False Front (3 page)

‘There is some sort of dirt under the victim’s fingernails,’ Lucinda said.

‘Hmm.’

‘Could she have grabbed there when someone extracted her from the room?’

‘Maybe,’ Marguerite said. ‘I’d have to compare the paint and the debris under her nails.’ She pulled out a camera and added a macro-lens before shooting a close-up of the area in question. She swabbed the damaged area and then collected paint samples. While she worked, Lucinda returned to her examination of the floor.

Marguerite packed away the samples and asked, ‘Anything else?’

‘Yes,’ Lucinda said as she crawled back to the bedpost leg where she found the beads. ‘Take a look at these.’

Marguerite lowered herself to the floor and followed the beam of Lucinda’s flashlight. ‘No way to tell how long they’ve been there.’

‘No, not really,’ Lucinda admitted. ‘They appear to match the other jewelry the victim wore but I won’t know for sure until we collect them. I wanted an in situ shot first.’

‘Not going to be easy,’ Marguerite said. ‘I’ll do my best.’ She slid under the bed with her photographic equipment and took shots from several angles. She then retrieved and bagged the stones.

Lucinda completed her examination of the bedroom floor. ‘I moved slowly and looked very carefully, Spellman. If there is anything else to find in this carpet, it’s going to take someone with more than one eye to find it.’

‘I imagine you would have seen anything that’s there, Lieutenant. But I’ll assign the tech with the youngest and sharpest pair of eyes to repeat the scan just to be sure.’

‘Good. Your team’s all here?’

‘Sure is.’

‘OK. I’ll leave it all up to you, then,’ Lucinda said. ‘I need to get down to the justice center to talk to the husband.’

‘You think he did it?’

‘Don’t know but I sure wouldn’t place a bet on his innocence.’

As Lucinda drove downtown, she hoped she wouldn’t have to cancel her dinner date with Jake that evening but knew she probably would. It happened too often. Either she had an investigation that interrupted their plans or he did. They rarely seemed to catch a demanding case at the same time. They more often came one after another, sometimes making it impossible for them to get together for days or even weeks. But the first hours of any murder investigation mattered too much and at this point, she knew she couldn’t break for a moment until she at least knew whether she was looking at a homicide or a suicide.

She called the morgue and asked for Doc Sam. She was told he was in the middle of an autopsy. She was pleased to learn he was working on her victim – if that’s what she was. An answer to that big question should be forthcoming in no time.

Back at the justice center, she went straight to the basement to check on the doctor’s progress before going upstairs to grill Frank Eagleton. She pulled on a gown and head gear but held her hands behind her back rather than glove-up. She didn’t think she’d be there long.

‘Got anything for me, Doc?’

Doc Sam growled and said, ‘You know I can’t form conclusions until I complete the job and as you can see I’m elbow-deep in it now.’

Lucinda stifled a grin at his literal use of the hackneyed phrase. ‘Yes, sir, Doctor. I know that but I thought you might be willing to share your brilliant observations.’

He glared at her over the tops of his glasses. ‘You need to display more respect for your elders, Pierce.’

‘Sir, you know—’

‘Don’t start, Pierce. I cleaned out under her fingernails and sent the sample upstairs to the lab for the witch that runs the place to examine. She’ll be giving you the official report on that.’

Lucinda grinned at his description of Audrey Ringo, the head of the forensics lab. ‘What did the sample look like?’ Lucinda asked.

‘You know I can’t tell anything just by looking at it.’

‘You didn’t—’

‘Yes, I did. I popped it under the microscope to give it a quick look before sending it to Audrey. It appears to be skin cells, paint chips and threads of some fiber or another. But I can’t swear to any of that because I didn’t test it. As you well know, that’s not my job. This is my job,’ he said, pointing both hands at the body on the stainless steel slab. ‘Now, will you let me get back to it?’

‘Certainly, you old curmudgeon. I’ll send Colter down to observe. I’ve got to talk to the husband.’

‘Curmudgeon, Pierce? Now that was uncalled for . . .’

‘I know, Doc. But sometimes I simply lose control. And “curmudgeon” sorta rolls across the tongue and tickles the palate, doesn’t it?’

‘Get out of here, Pierce.’

Lucinda chuckled while she slipped out of the surgical garments and hopped in the elevator to go to her office. When she walked into the reception area, she heard pounding and a loud voice drifting down the hall. ‘Let me out of here. Where is that damned detective? Why is this door locked? I demand my freedom.’

