Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (75 page)

“Why? It had nothing to do with the now closed Wade case.”

“I—okay—I guess I deserve that.”

She put a dab of antiseptic on a Band-Aid and pressed it to his head a little harder than necessary. He winced.

“That doesn’t answer my question. Why are you here…tonight?”

“I believe you,” he said. “I checked out a few things. What I found turned things around. For instance, the nurse, Judith Avidon, has a son. It’s possible that son is the phony handyman and the man that attacked you tonight.”

Avidon had a son. That shocked her.

“If that’s true, then we have them.”

“When was the last time you saw Sybil Squire?” he asked.

“The real Sybil?”

“Real or otherwise.”

“Yesterday. In an upstairs room that isn’t her bedroom. Just before that, I tried to talk to the Sybil imposter before her accomplice drove her away in the Lincoln.”

“Imposter?”

Piper told him about her theory. “That’s how they’ve managed to fool everyone for so long. With this woman posing as Sybil to the authorities and denying that there’s anything wrong, time is on their side. If we wait too long, they may kill Sybil.”

“If they feel threatened they might kill her now and run. I suspect there’s something they want from her that she’s not giving them.”

Yes. That made sense. And it had something to do with the bank. “Vera told me that the same day the stranger came to the Squire house, Sybil made Vera take her to the bank. She had a large valise, which she took with her to a second bank. It’s my guess she cleaned out her account and safe-deposit box and transferred the contents to another one.”

He nodded. “They want the safe-deposit key and she’s not cooperating.”

“When you were struggling with the man on the deck, did you see his face?”

He shook his head. “It all happened so fast. He wore a bandana on his head—like the man in the video clip you sent me.”

“I have pictures of Luke.” She glanced at the end of the counter where she’d left the envelope. It was gone. “He took them. But I’ve got the digital shots on the PC.”

Piper uploaded the picture album on the computer. She scanned through it twice. “They’re gone. He deleted them.”

He stood and looked around. “Anything else missing?”

She crossed the room to the camcorder. It was empty. “The shots I’ve taken from the past weeks of the house next door. Gone.” She sank down on the ottoman.

He went to the kitchen sink and dampened a paper towel. He picked up the antiseptic and Band-Aids, crossed the room and kneeled in front of her. When he touched her leg at the hemline of her skirt, she looked up at him.

“It’s your turn.”

Her right knee was skinned from where she’d been knocked to the deck. He gently dabbed at the scraped skin, then applied antiseptic to the Band-Aid and covered the abrasion. He was gentle but efficient, as if he’d done this many times before.

He smelled good. A knock on the door startled her.

“That’s LAPD,” Detective Bower said rising. “Let me handle this, okay?”

“Gladly.”

Detective Bower let the two uniform police officers inside and explained the situation to them. He described the break-in and the assault to her, and his scuffle with the intruder. After thoroughly canvassing the grounds of the Vogt estate, the two officers returned to the guesthouse and took a statement from her and the detective.

Detective Bower said, “Mrs. Lundberg and I have reason to believe the residents next door may be harboring a fugitive—the man that attacked her tonight. The owner of the house is a friend of Mrs. Lundberg and an innocent party to any of this. I know that legally you can’t do anything without a warrant, but the owner of the home may let us in to interview her and her caregivers.”

#

Officer Lovett knocked on the front door of the Squire residence. The door cracked open. Mr. Moto’s face peered out, his expression one of bafflement when he saw the two officers, Piper and Jason.

The officer informed Mr. Moto that there had been a crime committed at the Vogt residence. “Would it be possible to speak with the lady of the house, Mrs. Squire?”

Piper looked directly into his eyes through his round glasses, and though his expression was grave, smug amusement shone in his eyes like happy on a clown. He bowed his head and stepped back, allowing them to enter. He showed them to the living room and left the room.

Piper held her breath. It seemed too damn smooth, too easy.

The first thing she noticed was the bare shelves where the dozens of Q. Letec figurines had once stood.

Minutes passed, minutes that felt like an eternity. Piper shifted from one foot to another. No one spoke.

A soft voice broke the silence. “Is there a problem?”

