The Trophy Exchange (36 page)

Forty-Three

On the ride home, Lucinda tried to convince herself that her instincts were off
,
that she
’d
misread Evan Spencer from the beginning. She mentally reviewed all of her interactions with him since the first time they met. She couldn
’
t shake it.
Evan Spencer was – and still is – hiding something from me. But what?

When she opened her apartment door and flipped on the light, Chester raced to her feet making high
-
pitched meows she
’
d never heard from him before. He rubbed his face on her leg and collapsed belly up. He wriggled his back, moving a yard across the floor. He sprang to his feet and raced down the hall with bizarre little chirps issuing from his throat.

She listened but heard no sound for long enough to develop concern about what he was doing. Then, the pounding of his four feet raced back down the hall. Chester flopped on his back again and rubbed the side of his face on the floor right next to the explanation for his behavior. His catnip-filled mouse lay in tatters on the living
-
room rug. He rolled in the pile of dried leaves and threw Lucinda an endearing glance, then bounced to his feet again.

“
No wonder you
’
ve lost all your dignity, Chester, you
’
re stoned.
”
He wove in and out of her legs as she opened a can of food and put two spoonfuls in his bowl. He attacked it making happy little snarls as he chewed.

“
If a roll in the catnip did that for me, Chester, I
’
d be rolling on the floor with you right now.
”

She pulled a chicken pot pie out of the freezer, opened the container and punched a couple of holes into the crust with a fork. She set the oven temperature, plopped it on a cookie sheet and slid the sheet inside the oven. After setting the timer on
the
stove, she stretched out on the sofa in the living room to think.

There are two options, she thought.
Either Evan Spencer is responsible for his wife’s murder or not. He was out of the country when his wife died: not responsible. He could have hired someone to kill his wife at the time when he had an ironclad alibi: responsible. I’m chasing my tail and getting nowhere with that one. What about the other homicides?

She knew Spencer had only vague, not very convincing, alibis for all the other murders prior to Kathleen
’
s death. The same went for all the homicides since then, except for the attempt earlier today. She had an eyewitness who placed Spencer at the scene of the triple homicide but then again, she had another eyewitness, who she knew was wrong, placing him at this most recent attack.
Just because one eyewitness was mistaken that doesn’t automatically mean the other one is, too, does it? No. What points to the same perp in the triple homicide and the attack tonight?

She formed the list in her head starting with the rope. She knew that was a common ligature item and therefore possibly irrelevant.

The skillet? She realized that was unique. But the victim introduced the skillet to the scene tonight
–
not the perp. Maybe they are not connected But if Evan Spencer is not involved in any of these murders then what is he hiding from me and why is he hiding it?

Chester, his catnip-high now mellowed by his tuna-filled tummy, chose that moment to land on Lucinda
’
s stomach and press one paw after another into her chest in a kneading motion. All the while a deep rumbling purr as loud as an old dishwasher vibrated his body from head to toe.

“
Chester,
”
she said,
“
you have a devious mind. Why don
’
t you help me out here? What do you think is going on in Dr Spencer
’
s head now, hmmm? Just give me a little hint.
”
Chester stared at her with glazed eyes
–
his purr at full throttle.

Epiphany struck and Lucinda bolted upright, catapulting Chester to the floor. He gave her a squinted look of displeasure then jumped up behind her back to claim the warm spot on the sofa she had just vacated.

Lucinda grabbed her phone and stabbed in Ted
’
s cellphone number.
“
What if Spencer had a partner in crime?
”

“
Well, hello, Lucinda. How are you this evening?
”

“
Yeah. Yeah. A p
artner, Ted. What about a partner?
”

“
It
’
s rare for serial killers
.”

“
Rare, but not unheard of.
”

“
It
’
s happened but
―”

“
What if the partner freelanced Kathleen
’
s murder?
”

“
On his own? Not prompted by Spencer?
”

“
Yeah, remember our first interview with Spencer
? Remember his anger over the turquoise cross?
”

“
Yes. But what does that have to do with
―”

“
He seemed personally affronted by it, didn
’
t he?
”

“
He did, Lucinda, but grieving family members are
―”

“
And what if tonight
’
s attack was another freelance job?
”

“
Tha
t would explain why the perp botched it after perfectly executing the others.
”

“
What if it was intentional to draw suspicion from Spencer?
” Lucinda suggested.

“
What about the positive identification of Spencer by the victim?
”

“
Damn!
”
Lucinda exhaled as her excitement deflated like a failed soufflé.

“
What do you think we have then? The good doctor and his evil twin on a murder spree?
”
Ted asked.

Lucinda shook her head.

“
You
’
ve run a long line of a lot of what ifs here, Lucinda, only you missed one.
”

“
What
’
s that?
”

“
What if Evan Spencer is innocent?
”
Ted asked.

“
But if he is, what is he hiding from me and why?
”

“
I don
’
t know, Lucinda. But it
’
s possible it has nothing to do with Kathleen
’
s death or with the other murders.
”

“
Rita?
”

“
Maybe. But even if he
’
s having an affair, it could be nothing more than a coincidence.
”

“
I don
’
t believe in coincidence, Ted.
”

“
I
’
m skeptical of them, too, but sometimes they really do happen.
”

Lucinda sighed in response.

“
Hey, it
’
s getting late, but I
’
ll see ya in the morning and we can chew this over some more.
”

“
Yeah. The morning,
”
Lucinda said and disconnected the call. That night, she tossed and turned for hours
,
question after question running through her mind in pursuit of answers that were playing hard to get.

Forty-Four

He followed her car from the police station to her apartment. He saw no indication that she knew he was there. When she pulled into the garage, he
drove
beyond the building and parked. He hurried around to the side of the
apartment block
that faced the water.

He stood by the riverbank and scanned the side of the building. Lamps or the blue glow of television sets lit up most of the windows
,
but black holes
indicating the unoccupied apartments
scattered like vacant eyes across the expanse. One of them turned bright as he watched. One, two, three, four, five, sixth floor. It was the tenth window from the end
,
but without knowing the building
’
s layout he couldn
’
t
guess
which apartment was hers. I
’
ll find out in the morning, he thought and headed up the bank to his parked car on the side of the road.

He returned before dawn and took the elevator to the sixth floor. He walked the length of the hall to the end then, with measured steps, walked off the distance he
’d
estimated from the outside of the building the night before. He stopped in front of the door to apartment 6D. He knew that had to be where she lived. He sighed as he saw the deadbolt. He wouldn
’
t be able to break in with the ease and speed necessary to avoid being observed. But he had time to figure that out. He had to wait until she left for work.

He took the elevator down to the parking garage and hid in the shadows where he had a clear view of Lucinda
’
s car. He pondered how he could get inside her apartment and discarded the possibility of entering through a window just as he
’
d already eliminated the door. He
’
d have to con the manager. But how? He knew he couldn
’
t count on him being stupid because the first approach to the manager had to work. And what if the manager is a woman? What difference would that make?

Lost in thought, he started at the sound of foot
steps
walking in his direction. He ducked back between the front of a car and the wall. He peered under the car and saw a woman
’
s feet. They stopped at Lucinda
’
s car. The tiny beep that signaled the unlocking of the doors echoed in the underground garage.

He smiled as she drove away. He could leave now, find a cup of coffee and make a plan.