‘Oh, good grief,’ Lucinda said with a sigh.

Kristen, the department’s petite and, in Lucinda’s estimation, far too perky secretary and receptionist was still new enough to be amused by the behavior of visitors in the interrogation room. She laughed, tilted her head, tossing her shoulder-length brown hair off to one side and said, ‘Yes. We’ve tried to ply him with hospitality. We offered him coffee, soda, water. Sergeant Colter even offered to run out and get him a sandwich if he would only settle down. But he refused it all – obviously preferring to pound and shout than to indulge in food or drink. Seems like it’s time for a lion tamer – got your whip and chair?’

As if in response, Eagleton let out a particularly loud and feral bellow that Lucinda thought she could feel in the soles of her feet. ‘This is ridiculous!’ she spat out as she marched down the hall. She landed a fist on the reinforced glass window. ‘Cut it out!’

He responded with more pounding. ‘I demand . . .’ he shouted.

‘Sit down, Mr Eagleton!’

‘I demand—’

‘No one gives a damn about your demands. Sit your ass down in that chair if you want me to talk to you.’

Eagleton stopped pounding and pulled back his head as if in shock that she’d spoken to him that way. But he didn’t move away from the door.

‘I am serious, Mr Eagleton. Stop this childish display and sit in that chair now or I’ll rustle up a couple beefy cops who will cuff you, shackle you and muscle you down to a holding cell where you can cool your jets for a while.’ Lucinda glared through the window.

A look of defiance crossed Eagleton’s face. Then his shoulders slumped and he turned, crossed the room and sat in the chair. He lifted both hands and raised his shoulders in a shrug.

Lucinda opened the door far enough to stick her head through. ‘Now, you just sit there quietly, like a good boy, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

Eagleton rose from the chair and started to bluster.

‘Sit, Mr Eagleton. Sit.’

His eyes formed slits and his lips curled up as he lowered himself into the chair.

Lucinda sighed and went to her office. She sent an email to the records department requesting any priors on Frank Eagleton and another to Lara Quivey in Research asking for an instant background report on him. She went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. By the time she returned she had a response to her first query, indicating that Eagleton had no record. While she was reading it, the message from Lara arrived in her inbox. She printed it out and read it while she walked back down the hall. As she learned about his background of wealth and privilege, she was surprised that he hadn’t demanded an attorney already and feared he would do just that when she asked her first question.

FOUR

L
ucinda sat down across from Eagleton and tried to hold his gaze, but in less than ten seconds he turned away. ‘I’m not a cat, Lieutenant. I don’t enjoy staring contests.’

Instead of responding, she kept her eyes on his averted face. Finally, he turned back towards her and raised his eyebrows. ‘When did you last see your wife, Mr Eagleton?’

‘This morning, when I went to work.’

‘What time was that?’

‘Seven fifteen, seven thirty.’

‘Was she wearing the same clothing as she was when we arrived at your home?’

‘No, Lieutenant,’ he smirked. ‘She was wearing a towel. I stuck my head into her room and asked her if she planned on being home all day.’

‘And why did you and your wife have separate bedrooms?’

‘It was her decision, Lieutenant. Not mine.’

‘Why the separate rooms, Mr Eagleton?’

‘As I said, it wasn’t my idea.’

‘That didn’t answer my question.’

‘I liked sharing a bed with my wife. She might have been getting older but I still appreciated her body and the comfort of her warm presence next to me at night. I haven’t slept all that well since she moved across the hall.’

‘One more time, Mr Eagleton: why did the two of you not share a bedroom?’

He slapped his hands on the table. ‘Simple, Lieutenant. She was really pissed off.’

Lucinda clenched her jaw. ‘And why was she pissed off, sir?’

Eagleton sighed. ‘Someone told her I was having an affair with my secretary.’

‘Were you?’

‘Was I what?’

‘Don’t be obtuse, Mr Eagleton. Were you having an affair?’

He blew air out of loose lips, making them vibrate against each other. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It didn’t mean anything. It was just recreational. Stress relief. It didn’t mean I didn’t still love my wife.’

‘Did you, Mr Eagleton? Did you still love your wife?’

‘Of course I did. She’s the mother of my children. She helped me build my business. She helped make me a success.’

‘That sounds like gratitude, not love.’