Piper whirled around to see a platinum-haired woman coming into the room. Her steps slow but sure as she walked to the wingback chair, with Mr. Moto at her side, she lowered herself into the chair. The woman’s hair was perfectly coiffed. She wore an expensive dressing gown. On her feet were ballet-type slippers. Lacy gloves covered her hands and reached to well above her wrists. It was remarkable how much she resembled Sybil, especially the hair and eyes. In this town, she could be wearing a wig and contact lenses, even a latex mask, designed by a special effects film artist.

The birdcage next to the chair was empty.

“Excuse my informal attire,” the woman said to no one in particular, looking around the room. “I was in bed.” She turned to Piper. “Mrs. Lundberg, why are you doing this to me?”

“You’re not Sybil Squire.” Piper turned to the two officers. “She’s not Sybil Squire.”

“How well do you know Mrs. Squire?” Officer Lovett asked Piper.

“Well enough.”

“I’ve had her to the house one time. The visit was short.”

“Twice. I’ve been here twice. Sybil would know that.”

“I didn’t invite you the second time,” she said.

“If she’s not Mrs. Squire, who is she?” the other policeman asked her.

“I don’t know. That man,” Piper said, pointing to Mr. Moto, “is Sybil’s caregiver. He and a nurse named Judith Avidon moved in about a month ago. There are more of them. At least one other man. I strongly believe they’re financially exploiting their patient. Not to mention physical abuse.”

“What proof do you have?”

“Well, for starters, ask her what happened to the figurines that used to be on these shelves, figurines worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

“I sold them. I never liked them. They belonged to one of my late husbands. After the last earthquake, several were damaged, so I decided to sell them to someone who loved them as much as Alec loved them. Officers, I’m liquidating my assets and moving east and possibly abroad.” She turned to Piper again. “Is that all right with you, dear? Or do I need your permission?”

“What happened to the canaries?”

“I’m afraid they’re gone.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “One became sick and then all were sick. They died. That’s the main reason I’m leaving. There’s nothing to hold me here now.”

“Where is Judith Avidon?” Piper asked.

“On the east coast. She’s setting up things for me there. Preparing us for the move.”

“She’s lying. If you fingerprinted this woman and compared the prints to Sybil’s, you’d see she’s not who she says she is.”

“Fingerprints to compare with what, Mrs. Lundberg? I’ve never been fingerprinted.”

Piper refused to look at the imposter, directing her questions to the taller cop, Lovett, the one who seemed to be running the show. “What about DNA? Find something of Sybil’s and run a DNA test.”

“If it will make you happy, then take whatever is needed. My toothbrush, hairbrush, I have nothing to hide.”

“If you have nothing to hide, let these policemen search through the house.”

“Looking for what?”

“For the man who attacked me tonight and the real Sybil Squire.”

She smiled. “If I allowed that then I’d be encouraging your paranoia, Mrs. Lundberg. The answer is no.”

Piper realized then that they had thought of everything. All that belonged to Sybil, anything personal, would have been right here in this house. In the past forty years, Sybil had rarely left her home. Anything that might contain her DNA had long ago been substituted with that of the imposter. No wait, there was the autograph she gave Piper the last time she visited her. It would have her fingerprints on it. Or skin cells for DNA analysis.

“I have something of Sybil’s. An autographed photo.”

“Would you like a handwriting sample?” the woman said.

“She’s wearing a wig and contact lenses.”

With her gloved fingers, the woman tugged at her hair above her forehead. “It’s mine. All mine,” she said. “See for yourself.”

Both officers leaned in and nodded.

The woman turned to Officer Lovett. “Mrs. Lundberg, sadly, is stalking me. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I may be forced to press charges against her. A restraining order, at the very least.”

Piper’s stomach dropped. She was turning everything around on her. Piper was the guilty party now. “I can prove this is not Sybil Squire. Sybil has scars on the backs of her hands. Ask this woman to remove her gloves.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” the imposter said.

“Please,” Piper said, pleading with the two police officers. “She can’t make scars go away.”

“Mrs. Squire?” Detective Bower spoke up for the first time since entering the house.

