Lucinda realized she should have jotted down the police department phone number. She grabbed a paper and pen hoping it would flash
up
on the screen again. She sat rigid on the edge of the chair waiting for Nancy
’
s return
,
waiting for more information. She wanted to know names, places, anything, everything. But when the show resumed, Nancy was off on another case.

Lucinda raced to her computer and pulled up Nancy Grace
’
s page. She found nothing there about the ring. She clicked the link to email Nancy and pounded out a plea for more information. She
’d
barely hit
“
send
”
before a message popped up in her in
-
box
,
one of those automated ones telling Lucinda that because of the volume of email, Nancy was unable to respond to each person individually but appreciated the email just the same.

“
Damn,
”
Lucinda muttered. She got phone numbers off the
I
nternet for CNN and Court TV. Dialing those numbers only got her to recordings stating the company
’
s business hours. She knew, though, that Nancy
’
s shows had dedicated lines and she always had an open door for law enforcement. She just needed that number.

She called Ted. When he answered, she didn
’
t waste time with a greeting.
“
I need to get hold of the producers of Nancy Grace
’
s show at Headline News or Court TV.
”

“
I don
’
t have them, Lucinda. What
’
s up?
”

“
Someone in the department has to have them.
”

“
Sure, the media relations department does. But they
’
re all gone for the day and they
’
re not about to tear in there to look them up for you. It
’
ll have to keep till tomorrow.
”

“
Damn.
”

“
What is it, Lucinda?
”

“
Ted, I think I just found Kathleen Spencer
’
s ring.
”

“
Nancy Grace was wearing it?
”

“
Funny, Ted. I
’
m serious. I think her ring was found on the finger of another murdered woman.
”

“
Where?
”

“
Don
’
t know. River-something. I just caught the tail
end of the story.
”

Lucinda filled Ted in on the details. When they hung up, both wished they could sleep the hours away until the media relations office re-opened in the morning. But both knew they were destined
for
a night of chasing oblivion but never catching up with it. If Lucinda was right, Kathleen Spencer
’
s murder wasn
’
t a case of robbery gone bad or a marriage turned rotten
–
it entered into a dimension where investigators fear to tread.