‘You’re not married, are you, Lieutenant?’

‘Please answer the question.’

Eagleton leaned forward with his elbows on the table. ‘Gratitude is one of the building blocks of lasting love, Lieutenant.’

‘Nice philosophy, Mr Eagleton,’ she said as her lips involuntarily formed a sneer. ‘And you demonstrate your gratitude to your wife by climbing into bed with someone else?’

‘That had nothing to do with my wife.’

‘Is that how your lover saw it?’

‘Lieutenant, I did not lie to that girl. I told her from the start that I would never leave my wife. I told her I was just looking for good times and relaxation.’

‘Really? And how did she react to that?’

‘She stood up on the bed, stark naked, her legs spread, straddling my waist and said, ‘Good. Just consider me your new therapist.’

Lucinda looked at the sparkle in Eagleton’s eyes and recoiled from it. His wife’s death didn’t seem to sully the pleasure of his illicit memories one little bit. ‘Back to the last time you saw your wife: what did she say? Was she going to be home all day?’

‘She said, “Maybe.” She said, “A client is meeting me here at the house at nine. If it goes well we may go to lunch after our meeting.”’

‘Did she tell you who that client was? For that matter, what did your wife do for her clients? What kind of service did she provide?’

‘No. I have no idea. She told me nothing. She used to do public relations work but that was ages ago. So I asked her, “Client? What kind of client? You don’t have a job.”’

‘And her answer?’ Lucinda asked.

‘All she said was, “See Frank, you know nothing about me. You hardly know I am alive.” I said, “You never told me you had a job.” And she said, “You never asked. Now will you please leave so I can get dressed?” And that pissed me off.’

‘Why?’

‘We’ve been married all these years,’ he said, his voice rising. ‘I’ve seen her starkers more times than I’ve had a beer. And I have to leave for her to get dressed?’

‘How much did it piss you off, Mr Eagleton?’

‘Enough to make me stalk out without saying “goodbye.”’

‘Is that what you did, Mr Eagleton?’

‘That’s what I said, isn’t it?’

‘No. It isn’t, sir. You said that it made you angry enough to stalk out of the room, not that you did stalk out of the room.’

Eagleton popped to his feet. ‘Now you are playing word games?’

‘I’m not playing any games. I do not think the death of your wife is a game, do you?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Please sit down, Mr Eagleton. And try to control your temper.’

He glared at her and lowered down into the chair.

‘Thank you,’ Lucinda said. ‘Now, did it piss you off enough to make you attack your wife?’

‘What? I’ve never raised a hand to that woman.’

‘Did you fake her suicide to cover up your crime?’

Eagleton shot to his feet again. Veins pounded in his forehead and neck. His face flushed red. ‘What’s wrong with you? I’m the one who told you it was not a suicide. Remember?’

‘Clever ruse, don’t you think?’

Eagleton stepped up to the side of the table, his hands clenched by his sides. ‘How dare you?’

‘Mr Eagleton, don’t make me restrain you. Get back on your side of the table and sit down.’

He sucked a deep breath in through his nose, making his chest heave. A look of distaste curled his lips. ‘You sicken me,’ he said as he took a step back. ‘I’ve told you I loved my wife,’ he said as he slid back into his seat.

‘You also told me you were having a cheap affair with one of your employees. I can’t quite fit those two concepts into one bucket.’

‘I never said “cheap.”’

‘So you were in love with this girl?’

‘No. It was sex – just sex.’

‘You know we will have to speak with her?’

Eagleton rolled his eyes. ‘Yes. Not the happiest realization I’ve had today.’

‘What was that?’

‘What was what?’ Eagleton asked.

‘Your happiest realization this morning. What was that? Learning you’re now a widower?’

‘Goddammit!’ he said, slapping his hand on the table. ‘I’m talking to you for one reason and one reason only. My wife did not commit suicide. She wouldn’t. That means someone killed her. I want that bastard locked up.’

‘Did your wife have any enemies?’

‘Only perceived ones.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Sometimes she acted like I was the enemy but that was nothing new. From time to time, she’d get all paranoid that I was plotting to leave her. She’d get the children to question me. But I knew she couldn’t help herself. She had a pathological poor sense of self-worth. Then, when she got that note telling her about the girl a year and a half ago, she focused her paranoia on her. She saw the girl as her enemy. But she wasn’t. She had no plans to take her place. She was just – just – just . . .’