The woman looked from the detective, to Piper, to Mr. Moto and back to Piper again. Her brow furrowed and her cheeks seemed to redden. They had her now. She can’t get away with this. Scars are forever.

“Do you need help?” Piper said, stepping forward. The short cop put an arm out to block her.

“Mrs. Squire, it’s a reasonable request,” Detective Bower spoke again. “If you will, please.”

The woman looked down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. She sighed deeply, then began by tugging at the fingertips, inching the material down slowly. Piper wanted to grab her hand and yank them off, exposing her for the imposter she was. With her palm facing upward, the glove slid down and fell into her lap. She turned her hand over. The scars were red and angry. The other glove came off more quickly. The scars on that hand were not as severe, but without a doubt, they too were burn scars. Even her fingertips were scarred. Glittering on the ring finger of the left hand was the beautiful diamond ring belonging to the real Sybil Squire.

Piper felt numb inside. To what lengths would these people go to pull this off? How much money could there possibly be? Millions?

It was all slipping away. Piper’s chance to save Sybil, gone. Unless Detective Bower believed her and was willing to help, there was nothing more she could do.

#

They returned to the guesthouse. Before driving off in the squad car, Officer Lovett had reminded her that the stalker laws in California were taken very seriously, especially where a celebrity was involved.

Piper sat on a tall stool at the kitchen counter. “So it must be the contents of the safe-deposit box and the missing key that’s keeping them around this long.”

“Keeping Sybil alive, you mean.”

“
Is
she still alive?” she asked.

“As far as Lieutenant Stroller at the FCD is concerned, Sybil Squire is picking up roots and moving east. I’d say by now they’ve managed to clean out her bank account and sell off most of her assets. Instead of trying to sell the house, which would take too long, they could simply mortgage it to the hilt. My first assumption was that one of the caregivers had gotten a power of attorney, but now I realize they don’t need one, not if they can become Sybil.” He paced the room. “I wonder if, after tonight, they’ll think the contents of the safe-deposit box still worth risking their necks for.”

“Risking their necks?” Piper’s laugh was dry and humorless. “Oh, the last thing they’re worried about is their necks. They have no fear. You saw them tonight. Mr. Moto looking so frigging innocent and cooperative. And the phony lady Squire, she … she’s so damn good at convincing not only the Hollywood police, and the FCD, but even Sybil’s doctor. She
burned
her own hands.” When Piper saw the burns on that imposter’s hands, she actually doubted herself. “If we could just find Sybil,” she said. “We have to find her. Only she can expose them.”

“If Mrs. Squire turns up alive, she’d have to prove she’s the real McCoy. Can she? You said it yourself, these people are determined, they’ve thought of everything. As of right now, they have the upper hand, and they know it.”

“Maybe … for now.” Then it hit her. “Blood,” she said, her voice rising. “The private hospital where she went for her burns must have a sample of her blood. There’s our DNA.”

“It’s a possibility, but only if they slipped up. Don’t forget that the nurse took care of her in that hospital too. She had access to all the files and what went into them. She could have easily substituted blood samples, X-rays, tests, whatever, or even destroyed them.”

Piper slumped down on the stool. “How will Sybil get her life back? That she might have to prove who she is never occurred to me. They’ve covered all the bases. Rescuing Sybil may not be enough, especially if she’s given up and no longer wants to live.”

“Mrs. Lundberg—”

“Could you call me Piper? I never did like that name.”

He nodded. “Piper it is. I’ll see if I can get the Wade case reopened. At least that’ll open some doors for us, investigation-wise.”

“Thank you, Detective Bower.”

“Jason.”

She looked up at him.

“Less formal. I may be working this case off the clock, Piper. With the backlog of homicides in all of L.A. County, I won’t be able to devote a lot of time to it on the clock, unless I get more evidence. Something substantial.”

“I understand.” She paused. “Jason, I can’t tell you how much it means to have someone believe me.”

“Sorry it took me so long. I promised you I’d do a thorough investigation and I dropped the ball.” Jason stepped to the door. He opened and closed it several times. “This door was jimmied. Is there a security alarm?”

She shook her head.

“Do you have somewhere else you can stay tonight? The main house?”